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Found finger: 29 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
12. Your Lord inspired the angels: “I am with you, so support those who believe. I will cast terror into the hearts of those who disbelieve. So strike above the necks, and strike off every fingertip of theirs.” 12Ўшанда Роббингиз фаришталарга: «Мен, албатта, сиз биланман, бас, сиз иймон келтирганларни собит қилинг, тезда куфр келтирганларнинг қалбларига қўрқинч соламан. Бас, бўйинлар устидан зарба беринглар ва ҳамма бармоқларига зарба беринглар», деб ваҳий қилган эди.
He sat back and drew forth a pipe. He looked into it with sharp scrutiny, and tapped it emptily on his open palm. He turned the hair-seal tobacco pouch inside out and dusted the lining, treasuring carefully each flake and mite of tobacco that his efforts gleaned. The result was scarce a thimbleful. He searched in his pockets, and brought forward, between thumb and forefinger, tiny pinches of rubbish. Here and there in this rubbish were crumbs of tobacco. These he segregated with microscopic care, though he occasionally permitted small particles of foreign substance to accompany the crumbs to the hoard in his palm. He even deliberately added small, semi-hard woolly fluffs, that had come originally from the coat lining, and that had lain for long months in the bottoms of the pockets. Моргансон ўтириб олиб мундштугини чиқазди, ҳафсала билан кўрикдан ўтказиб, кафтига нуқиб-нуқиб кўрди, гарчи ичида тамаки бўлмаса-да. Сўнгра тюлен терисидан тикилган тамаки халтасини тескари ағдариб, тамаки қолдиқларини териб, астардан борини сидириб олди. Тўплаган тамакиси ангишвонача чиқмади; чўнтакларини титкилади, бармоқларига тамаки қолдиқлари аралаш бир чимдим қўқим илинди. Увоқдайини ҳам кўздан қочирмай тамаки зарраларини ажратиб олди, адоқсиз ойлар давомида чўнтак тубида яшириниб-чигалланиб ётган майда жун астар толалари ҳам уларга қўшилиб кетганди.
They came into view around the outjutting clump of trees. To the fore was the third man whose name he had not learnt. Then came eight dogs drawing the sled. At the front of the sled, guiding it by the gee-pole, walked John Thompson. The rear was brought up by Oleson, the Swede. He was certainly a fine man, Morganson thought, as he looked at the bulk of him in his squirrel-skin parka. The men and dogs were silhouetted sharply against the white of the landscape. They had the seeming of two dimension, cardboard figures that worked mechanically. Morganson rested his cocked rifle in the notch in the tree. He became abruptly aware that his fingers were cold, and discovered that his right hand was bare. He did not know that he had taken off the mitten. He slipped it on again hastily. The men and dogs drew closer, and he could see their breaths spouting into visibility in the cold air. When the first man was fifty yards away, Morganson slipped the mitten from his right hand. He placed the first finger on the trigger and aimed low. Улар ўрмон дўнглиги ортида кўринишди. Олдинда Моргансон исмини билмайдигани. Ортидан чанага қўшилган саккизта ит. Жон Томсон ёнбошда таёқ кўмагида уларни йўлга солиб келмоқда. Энг охирида швед Ольсон. “Хушрўй барзанги”, деб ўйлади Моргансон нигоҳлари бу девқоматнинг эгни-бошида сирпанар экан. Одамлар ва итлар қораси оқ гиламда аниқ-тиниқ намоён бўларкан. Улар сурат сингари ясси кўринар, турнақатор ҳаракатланишарди. Моргансон қуролни тиргакка қўйиб отишга чоғланган замон бармоқлари увишиб қолганини сезди. Одамлар ва итлар борган сари яқин келаверишди. Паға-паға буғ уларнинг оғзидан чиқаётган ҳовур эканлигини кўрди. Олдиндаги эллик ярдга яқинлашганда Моргансон кўрсатгич бармоғини тепкига қўйди.
