gs.earthabides-第7节

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for　eating…scurrying　after　a　hen；　picking　up　a　squirrel　in　the　park。　And　gradually；　the　pangs　of　hunger　breaking　down　the　long　centuries　of　civilization；　they　drew　closer　to　where　the　unburied　corpses　lay。　
　　Now　no　longer　would　Best…of…Breed　go　for　stance；　and　shape　of　head；　and　markings。　Now　Champion　Golden　Lad　of　Piedmont　IV　no　longer　outranked　the　worst　mongrel　of　the　alley。　The　prize；　which　was　life　itself；　would　go　to　the　one　of　keenest　brain；　staunchest　limb；　and　strongest　jaw；　who　could　best　shape　himself　to　meet　the　new　ways　and　who　in　the　old　petition　of　the　wilderness　could　win　the　means　of　life。　
　　Peaches；　the　honey…colored　spaniel；　sat　disconsolate；　growing　weaker　with　hunger；　too　stupid　to　live　by　craft；　too　short…legged　to　live　by　pursuit　of　prey。。。　Spot；　the　children's　mongrel　pet；　had　the　luck　to　find　a　liner　of　kittens　and　kill　them；　not　for　fun　but　for　food　。。。。　Ned；　the　wire…haired　terrier；　who　had　always　enjoyed　being　on　his　own　and　was　by　nature　a　tramp；　managed　to　get　along　fairly　well　。。。。　Bridget；　the　red　setter；　shivered　and　trembled；　and　now　and　then　howled　faintly　with　a　howl　that　was　scarcely　more　than　a　moan；　her　gentle　spirit　found　no　will　to　live　in　a　world　without　master　or　mistress　to　love。　
　　That　morning　he　worked　out　a　plan。　He　felt　sure　that　in　an　urban　district　of　two　million　people　others　must　be　left　alive。　The　solution　was　obvious；　he　must　find　someone；　anyone。　The　problem　was　how　to　make　contact。　
　　First　he　set　out　to　walk　around　the　neighborhood；　in　the　hope　of　discovering　someone　he　knew。　But　around　the　wellknown　houses　he　saw　no　sign　of　people。　The　lawns　were　parched；　the　flowers；　wilting。　
　　Returning　home；　he　passed　through　the　little　park　where　he　had　often　played　as　a　boy；　climbing　the　tall　rocks。　Two　Of　them　leaned　together　at　the　top　to　form　a　kind　of　little　cave；　high　and　narrow。　Ish　had　often　played　at　hiding　there。　It　seemed　a　natural　primitive　refuge…place；　and　he　looked　into　it。　There　was　no　one。　
　　He　walked　on　across　a　broad　surface　of　smooth　rock　that　sloped　with　the　hillside。　It　was　pitted　with　small　round　holes　marking　the　places　where　squaws　had　once　pounded　with　stone　pestles。　
　　〃The　world　of　those　Indians　passed　away；〃　he　thought。　〃And　now　our　world　that　followed　theirs　has　passed　too。　And　am　I　the　only　one？〃　
　　After　reaching　the　house　again；　he　got　into　his　car；　mapping　out　in　his　head　a　route　to　cover　the　city　so　that　few　areas　would　be　left　out　of　the　sound　of　the　horn。　He　drove　along；　hooting　the　horn　about　every　minute　and　then　waiting；　listening　for　some　reply。　As　he　drove；　he　looked　about　curiously；　appraising　what　had　happened。　
　　The　streets　had　an　early…morning　look。　Many　cars　were　parked；　and　there　was　little　disorder。　Fires　were　burning　here　and　there；　as　he　could　see　by　smoke…columns。　An　occasional　body　lay　where　the　man　had　finally　been　overe；　and　near　one　of　them　he　saw　two　dogs。　At　one　street…er；　the　body　of　a　man　was　hanging　from　the　cross…arm　of　a　telephone　pole；　conspicuously　labeled　with　a　placard　Looter。　After　he　had　passed　this　pole；　he　came　to　a　good…sized　business　district；　and　then　he　noticed　indeed　that　there　must　have　been　a　certain　amount　of　disorder。　The　big　window　of　a　liquor…store　was　broken。　
