[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
has been killed, this one by falling through the ice. But it was a trap."
"Tell me?"
"The soldier thought he was following a trail across a river. The trail seemed
Page 155
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
to lead through a small snowdrift on the ice. I did not know, but ice
underneath a blanket of snow grows soft."
"Nor did I know." He put down his cup. "He's an amazing man, this American of
yours. I wish him luck."
"Vanya! How can you say such a thing! He is an enemy of the Russian people!"
Vanya shrugged. "One such enemy can do little harm. From all I hear, you would
be better off to let him be. If he does not die out there, he can never cross
the Strait. Even for such a man it is impossible. When I was doing the book on
the walrus hunters I had some experience with the radar. To cross that Strait
is it cannot be none!"
Twenty-Nine
He stumbled along on feet numb from cold. The snow was thin over the frozen
earth, and the trees were scattered, offering only a little shelter from the
wind. He was leaving tracks now, but he could not take the time to cover his
trail. What he needed now, desperately, was food and shelter.
The icy cold had numbed his mind. He was not thinking clearly. He had to plan,
he had to be evasive. He must leave some traps to slow them up. He must
frighten them into caution.
If only he could be warm! Just once again!
He heard the wolves snarling and fighting before he saw them. They had pulled
down a deer and were tearing at it. He shouted and they looked around at him.
He tried to wave them away, but they were hungry, too. There were three of
them, big wolves and in no mind to give up their kill.
He shouted again and ran at them. They backed up, snarling. At any other time
they would have run off, but meat was scarce in the taiga.
He notched an arrow with stiff, clumsy fingers. He let fly at the largest of
the wolves, and the wolf was no more than twenty-five yards off. The arrow
took him in the shoulder and he sprang back, biting at it and snarling. The
others backed off a little as he closed in. Now he had the pistol out. He did
not wish to waste ammunition, but this was a time when he would chance both
the sound of the gun and the loss of the cartridge.
The one he had shot with the arrow was dying now. He walked forward a few more
steps. He had never fired this pistol, but he had been a dead shot since
childhood, when everybody had used guns in the mountains of his birth. As he
moved in, they backed off. One made a running charge at him, a bluff only.
When he continued to advance, they retreated again.
He retrieved his arrow and then cut meat from the freshly killed deer, backing
off, watching them, the meat in one hand, the pistol in the other.
When he had gone a mile or two into the forest, he found a place in the lee of
Page 156
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
a gigantic fallen tree. Finding some broken stubs of branches and some heavy
bark, he put them together on the snow to form a base for his fire. From under
a deadfall that lay across the larger tree he took some hanging strings of
bark and crumbled them in his hands. From the trunks of trees nearby he broke
dead suckers, small branches that had started to grow from the trunks and then
died.
With a bow and drill, he started his fire, blowing it gently into flame. Then
with other broken pieces of wood lying about, he built up the floor for his
fire and, adding bark, coaxed a larger flame into being. He had been tempted
to eat the meat raw, but there are often parasites in raw meat that cooking
will destroy, so he roasted the meat on sticks over the fire.
When he had eaten, he got up and gathered broken branches for a lean-to
shelter. It was hurriedly and clumsily made, but sufficient for the night to
come. He paused to warm his hands over the fire and then to hold warm hands
over his ears and nose. He tried to remember what month it was and failed. The
days had passed into weeks and the weeks into months. Spring was at least a
month away, he decided, and perhaps more.
A little warmth and a little food and he felt much better. Man needs so
little, he thought, yet he begins wanting so much.
Gathering fuel, he glanced at the mountain ridge opposite. In this area of
relatively low mountains it was higher than most, and the side facing him was
very steep. Above all, there was snow on the mountaintop, quite a lot of it in
fact. A curling lip of snow hung over the edge, and the steep slope below was
a litter of fallen trees and boulders. He checked his distance and decided
that in the event of an avalanche, he was beyond its reach, but not by very
much.
He built up a screen for his fire to reflect heat back into his corner away
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]