"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 1 - Midworld" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

for a certain parasitic tuber. Bom's people had dis-
covered its usefulness the hard way.

He built the tiny blaze into a modest fire that
burned freely on the smooth, dead floor of the gall.
Its dance and crackle was a great comfort in the
blackness of night. Only one more thing to do. He
had to shake Ruumahum violently to awaken him
long enough to cut a tiny hole two-thirds of the way
up the far side of the gall. Circulation and smoke
exit assured, Bom took a piece of dark jerky from
his belt pouch and chewed at the spicy, rock-hard
meat.

The evening rain began. It would rain all nightтАФ
not an occasional downpour, but a steady, even rain
that would cease two hours before dawn. With few
exceptions, it had rained every night Bom could re-

13

call. As sure as the sun rose in the morning, the rain
came down at night. Water drummed steadily on the
roof of the gall, flowed down its curved sides to drip
away to depths unseen. Ruumahum was fast asleep.

Bom studied the fire for several minutes. Putting
the rest of the jerky away for the next night, he
nestled himself into Ruumahum's flank. The furcot
stirred slightly in sleep, pressing against the inner wall
of the gall, his head curved into his chest. Born
sighed, stared at the solid wall of blackness beyond
the fire. He was satisfied. They had met no scavengers
on this first day of return, and Ruumahum had han-
dled the massive load of the great grazer without fall-
ing asleep even once. He stroked the furcot's fur
appreciatively, running his fingers through the thick
green coat.

A warm, dry shelter for the night, too. Many nights
spent in wetness made him appreciate the dry gall.


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Pulling the green fur cloak tightly about him, he
tamed on his side. His knife was close to his right
hand, the snuffler ready at his feet. Relatively con-
tent and more or less confident of not waking up in