　　As　he　came　to　the　end　of　the　business　district；　he　blew　his　horn　again　in　his　regular　routine；　and　half　a　minute　later　he　started　to　hear　a　faint　honk　from　far　away。　For　a　moment　he　thought　that　his　ears　might　merely　be　tricking　him。　
　　He　honked　again　quickly；　and　immediately　this　time　he　had　a　reply。　His　heart　sank…〃Echo！〃　he　thought。　But　then　he　honked　again；　a　long　and　a　short；　and　as　he　listened　carefully　the　reply　came　merely　one　long。　
　　He　turned；　and　drove　in　the　direction　of　the　sound；　which　he　estimated　must　be　half　a　mile　away。　Having　driven　three　blocks；　he　honked　again　and　waited。　More　to　the　right　this　time！　He　turned。　Twisting　through　the　streets；　he　came　to　a　blind　end；　turned　around；　and　sought　another　way。　He　honked；　and　the　reply　was　closer。　Straight　ahead　this　time　he　went　on；　overshot；　and　heard　the　next　reply　to　the　right　and　behind　him。　He　took　another　turn；　and　came　to　a　small　business　district。　Cars　were　parked　along　the　street；　but　he　saw　no　one。　He　thought　it　strange　that　whoever　was　signaling　back　to　him　did　not　stand　in　the　street　somewhere　and　wave。　He　honked；　and　suddenly　the　reply　was　almost　at　his　elbow。　He　stopped　the　car；　jumped　out；　and　hurried　along　the　sidewalk。　In　the　front　seat　of　a　car　parked　at　the　curb；　he　saw　a　man。　Even　as　he　looked；　the　man　collapsed　and　fell　forward　on　the　wheel。　The　horn；　pressed　down；　emitted　a　long　squawk　as　the　body　slipped　sideways　to　the　seat。　ing　closer；　Ish　smelled　a　reek　of　whiskey。　He　saw　the　man　with　a　long；　straggly　beard；　his　face　bloated　and　red；　obviously　in　the　last　stages　of　passing…out。　Ish　looked　around；　and　saw　that　the　liquor…store　close　by　was　wide　open。　
　　In　sudden　anger；　Ish　shook　the　yielding　body。　The　man　revived　a　little；　opened　his　eyes；　and　emitted　a　kind　of　grunt　which　might　have　meant；　〃What　is　it？〃　Ish　shoved　the　inert　body　to　a　sitting　position；　as　he　did　so；　the　man's　hand　fumbled　for　the　half…empty　bottle　of　whiskey　which　was　propped　in　the　er　of　the　seat。　Ish　grabbed　it；　threw　it　out；　and　heard　it　splinter　on　the　curbing。　He　was　filled　only　with　a　deep　bitter　anger　and　a　sense　of　horrible　irony。　Of　all　the　survivors　whom　he　might　have　found；　here　was　only　a　poor　old　drunk；　good　for　nothing　more　in　this　world；　or　any　other。　Then　as　the　man's　eyes　opened　and　Ish　looked　into　them；　he　felt　suddenly　no　more　anger；　but　only　a　great　deep　pity。　
　　Those　eyes　had　seen　too　much。　There　was　a　fear　in　them　and　a　horror　that　could　never　be　told。　However　gross　the　bloated　body　of　the　drunkard　might　seem…somewhere；　behind　it　all；　lay　a　sensitive　mind；　and　that　mind　had　seen　more　than　it　could　endure。　Escape　and　oblivion　were　all　that　could　remain。　
