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Found том: 1135 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек

It was the last of Morganson's bacon. In all his life he had never pampered his stomach. In fact, his stomach had been a sort of negligible quantity that bothered him little, and about which he thought less. But now, in the long absence of wonted delights, the keen yearning of his stomach was tickled hugely by the sharp, salty bacon.

Моргансоннинг томоғидан сўнгги бекон* тишлами саримойдай ўтиб кетди. У ҳаётида бирор маротаба ошқозонини бундай сийламаганди. Ошқозон Моргансон учун эътибордан холи ва уни кам безовта қилувчи нарса эди, ўзи ҳам ошқозон масаласида кўпам қайғуравермасди. Лекин ҳозир узоқ очликдан сўнг тузланган бекон бўлаги нафсини қондирди.

Morganson shyly poured the whisky into the glass, partly filling it. Моргансон, хижолатомуз, стаканга бир қултум виски қуйди.
"Go on, make it a man's drink," the barkeeper encouraged. – Қани, қуй, қуй, томоқни жизиллатсин, – деди қовоқхона эгаси унга далда берди.
Morganson tilted the bottle and filled the glass to the brim. He drank the liquor slowly, pleasuring in the fire of it that bit his tongue, sank hotly down his throat, and with warm, gentle caresses permeated his stomach. Моргансон стаканни лабигача тўлдирди. У виски тилини куйдириб, томоғини силаб-сийпаётганидан ва ёқимли илиқлик билан ошқозонига қуйилаётганидан ҳузурланиб, стакандагини майдалади.
At the end of half-an-hour, Morganson said good-bye and left the saloon. He put his galled shoulder to the haul-rope and took the river-trail south. An hour later he halted. An inviting swale left the river and led off to the right at an acute angle. He left his sled and limped up the swale for half a mile. Between him and the river was three hundred yards of flat ground covered with cottonwoods. He crossed the cottonwoods to the bank of the Yukon. The trail went by just beneath, but he did not descend to it. South toward Selkirk he could see the trail widen its sunken length through the snow for over a mile. But to the north, in the direction of Minto, a tree-covered out-jut in the bank a quarter of a mile away screened the trail from him. Ярим соат ўтгач, Моргансон қовоқхона соҳиби билан хайр-хўшлашиб,йўлга чиқди. Қийилиб кетган елкасига арқонни ташлаб, дарё ўзани бўйлаб югургилаб чўзилган чана изидан жануб томон юрди. Бир соат ўтар-ўтмас тўхтади. Ўнгдан дарёга кичкина дара туташганди. Моргансон чаналарни тўхтатиб, оқсоқлана-оқсоқлана дара бўйлаб ярим милча юрди. Бу ердан дарёгача уч юз ярд бор экан. Олдинда тераклар қоплаган тубанлик. Моргансон теракзор оралаб Юкон дарёси томон юрди. Йўл қарийб дарё ёқасигача чўзилган экан. Моргансон у ёққа тушиб ўтирмади. Селкеркка кетаверишдаги қор босган жанубий йўл чаналар изига тўлиб кетган, олдинда яна бир чақиримча масофа кўзга ташланарди. Шимолий, Минто йўналишидаги йўлни эса тахминан чорак милгача ўрмон қоплаб олганди.
In the morning, as soon as he got up, he drew on his mittens, pulled the flaps of his cap down over his ears, and crossed through the cottonwoods to the Yukon. He took his rifle with him. As before, he did not descend the bank. He watched the empty trail for an hour, beating his hands and stamping his feet to keep up the circulation, then returned to the tent for breakfast. There was little tea left in the canister--half a dozen drawings at most; but so meagre a pinch did he put in the teapot that he bade fair to extend the lifetime of the tea indefinitely. His entire food supply consisted of half-a-sack of flour and a part-full can of baking powder. He made biscuits, and ate them slowly, chewing each mouthful with infinite relish. When he had had three he called a halt. He debated a while, reached for another biscuit, then hesitated. He turned to the part sack of flour, lifted it, and judged its weight. "I'm good for a couple of weeks," he spoke aloud. "Maybe three," he added, as he put the biscuits away. Субҳи содиқда Моргансон қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини бостириб, Юкон томон йўл солди. Елкасида милтиқ. Бугун ҳам пастга тушмади. Нақ бир