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

Now the two of them were competent adults, fully able to form a family and begin their work of securing
the continuation of their tribe. As he sped through the tall grass, Do-na-ti was thinking of the time to
come, their future as a family, the children they might have to delight their parents, the work they both
would do that would help the People to remain secure and well fed.

He dogtrotted through the grass, keeping an alert ear tuned to the sounds about him. Insects zipped away
before his feet, chirred and creaked about him. From time to time a bird shot up, scolding, from a nest
past which he ran, and rabbits fled frequently from the quiet sound of his skin-shod feet.

Those were familiar sounds, which his mind noted and dismissed without conscious thought. If the bear
had been moving, he would have heard it long before he slipped through a thick growth of sunflowers
and found himself face-to-face with the long-legged beast.

Do-na-ti's heart seemed to pause before starting to race frantically. He froze for a moment, hoping the
shortsighted animal would fail to notice him. But the short-faced bear, huge and supremely fast, was a
predator to rival even man. Its keen nose caught the scent of prey before its eyes picked up the stocky
shape of the youngster.

Instantly the boy darted aside, crashing through the tough, head-high flower stalks and then breaking
through the thicket into the less resistant but still difficult terrain covered with knee-high grass and
sagebrush, which disguised ridges and runnels that could mean a broken leg if one did not keep a close
eye on his footing.

He was a strong runner. Indeed, all of his people were runners, for that was necessary for survival on the
plains and in the edges of the mountains to the west. As toddlers, they began racing each other, and by
the time they reached Do-na-ti's age they could hold their own with almost any pursuer.

The short-faced bear, however, was built for running, its long legs capable of covering ground with
incredible speed. The big strong body was also able to continue the chase when other predators might
have flagged, and to run down exhausted prey at last.

This was foremost in Do-na-ti's thoughts as he fled through the grass, heading toward an arroyo worn by
the sudden desert floods and the seasonal migrations of the long-horned bison. Those gigantic beasts
were moving through the country on their way to summer grazing grounds; if some of their number were
already in the arroyo, it would be the end of Do-na-ti, he knew.

Yet the bear was immediate and dangerous beyond any possibility that might wait in that deep and
crooked crease leading toward the small river. If it caught him, he would end as the bear's meal.

The badger, flopping around the shaft of his spear, was a nuisance, but the boy did not drop it. He had
waited long and stalked carefully to kill the wary beast. It would prove him a man, even if his people
found his remains where the bear or the bison left them. They would know, even in their grief, that he had
become a man before he died.

He leapt surely from the edge of the ravine and landed, knees bent, at the bottom, twice his own height
beneath the level of the prairie above. He could hear the oncoming growl of the bear, the pad of its paws
as it came to the edge and stared down at him.

Do-na-ti did not wait. He turned toward the deeper reaches of the ravine and ran for his life, leaping over
rocks and twisting around abrupt bends. Now he listened for any sound coming from ahead. He had no