　　They　sat　there　together　on　the　seat。　The　eyes　of　the　drunken　man　glanced　here　and　there；　hardly　under　control。　Their　tragedy　seemed　to　grow　only　deeper。　The　breath　came　raspingly。　On　sudden　impulse；　Ish　took　the　inert　wrist　and　felt　for　the　pulse。　It　was　weak　and　irregular。　The　man　had　been　drinking；　doubtless；　for　a　week。　Whether　he　could　last　much　longer　was　questionable。　
　　〃This；　then　is　it！〃　thought　Ish。　The　survivor　might　have　been　a　beautiful　girl；　or　a　fine　intelligent　man；　but　it　was　only　this　drunkard；　too　far　gone　for　any　help。　
　　After　a　while　Ish　got　out　of　the　car。　He　went　into　the　liquor　store　for　curiosity。　A　dead　cat；　it　seemed；　lay　on　the　counter；　but　as　he　looked；　it　stirred　to　life　and　he　realized　that　it　had　merely　been　lying；　after　the　habit　of　cats；　in　such　a　position　that　it　looked　dead。　The　cat　looked　at　him　with　a　kind　of　cold　effrontery；　as　the　duchess　at　the　chambermaid。　Ish　felt　unfortable；　and　had　to　remind　himself　that　this　was　the　way　cats　had　always　behaved。　The　cat　seemed　contented　and　looked　well　fed。　
　　Glancing　around　the　shelves；　Ish　saw　what　he　had　been　curious　about。　The　man　had　not　even　bothered　to　pick　out　the　better　whiskey。　Rot…gut　had　been　good　enough　for　his　purposes。　
　　ing　out；　Ish　saw　that　the　man　had　now　managed　to　find　another　bottle　somewhere；　and　was　taking　a　long　drink。　Ish　realized　that　there　was　nothing　much　he　could　do　about　it。　Still；　he　wanted　to　make　a　last　try。　
　　He　leaned　in　at　the　window　of　the　car。　The　man；　revived　perhaps　by　his　last　drink；　was　a　trifle　more　alert。　He　looked　at　Ish；　seeming　able　to　focus　his　eyes；　and　he　smiled；　rather　pathetically。　
　　〃Hi…ah！〃　he　said　in　a　thick　drawl。　
　　〃How　are　you？〃　said　Ish。　
　　〃Ah…bar…el…low！〃　said　the　man。　
　　Ish　was　trying　to　make　out　what　the　sounds　meant。　The　man　gave　his　pathetic　little　child…like　smile　again；　and　repeated　a　trifle　more　clearly。　
　　〃Ah…nay…bar'l…low！〃　
　　Ish　half　caught　it。　
　　〃Your　name's　Barello？〃　he　asked。　〃No；　Barlow？〃　
　　The　man　nodded　at　the　second　name；　smiled　again；　and　before　Ish　could　do　anything；　he　was　taking　another　drink。　Ish　felt　himself　close　to　tears；　far　from　anger。　What　difference　did　a　man's　name　make　now？　And　yet　Mr。　Barlow；　in　his　befuddled　mind；　was　trying　to　make　what　had　been　in　civilization　the　first　gesture　of　good　will。　
　　Then　quite　gently　Mr。　Barlow　slumped　down　on　the　seat　in　stupor　again；　and　the　whiskey　from　the　unstoppered　bottle　gurgled　out　to　the　floor　of　the　car。　
　　Ish　hesitated。　Should　he　cast　in　his　lot　with　Mr。　Barlow；　get　him　sobered　up；　and　make　him　reform？　From　what　he　knew　of　alcoholics；　he　did　not　think　the　prospects　good。　And　by　staying　he　might　lose　the　chance　to　make　contact　with　some　more　likely　person。　
　　〃You　stay　here；〃　he　said　to　the　collapsed　body；　on　chance　that　it　might　still　be　able　to　hear。　〃I　promise　to　e　back。〃　
　　Having　said　this；　Ish　felt　he　had　fulfilled　a　kind　of　minimal　duty。　He　had　really　no　hope。　The　eyes　showed　that　Mr。　Barlow　had　seen　too　much；　the　pulse；　that　he　had　gone　too　far。　Ish　drove　away；　making　note；　however；　of　the　location。　
　　As　for　the　cats；　they　had　known　little　more　than　five　thousand　years　of　man's　domination；　and　had　always　accepted　it　with　reservations。　Those　unlucky　enough　to　be　left　penned　inside　houses；　so