large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb_139
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
He followed the trail of the other man who dragged himself along, and soon came to the end of it  a few fresh picked bones where the soggy moss was marked by the foot pads of many wolves. He saw a squat moose hide sack, mate to his own, which had been torn by sharp teeth. HE FOLLOWED THE TRAIL OF THE OTHER MAN WHO DRAGGED HIMSELF ALONG AND SOON CAME TO THE END OF IT A FEW FRESH PICKED BONES WHERE THE SOGGY MOSS WAS MARKED BY THE FOOTPATHS OF MANY WOLVES HE SAW A SQUAT MOOSE HIDE SACK MADE TO HIS OWN WHICH HAD BEEN TORN BY SHARP TEETH
 its legs, like a miserable and woe-begone dog. It shivered in the chill morning wind, and grinned dispiritedly when the man spoke to it in a voice that achieved no more than a hoarse whisper. The sun rose brightly, and all morning the man tottered and fell toward the ship on the shining sea. The weather was perfect. It was the brief Indian Summer of the high latitudes. It might last a week. To-morrow or next day it might he gone. In the afternoon the man came upon a trail. It was of another man, who did not walk, but who dragged himself on all fours. The man thought it might be Bill, but he thought in a dull, uninterested way. He had no curiosity. In fact, sensation and emotion had left him. He was no longer susceptible to pain. Stomach and nerves had gone to sleep. Yet the life that was in him drove him on. He was very weary, but it refused to die. It was because it refused to die that he still ate muskeg berries and minnows, drank his hot water, and kept a wary eye on the sick wolf. ROUCHED WITH TAIL BETWEEN ITS LEGS LIKE A MISERABLE AND WOEBEGONE DOG IT SHIVERED IN THE CHILL MORNING WIND AND GRINNED DISPIRITEDLY WHEN THE MAN SPOKE TO IT IN A VOICE THAT ACHIEVED NO MORE THAN A HOARSE WHISPER THE SUN ROSE BRIGHTLY AND ALL MORNING THE MAN TOTTERED AND FELL TOWARD THE SHIP ON THE SHINING SEA THE WEATHER WAS PERFECT IT WAS THE BRIEF INDIAN SUMMER OF THE HIGH LATITUDES IT MIGHT LAST A WEEK TO MORROW OR THE NEXT DAY IT MIGHT BE GONE IN THE AFTERNOON THE MAN CAME UPON A TRAIL IT WAS OF ANOTHER MAN WHO DID NOT WALK BUT WHO DRAGGED HIMSELF ON ALL FOURS THE MAN THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE BILL BUT HE THOUGHT IN A DULL UNINTERESTED WAY HE HAD NO CURIOSITY IN FACT SENSATION AND EMOTION HAD LEFT HIM HE WAS NO LONGER SUSCEPTIBLE TO PAIN STOMACH AND NERVES HAD GONE TO SLEEP YET THE LIFE THAT WAS IN HIM DROVE HIM ON HE WAS VERY WEARY BUT IT REFUSED TO DIE IT WAS BECAUSE IT REFUSED TO DIE THAT HE STILL ATE MUSKEG BERRIES AND MINNOWS DRANK HIS HOT WATER AND KEPT A WARY EYE ON THE SICK WOLF
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb.flac