"David Marusek - The Earth Is On The Mend (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marusek David)

It's
dead." When the fisherman pulled a long, black fish out of the hole,
the
old man craned to see. "Ling cod," he whispered. "My oh my."
The fisherman checked fifteen more holes, adding another fish to his
catch
before leaving the lake. It was dusk when the old man led the dog to
the
nearest hole. He cleared it and pulled up the line. The line was made
from
 sinew, except for the leader which was a yard of monofilament. He
showed
it to the dog. "Look at this, will you. And this." The hook was made of
stainless steel and baited with a quarter trout. "Dolly Varden." He
dropped the line back into the hole, changed his mind, and pulled it up
again. "Don't you dare tell anyone," he said as he removed the bait,
bit
off a mouthful, and tossed the remainder to the dog.
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The fisherman's trail weaved among snow-choked hills. When darkness
fell,
the old man let the dog lead the way. The smell of woodsmoke told him
they
were near.
The hut was built of poles and caribou skins and heaped with earth. A
wannigan of arched snow blocks served as entrance. The old man stashed
the
sled behind a pair of birch trees not far from this entrance and
unharnessed the dog. He fastened his parka and hood and sat on the
sled.
The dog curled up at his feet. After an hour or so, the moon came out
and
revealed the yard in pale light. There were drying racks and two small
outbuildings. There was a food cache slung between two giant white
spruce.
There was a woodpile and chopping block. Two pairs of skis leaned
against
the wannigan. Every now and then a voice or laugh could be heard from
inside the hut. "That means he's not alone," said the old man.
He led the dog on a tour around the hut. There were no tracks behind it
and, as best as he could tell, no back door. There was no dog yard or
sign
of dog. One of the outbuildings had a door with leather hinges. Inside
were old tools: a shovel, a scythe, axes, a bow saw, and more. There
were
coils of rope, piles of caribou hide, and a crate of metal scraps.
"Clearly, he's a man of wealth and industry," said the old man. "But
who
invited him? I didn't. Did you?" He eased the door shut. "He's got to
go,