He held his fire and desperately studied Oleson's flight. The giant was grotesquely curving and twisting and running at top speed along the trail, the tail of his parka flapping smartly behind. Morganson trained his rifle on the man and with a swaying action followed his erratic flight. Morganson's finger was getting numb. He could scarcely feel the trigger. "God help me," he breathed a prayer aloud, and pulled the trigger. The running man pitched forward on his face, rebounded from the hard trail, and slid along, rolling over and over. He threshed for a moment with his arms and then lay quiet. Моргансон зўр диққат билан қочоқни кузатар эди. У олға силжиётган Ольсонга милтиғи милини тўғрилади. Бармоғи увушиб қолибди, тепкини сезмади. – Тангрим, ўзинг мадад бер! – нидо қилди ва тепкини босди. Ольсон юзтубан йиқилди, заранг йўлда бир неча марта ўмбалоқ ошди. Қўллари ёрдамида туришга чиранди, бироздан кейин қимирламай қолди.
Especially remarkable to Morganson was the extreme pallor of the Swede, who the preceding night had been so ruddy-faced. Now his face was like white marble. What with his fair hair and lashes he looked like a carved statue rather than something that had been a man a few minutes before. Morganson pulled off his mittens and searched the body. There was no money-belt around the waist next to the skin, nor did he find a gold-sack. In a breast pocket he lit on a small wallet. With fingers that swiftly went numb with the frost, he hurried through the contents of the wallet. There were letters with foreign stamps and postmarks on them, and several receipts and memorandum accounts, and a letter of credit for eight hundred dollars. That was all. There was no money. Ҳаммасидан кўра Моргансонни шведнинг докадек оқарган афти ажаблантирди. Кечагина лоларзордек қип-қизил эди. Ҳозир эса мармар каби оппоқ. Оқ-сариқ сочлар ва киприклар мармар ҳайкалга муштараклик касб этмоқда. Бу одамни бир неча дақиқа илгари тирик юрганини тасаввур қилиш қийин. Моргансон жасадни тинтишга тушди. На пул чандилган белбоғ, на олтин тўла халта топилди. Парканинг* кўкрак чўнтагида чоғроқ кармон қаппайиб турибди. Ичидаги борини титкилаб кўрди – ажнабий муҳрли ва маркали мактуб, бир қанча квитанция, қандайдир ҳисоб- китоблар, маълумотномалар, саккиз юз долларга аккредитив… Бор-йўғи шу. Пулдан асар ҳам йўқ.

"Him Whitefish man," he said to Emily Travis. "Me savve um talk no very much. Him want to look see chief white man."
"The Governor," suggested Dickensen.
Jimmy talked some more with the Whitefish man, and his face went grave and puzzled.
"I t'ink um want Cap'n Alexander," he explained. "Him say um kill white man, white woman, white boy, plenty kill um white people. Him want to die."
"Insane, I guess," said Dickensen.
"What you call dat?" queried Jimmy.
Dickensen thrust a finger figuratively inside his head and imparted a rotary motion thereto.
"Mebbe so, mebbe so," said Jimmy, returning to Imber, who still demanded the chief man of the white men.

– У Оқбалиқ қабиласидан, – деди у Эмили Тревисга. – Меники унинг тилини яхши билмайди. У энг катта оқ танлини кўрмоқчи.
– Губернаторни, – тўғрилади Диккенсен.
Жимми Оқбалиқ қабиласидан бўлган одам билан яна бир неча сўз алмашдию, юзи таажжуб ва ташвишли тус олди.
– Унга капитан Александер керак, деб ўйлайман, – деди Жимми. – Айтишича, у оқ танли эркакни, аёлни, болани, кўпгина-кўпгина одамни ўлдирган. Ўзи ҳам ўлишни истайди.
– Ақлдан озган, шекилли, – деди Диккенсен.
– Бу нима дегани? – сўради Жимми.
Диккенсен бош чаноғини тешмоқчидек бармоғини чаккасига тиради-да айлантирди.
– Балки, балки, – деди Жимми ҳамон оқ танлиларнинг каттасини сўраётган Имберга ўгирилиб.
He hobbled along the trail to the sled, his fingers making involuntary gripping and clutching movements inside the mittens У оқсаб-тўқсаб, ёвузларча қўлларини мушт тугиб чаналарига отилди
He fingered the smooth black rod in his pocket. У чўнтагидаги қора рангли силлиқ стерженни ушлаб кўрди
He saw a finger spiral at a man’s temple. Кимнингнидир кўрсаткич бармоғини чеккасига тираб айлантирганига кўзи тушди