"Jack London. The Call of the Wild (Сборник из 7 рассказов на англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Then he warmed up and enveloped Spitz in a whirlwind of rushes.
Time and time again he tried for the snow-white throat, where life
bubbled near to the surface, and each time and every time Spitz
slashed him and got away. Then Buck took to rushing, as though for
the throat, when, suddenly drawing back his head and curving in
from the side, he would drive his shoulder at the shoulder of
Spitz, as a ram by which to overthrow him. But instead, Buck's
shoulder was slashed down each time as Spitz leaped lightly away.


Spitz was untouched, while Buck was streaming with blood and
panting hard. The fight was growing desperate. And all the while
the silent and wolfish circle waited to finish off whichever dog
went down. As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and he
kept him staggering for footing. Once Buck went over, and the
whole circle of sixty dogs started up; but he recovered himself,
almost in mid air, and the circle sank down again and waited.


But Buck possessed a quality that made for greatness-
imagination. He fought by instinct, but he could fight by head as
well. He rushed, as though attempting the old shoulder trick, but
at the last instant swept low to the snow and in. His teeth
closed on Spitz's left fore leg. There was a crunch of breaking
bone, and the white dog faced him on three legs. Thrice he tried
to knock him over, then repeated the trick and broke the right
fore leg. Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggled
madly to keep up. He saw the silent circle, with gleaming eyes,
lolling tongues, and silvery breaths drifting upward, closing in
upon him as he had seen similar circles close in upon beaten
antagonists in the past. Only this time he was the one who was
beaten.


There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable. Mercy was a
thing reserved for gender climes. He manoeuvred for the final
rush. The circle had tightened till he could feel the breaths of
the huskies on his flanks. He could see them, beyond Spitz and to
either side, half crouching for the spring, their eyes fixed upon
him. A pause seemed to fall. Every animal was motionless as
though turned to stone. Only Spitz quivered and bristled as he
staggered back and forth, snarling with horrible menace, as though
to frighten off impending death. Then Buck sprang in and out; but
while he was in, shoulder had at last squarely met shoulder. The
dark circle became a dot on the moon-flooded snow as Spitz
disappeared from view. Buck stood and looked on, the successful
champion, the dominant primordial beast who had made his kill and
found it good.