alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第46部分

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　Behind　us　Senator　Brewster　blundered　along　in　a　blind　world　all　of　his　own；　stumbling　often；　falling　occasionally　but　always　pushing　himself　up　and　staggering　gamely　on。　And　in　those　few　hours　Hoffman　Brewster；　for　me；　ceased　to　be　a　senator　and　became　again　my　earliest　conception　of　the　old　Dixie　Colonel；　not　the　proud；　rather　overbearing　aristocrat　but　the　embodiment　of　a　bygone　southern　chivalry；　when　courtesy　and　a　splendid　gallantry　in　the　greatest　perils　and　hardships　were　so　routine　as　to　excite　no　ment。　Time　and　time　again　during　that　。bitter　night　be　insisted；　forcibly　insisted；　on　relieving　one　of　the　three　of　us　of　our　burdens　and　would　stagger　along　under　the　load　until　he　reached　the　point　of　collapse。　Despite　his　age；　he　was　a　powerful　man：　but　he　had　no　longer　the　heart　and　the　lungs　and　the　circulation　to　match　his　muscles；　and　his　distress；　as　the　night　wore　on；　became　pitiful　to　see。　The　bloodshot　eyes　were　almost　closed　in　exhaustion；　his　face　deep…etched　in　grey　suffering　and　his　breath　ing　in　painful　whooping　gasps　that　reached　me　clearly　even　above　the　thin　high　shriek　of　the　wind。
　
　No　doubt　but　that　Small　wood　and　Corazzini　had　left　us　to　die；　but　they　had　made　one　mistake：　they　had　forgotten　Balto。　Balto；　as　always；　had　been　running　loose　when　they　had　left　us；　and　they　had　either　failed　to　see　him　or　forgotten　all　about　him。　But　Balto　hadn't　forgotten　us；　he　must　have　known　something　was　far　wrong；　for　all　the　hours　we　had　been　prisoners　on　the　tractor　sled　he　had　never　e　within　a　quarter…mile　of　us。　But　as　soon　as　the　tractor　had　dumped　and　left　us；　he　had　e　loping　in　out　of　the　driving　snow　and　settled　to　the　task　of　leading　us　down　towards　the　glacier。　At　least；　we　hoped　he　was　doing　that。　Jackstraw　declared　that　he　was　following　the　crimp　marks　of　the　Citroen's　caterpillars；　now　deep　buried　under　the　flying　drift　and　new…fallen　snow。　Zagero　wasn't　so　sure。　Once；　twice；　a　dozen　times　that　night；　I　heard　him　muttering　the　same　words：　〃I　hope　to　hell　that　hound　knows　where　it's　goinV
　
　But　Balto　knew　where　he　was　going。　Sometime　during　the　night…it　might　have　been　any　time　between　midnight　and　three　o'clock　in　the　morning…he　stopped　suddenly；　stretched　out　his　neck　and　gave　his　long　eerie　wolf　call。　He　seemed　to　listen　for　an　answer；　and　if　he　heard　anything　it　was　beyond　our　range：　but　he　seemed　satisfied；　for　he　suddenly　changed　direction　and　angled　off　to　the　left　into　the　blizzard。　At　Jackstraw's　nod；　we　followed。
　
　Three　minutes　later　we　came　upon　the　dog…sledge；　with　two　of　the　dogs　curled　up　beside　it；　their　backs　to　the　wind；　their　muzzles　to　their　bellies　and　long　brushes　of　tails　over　their　faces；　the　drift　wailing　high　around　them。　They　were　fortable　enough…so　splendid　an　insulation　does　a　husky's　thick　coat　provide　that　snow　at　forty　degrees　below　zero　will　lie　on　its　back　indefinitely　without　being　melted　by　body　heat…but　they　preferred　freedom　to　fort；　for　they　were　on　their　feet　and　vanished　into　the　swirling　whiteness　beyond　before　we　could　lay　hands　on　them。　That　left　only　the　sledge。
