The Call of the Wild / Зов предков. Книга для чтения на английском языке

”

Concerning that night’s ride, the man spoke most eloquently for himself, in a little shed back of a saloon on the San Francisco water front.

“All I get is fifty for it,” he grumbled; “an’ I wouldn’t do it over for a thousand, cold cash[4 - cold cash – (разг.) наличными].”

His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to ankle.

“How much did the other mug get?” the saloonkeeper demanded.

“A hundred,” was the reply.

“Wouldn’t take a sou less, so help me.”

“That makes a hundred and fifty,” the saloonkeeper calculated; “and he’s worth it, or I’m a squarehead[5 - or I’m a squarehead – (разг.) или я ничего в этом не смыслю].”

The kidnapper undid the bloody wrappings and looked at his lacerated hand. “If I don’t get the hydrophoby[6 - If I don’t get the hydrophoby – (зд.) Только бы он не оказался бешеный] – ”

“It’ll be because you was born to hang,” laughed the saloon-keeper.

“Here, lend me a hand before you pull your freight,” he added.

Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat and tongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buck attempted to face his tormentors. But he was thrown down and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded in filing the heavy brass collar from off his neck. Then the rope was removed, and he was flung into a cage-like crate.

There he lay for the remainder of the weary night, nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could not understand what it all meant. What did they want with him, these strange men? Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate? He did not know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense of impending calamity. Several times during the night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at least. But each time it was the bulging face of the saloon-keeper that peered in at him by the sickly light of a tallow candle.

And each time the joyful bark that trembled in Buck’s throat was twisted into a savage growl.

But the saloon-keeper let him alone, and in the morning four men entered and picked up the crate. More tormentors, Buck decided, for they were evil-looking creatures, ragged and unkempt; and he stormed and raged at them through the bars.