large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb_34
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
Then began as grim a tragedy of existence as was ever played  a sick man that crawled, a sick wolf that limped, two creatures dragging their dying carcasses across the desolation and hunting each other's lives. THEN BEGAN AS GRIM A TRAGEDY OF EXISTENCE AS WAS EVER PLAYED A SICK MAN THAT CRAWLED A SICK WOLF THAT LIMPED TWO CREATURES DRAGGING THEIR DYING CARCASSES ACROSS THE DESOLATION AND HUNTING EACH OTHERS LIVES
 several ineffectual attempts to catch them in the tin bucket he forbore. He was afraid, because of his great weakness, that he might fall in and drown. It was for this reason that he did not trust himself to the river astride one of the many drift-logs which lined its sand-spits. That day he decreased the distance between him and the ship by three miles; the next day by two--for he was crawling now as Bill had crawled; and the end of the fifth day found the ship still seven miles away and him unable to make even a mile a day. Still the Indian Summer held on, and he continued to crawl and faint, turn and turn about; and ever the sick wolf coughed and wheezed at his heels. His knees had become raw meat like his feet, and though he padded them with the shirt from his back it was a red track he left behind him on the moss and stones. Once, glancing back, he saw the wolf licking hungrily his bleeding trail, and he saw sharply what his own end might be--unless--unless he could get the wolf. ARGE TO DRAIN AND AFTER SEVERAL INEFFECTUAL ATTEMPTS TO CATCH THEM IN THE TIN BUCKET HE FORBORE HE WAS AFRAID BECAUSE OF HIS GREAT WEAKNESS THAT HE MIGHT FALL IN AND DROWN IT WAS FOR THIS REASON THAT HE DID NOT TRUST HIMSELF TO THE RIVER ASTRIDE ONE OF THE MANY DRIFT LOGS WHICH LINED ITS SAND SPITS THAT DAY HE DECREASED THE DISTANCE BETWEEN HIM AND THE SHIP BY THREE MILES THE NEXT DAY BY TWO FOR HE WAS CRAWLING NOW AS BILL HAD CRAWLED AND THE END OF THE FIFTH DAY FOUND THE SHIP STILL SEVEN MILES AWAY AND HIM UNABLE TO MAKE EVEN A MILE A DAY STILL THE INDIAN SUMMER HELD ON AND HE CONTINUED TO CRAWL AND FAINT TURN AND TURN ABOUT AND EVER THE SICK WOLF COUGHED AND WHEEZED AT HIS HEELS HIS KNEES HAD BECOME RAW MEAT LIKE HIS FEET AND THOUGH HE PATTED THEM WITH A SHIRT FROM HIS BACK IT WAS A RED TRACK HE LEFT BEHIND HIM ON THE MOSS AND STONES ONCE GLANCING BACK HE SAW THE WOLF LICKING HUNGRILY HIS BLEEDING TRAIL AND HE SAW SHARPLY WHAT HIS OWN END MIGHT BE UNLESS UNLESS HE COULD GET THE WOLF
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