"Norton, Andre - Time Traders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

convincing that Ross had to keep reminding himself that it was all just a picture.
The wolf was dead. Its pack mates had fled into the brush, but since the picture remained, Ross
decided that the show was not yet over. He could still hear a click of sound, and he waited for the
next bit of action. But the reason for his viewing it still eluded him.
A man came into view, crossing before Ross. He stooped to examine the dead wolf, catching it by
the tail and hoisting its hindquarters off the ground. Comparing the beast's size with the hunter's,
Ross saw that he had not been wrong in his estimation of the animal's unusually large dimensions.
The man shouted over his shoulder, his words distinct enough, but unintelligible to Ross.
The stranger was oddly dressed--too lightly dressed if one judged the climate by the frequent snow
patches and the biting cold. A strip of coarse cloth, extending from his armpit to about four inches
above the knee, was wound about his body and pulled in at the waist by a belt. The belt, far more
ornate than the cumbersome wrapping, was made of many small chains linking metal plates. It
supported a long dagger which hung straight in front. The man's round blue cloak, now swept back
on his shoulders to free his bare arms, was fastened by a large pin under his chin. His footgear, which
extended above his calves, was made of animal hide, still bearing shaggy hair. He was beardless,
though a shadowy line along his chin suggested that he had not shaved that particular day. A fur cap
concealed most of his dark-brown hair.
Was he an Indian? No, for although his skin was tanned, it was as fair as Ross's under that
weathering. And his clothing did not resemble any Indian apparel Ross had ever seen.
In spite of his primitive trappings, the man had an aura of authority, of self-confidence, and
competence, it was clear he was top dog in his own section of the world.
Another man, dressed much like the first, but with a rust-brown cloak, came along, pulling behind
him two very reluctant donkeys. Their eyes rolled fearfully at sight of the dead wolf. Both animals
wore packs lashed on their backs by ropes of twisted hide. A third man followed with another brace
of donkeys. Finally, a fourth man, wearing skins for covering and with a mat of beard on his cheeks
and chin, appeared. His uncovered head, a bush of uncombed flaxen hair, shone whitish. He knelt
beside the dead beast, a knife with a dull-gray blade in his hand, and set skillfully to work skinning
the wolf. Three more pairs of donkeys, all heavily laden, were led past the scene before he finished
his task. Finally, he rolled the bloody skin into a bundle and gave the flayed body a kick before he ran
lightly after the disappearing train of pack animals.
 2

Ross, absorbed in the scene before him, wasn't prepared for the sudden and complete darkness
which blotted out not only the action but the light in his own room as well.
"What--?" His startled voice rang loudly, too loudly, for all sound had been wiped out with the
light. The faint swish of the ventilating system, which he hadn't noticed until it had disappeared, was
also missing. A trace of the same panic he had known in the cockpit of the aircraft tingled along his
nerves. But this time he could meet the unknown with action.
Ross slowly moved through the dark, his hands outstretched before him to avoid the wall. He was
determined that he would discover the hidden door, escape from this dark cell . . .
There! His palm struck flat against a smooth surface. He swept out his hand--and suddenly it
passed over emptiness. Ross explored by touch. There was a door and now it was open. For a moment
he hesitated, nagged by fear that if he stepped through he would be out on the hillside with the
wolves.
"That's stupid!" Again he spoke aloud. And, just because he did feel uneasy, he moved. All the
frustrations of the past hours built up in him a raging desire to do something--anything--just so long
as it was what he wanted to do and not at another's orders.
Nevertheless, Ross continued to move slowly, for the space beyond that open door was as deep and
dark as the room he left. To squeeze along one wall, using an outstretched arm as a guide, was the
best procedure, he decided.