"Ardath Mayhar - Hunters of the Plains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mayhar Ardath)

That narrowed eye of light seemed to blink slowly, as if freeing itself of cloud. The golden glow
grew brighter, pushing against the encroaching darkness in the north. As he watched, Do-na-ti
felt the first stirrings of triumph in his heart.

He woke, sitting upright between Ka-shi and his young sister. Rubbing his eyes, he crept among the
sleeping people to the door flap, which was left wide open to let in the air, though the opening was
guarded by the huddle of dogs.

He stepped over their shaggy mass and moved outside. To the west, the moon rode low, clear and
steady and without that cloudy veil. To the north, he found when he moved around the lodge, there was a
distant, dying flicker of lightning and the dim echo of thunder.

There was no sign of the herd in the low-angled moonlight. Was it possible that he, Do-na-ti of the
Badger Clan, had dreamed away the storm and prevented the movement of the herd? It seemed strange,
impossible, but he had a feeling inside him that this was exactly what had happened.

Even as he waited, the last trace of that distant storm died away, and the night grew still. Even the west
wind had calmed, for the moment, as he returned to the lodge and lay again between the children.

Tomorrow he would certainly play the dog!

No other dream came to him as the night wore away toward morning, and the day of the Great Hunt
began.

CHAPTER FIVE



The rank smell of the woolly herd filled the hot day and was carried down the wind as the animals
grazed and moved, grazed and moved. The bulls, alert for any danger, lifted their heads from time
to time, checking for stray calves or approaching wolves.

Though only the very young and the sick usually fell to the dire wolf, instinct ruled the great
beasts. The circle of bulls kept watch over the terrain when the herd was on the move. As the
grasses had been depleted in their present location, and the threat of bad weather drove them,
they were making their ponderous way southward again, where their dim memories told them
they would find fresh growth.

They came to a tremendous complex of prairie dog mounds, and the herd scattered, all of them
taking the opportunity to roll in the loose dirt, scratching their hides pleasurably. A cow, finished
with her efforts, rose awkwardly and headed toward a patch of green refreshed by the recent
rains. Her calf, calling gruffly, trotted after her and chomped at the grass.

Others, seeing the bent necks as the escapees grazed, came to join them. Soon a considerable
number of the bison ranged over this new area, greedily gulping quantities of grass, later to be
regurgitated and chewed at leisure. As the sun rose higher and the heat shimmered over the wide
sweep of land, some lay down to rest, while calves bucked and ran about them.

When the wolf-dog ambled into view, the nearest bull turned to look it over carefully, though its
dim eyes were less than efficient. Still, it smelled like dog, though there was something else, alien