　
　I　suppose　that　after　Smallwood　had　gone　far　enough　to　consider　that　we　would　never　be　able　to　reach　that　point；　he　had　cut　loose　dogs　and　dog…sledge　as　a　needless　encumbrance…but　not　before　he　had　severed　all　the　traces　attaching　the　dogs　to　the　sledge　and；　I　noticed　grimly；　removed　all　the　wraps　and　the　magnetic　pass　that　had　been　there。　He　thought　of　everything。　For　a　moment；　admiration　for　the　man's　undoubtedly　remarkable　qualities　came　in　to　supplant　what　had　bee　the　motivating　reason　for　my　existence；　a　reason　that；　as　the　hours　crawled　by；　were　crowding　out　even　the　feelings　I　had　for　Margaret　Ross：　my　hatred　for　Small　wood　burned　like　a　cold　steady　flame；　an　obsession　with　the　。　idea　of　sinking　my　fingers　into　that　scrawny　throat　and　never　Jetting　go。
　
　Within　three　minutes　of　finding　the　sledge　we　had　tied　together　the　severed　remnants　of　the　traces；　changed　them　to　the　front　and　were　on　our　way　again；　Marie　LeGarde；　Mahler　and　Helene　propped　up　on　the　thin　wooden　slats。　We　had；　of　course；　to　pull　the　sledge　ourselves；　but　that　was　nothing：　for　Jackstraw；　Zagero　and　myself；　the　relief　was　beyond　measure。　But　it　was　only　momentary。
　
　We　were　running　on　to　the　smooth；　slick　ice　of　the　Kangalak　glacier；　but　our　progress　was　no　faster　than　it　had　been　before　we　found　the　sledge。　The　wind　was　climbing　up　to　its　maximum　now；　the　blizzard　shrieking　along　horizontally　to　the　ground　and　ing　in　great　smoking　flurries　that　cut　visibility　to　zero　and　made　us　stop　and　grab　one　another　lest　one　of　us　be　knocked　flying　and　for　ever　lost　to　sight：　several　times　Theodore　Mahler；　restless　in　unconsciousness；　rolled　off　the　sledge　until　I　at　last　made　Brewster　sit　at　the　back　and　watch。　He　protested　violently；　but　he　was　glad　to　do　as　I　said。
　
　I　don't　remember　much　after　that；　I　think　I　must　have　been　unconscious；　eyes　shut；　but　still　plodding　along　in　my　sleep　on　leaden；　frozen　feet。　My　first　conscious　memory　after　installing　Brewster　on　the　back　of　the　sledge　was　of　someone　shaking　me　urgently　by　the　shoulder。　It　was　Jackstraw。
　
　〃No　more！〃　he　shouted　in　my　ear。　〃We　must　stop；　Dr　Mason；　wait　till　it's　blown　itself　out。　We　can't　live　through　this。〃
　
　I　said　something　that　was　unintelligible　even　to　myself；　but　Jackstraw　took　it　for　agreement　and　began　pulling　the　sledge　into　the　sloping　side　of　the　glacier　valley　and　to　the　leeward　side　of　one　of　the　snowdrifts　piled　up　against　some　of　the　ridges　on　the　side　of　the　valley。　It　wasn't　all　that　much　of　an　improvement；　but　the　wind　and　the　effect　of　the　blizzard　were　perceptibly　less。　We　unloaded　the　three　sick　people　on　the　sledge　into　what　pitiful　shelter　the　ridge　offered：　I　was　just　about　to　let　my　knees　buckle　and　collapse　beside　them　when　I　realised　that　someone　was　missing：　it　was　a　fair　indication　of　the　toll　taken　by　wind　and　cold　and　exhaustion　that　almost　twenty　seconds　passed　before　I　realised　it　was　Brewster。
　
　〃Good　God！〃　I　cried　in　Jackstraw's　ear。　〃The　Senator…we've　lost　him！　I'll　go　back　and　look。　I　won't　be　a　minute。〃
　
