"Эрнест Хемингуэй. Big two-hearted river" - читать интересную книгу автора

Nick woke stiff and cramped. The sun was nearly down. His pack was
heavy and the straps painful as he lifted it on. He leaned over with the
pack on and picked up the leather rod-case and started out from the pine
trees across the sweet fern swale, toward the river. He knew it could not be
more than a mile.
He came down a hillside covered with stumps into a meadow. At the edge
of the meadow flowed the river. Nick was glad to get to the river. He walked
upstream through the meadow. His trousers were soaked with the dew as he
walked. After the hot day, the dew had come quickly and heavily. The river
made no sound. It was too fast and smooth. At the edge of the meadow, before
he mounted to a piece of high ground to make camp. Nick looked down the
river at the trout rising. They were rising to insects come from the swamp
on the other side of the stream when the sun went down. The trout jumped out
of water to take them. While Nick walked through the little stretch of
meadow alongside the stream, trout had jumped high out of water. Now as he
looked down the river, the insects must be settling on the surface, for the
trout were feeding steadily all down the stream. As far down the long
stretch as he could see, the trout were rising, making circles all down the
surface of the water, as though it were starting to rain.
The ground rose, wooded and sandy, to overlook the meadow, the stretch
of river and the swamp. Nick dropped his pack and rod-case and looked for a
level piece of ground. He was very hungry and he wanted to make his camp
before he cooked. Between two jack pines, the ground was quite level. He
took the ax out of the pack and chopped out two projecting roots. That
leveled a piece of ground large enough to sleep on. He smoothed out the
sandy soil with his hand and pulled all the sweet fern bushes by their
roots. His hands smelled good from the sweet fern. He smoothed the uprooted
earth. He did not want anything making lumps under the blankets. When he had
the ground smooth, he spread his three blankets. One he folded double, next
to the ground. The other two he spread on top.
With the ax he slit off a bright slab of pine from one of the stumps
and split it into pegs for the tent. He wanted them long and solid to hold
in the ground. With the tent unpacked and spread on the ground, the pack,
leaning against a jackpine, looked much smaller. Nick tied the rope that
served the tent for a ridge-pole to the trunk of one of the pine trees and
pulled the tent up off the ground with the other end of the rope and tied it
to the other pine. The tent hung on the rope like a canvas blanket on a
clothesline. Nick poked a pole he had cut up under the back peak of the
canvas and then made it a tent by pegging out the sides. He pegged the sides
out taut and drove the pegs deep, hitting them down into the ground with the
flat of the ax until the rope loops were buried and the canvas was drum
tight.
Across the open mouth of the tent Nick fixed cheesecloth to keep out
mosquitoes. He crawled inside under the mosquito bar with various things
from the pack to put at the head of the bed under the slant of the canvas.
Inside the tent the light came through the brown canvas. It smelled
pleasantly of canvas. Already there was something mysterious and homelike.
Nick was happy as he crawled inside the tent. He had not been unhappy all
day. This was different though. Now things were done. There had been this to
do. Now it was done. It had been a hard trip. He was very tired. That was