　〃Stay　here。〃　The　grip　on　my　arm　was　promise　enough　that　Jackstraw　meant　to　detain　me　by　force；　if　necessary。　〃You'd　never　e　back。　Balto！　Balto！〃　He　shouted　a　few　Eskimo　words　which　meant　nothing　to　me；　but　the　big　Siberian　seemed　to　understand；　for　he　was　gone　in　a　moment；　following　the　direction　of　Jackstraw's　pointing　hand。　He　was　back　again　inside　two　minutes。
　
　〃He's　found　him？〃　I　asked　Jackstraw。
　
　Jackstraw　nodded　silently。
　
　〃Let's　bring　him　in。〃
　
　Balto　led　us　there；　but　we　didn't　bring　him　in。　Instead　we　left　him　lying　where　we　found　him；　face　down　in　the　snow；　dead。　The　blizzard　was　already　drawing　its　concealing　shroud　over　him；　in　an　hour　he　would　be　no　more　than　a　featureless　white　mound　in　a　featureless　white　valley。　My　hands　were　too　numb　to　examine　him；　but　I　wouldn't　have　bothered　anyway：　the　half…century　of　self…indulgence　in　food　and　drink　and　temper；　all　of　which　had　been　so　clearly　reflected　in　the　heavy　florid　face　when　first　I'd　seen　him；　had　had　their　inevitable　way。　The　heart；　cerebral　thrombosis；　it　didn't　matter　now。　But　he　had　been　a　man。
　
　How　long　we　lay　there；　the　six　of　us　and　Balto　huddled　close　together　for　warmth；　unconscious　or　dozing　while　that　hurricane　of　a　blizzard　reached　then　passed　its　howling　crescendo；　I　never　knew。　Probably　only　half　an　hour；　perhaps　not　even　that。　When　I　awoke；　stiff　and　numbed；　I　reached　for　Jackstraw's　torch。　It　was　exactly　four　o'clock　in　the　morning。
　
　I　looked　at　the　others。　Jackstraw　was　wide　awake　…1　was　pretty　sure　he'd　never　shut　an　eye　lest　one　of　us　slip　away　from　sleep　into　that　easy　frozen　sleep　from　which　there　would　have　been　no　wakening…and　Zagero　was　stirring。　That　they…and　I…would　survive；　I　didn't　doubt。　Helene　was　a　question　mark。　A　seventeen…year…old；　though　short　on　endurance；　was　usually　high　on　resilience　and　recuperative　powers；　but　Helene's　seemed　to　have　deserted　her。　After　the　death　of　her　mistress　and　up　to　the　time　she　had　collapsed　she　had　bee　strangely　withdrawn　and　unresponsive；　and　I　guessed　that　the　death　of　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg　had　hit　her　far　more　than　any　of　us　would　have　guessed。　The　previous　forty…eight　hours　apart；　it　seemed　to　me　that　she　had　had　little　enough　to　thank　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg　for　in　the　way　of　affection　and　warmth：　but；　then；　she　was　young；　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg　had　been　the　person　she　had　known　best　and；　as　a　foreigner；　she　must　have　regarded　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg　as　her　sole　anchor　in　an　alien　sea。。。。　I　asked　Jackstraw　if　he　would　massage　her　hands；　then　turned　to　have　a　look　at　Mahler　and　Marie　LeGarde。
　
　〃They　don't　look　so　hot　to　me。〃　Zagero；　too；　was　studying　them。　〃What's　their　chances'；　Doc？〃
　
　〃I　just　don't　know；〃　I　said　wearily。　〃I　don't　know　at　all。〃
　
　〃Don't　take　it　to　heart；　Doc。　It's　no　fault　of　yours。〃　Zagero　waved　a　hand　towards　the　snow…filled　emptiness　and　desolation　of　the　glacier。　〃Your　dispensary　ain't　all　that　well　stocked。〃
　
　〃No。〃　I　smiled　faintly；　then　nodded　at　Mahler。　〃Bend　down　and　listen　to　his　breathing。　The　end's　ing　pretty　close。　Ordinarily　I'd　say　a　couple　of　hours。　With　Mahler　I　don't　know…he's　got　t