соат кимсасиз йўлни кузатди, қизиш мақсадида депсиниб, кафтини кафтига уриб турди. Кейин нонушта қилгани чодирга қайтиб келди. Тунука қутидаги қуруқ чой ҳам оз қолибди, беш дамламга етади. Декчасига бир чимдимгина чой ташлади. Бор-йўқ озиқ-овқат захираси ярим қопчиқ ун-у оғзи очилган қутидаги хамиртурушдан иборат эди. Моргансон печ устида нон пишириб, шошмасдан нонуштага ўтирди. Ҳар бир луқмадан лаззатланиб тановул қилди. Учта нонни паққос тушириб, тўртинчисига қўл чўзди-ю иккиланиб қолди; қопчиқни кўтариб салмоқлаб кўрди. “Икки ҳафтага етади”, – деди овоз чиқариб ўзига ўзи. Кулчаларни нарироқ суриб: “Балки, уч ҳафтага ҳам етар”, деб қўшиб қўйди.
Again he drew on his mittens, pulled down his ear-flaps, took the rifle, and went out to his station on the river bank. He crouched in the snow, himself unseen, and watched. After a few minutes of inaction, the frost began to bite in, and he rested the rifle across his knees and beat his hands back and forth. Then the sting in his feet became intolerable, and he stepped back from the bank and tramped heavily up and down among the trees. But he did not tramp long at a time. Every several minutes he came to the edge of the bank and peered up and down the trail, as though by sheer will he could materialise the form of a man upon it. The short morning passed, though it had seemed century-long to him, and the trail remained empty. Кейин яна қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини тушириб, милтиқни елкасига осиб, қирғоқнинг юқори томонига кетди. Бировга кўринмайдиган панага ўтиб, атрофни кўздан кечирди. Баданига совуқ ўтмагунча бир неча дақиқа қимир этмай ўтирди; сўнг милтиқни тиззасига қўйиб, кафтларини бир-бирига ишқаб қизитган бўлди. Санчиқли оғриқларга оёқлари дош беролмай қолди. Энди қирғоқдан йироқлашиб, дарахтлар орасида у ёқдан-бу ёққа бориб кела бошлади. Бироқ бу тентирашлар узоққа чўзилмади. Ҳар беш-ўн дақиқа орасида Моргансон қирғоқ лабига келиб, одам қораси кўринармикан, деб диққат билан разм соларди. Қанчалик бениҳоя туюлмасин, қисқагина кун тун билан алмашарди. Йўл эса ўша- ўша хилватлигича қоларди.
On the fifth day the trail returned to life. To the south a dark object appeared, and grew larger. Morganson became alert. He worked his rifle, ejecting a loaded cartridge from the chamber, by the same action replacing it with another, and returning the ejected cartridge into the magazine. He lowered the trigger to half-cock, and drew on his mitten to keep the trigger-hand warm. As the dark object came nearer he made it out to be a man, without dogs or sled, travelling light. He grew nervous, cocked the trigger, then put it back to half-cock again. The man developed into an Indian, and Morganson, with a sigh of disappointment, dropped the rifle across his knees. The Indian went on past and disappeared towards Minto behind the out-jutting clump of trees. Бешинчи куни йўл жонланди. Жануб томонда қора нуқта кўзга ташланди ва у борган сари катталашаверди. Моргансон ҳушёр тортди. Милтиқни шай ҳолатга келтиришга тушди: стволдан ўқни олиб, ўрнига янгисини жойлади. Тепкини сақлагичга тушириб, қўлқопини тортиб қўйди. Қора нуқта яқинлашавергач маълум бўлдики, у ҳинду экан. Моргансон тараддудланиб қолди. Тепкини кўтарди ва яна сақлагичга туширди. Моргансон ҳафсаласи пир бўлиб, милтиқни тиззасига қўйди. Ҳинду ёнгинасидан ўтиб кетди ва дарахтлар орасида ғойиб бўлди.
As the nights grew longer, his periods of daylight watching of the trail grew shorter. Once a sled went by with jingling bells in the darkness, and with sullen resentment he chewed his biscuits and listened to the sounds. Chance conspired against him. Faithfully he had watched the trail for ten days, suffering from the cold all the prolonged torment of the damned, and nothing had happened. Only an Indian, travelling light, had passed in. Now, in the night, when it was impossible for him to watch, men and dogs and a sled loaded with life, passed out, bound south to the sea and the sun and civilisation. Тунлар узайиб, Моргансоннинг кундузги навбатчилиги қисқарди. Бир сафар кечаси қўнғироқчаларини жаранглатиб йўлдан чаналар ўтиб қолди. Моргансон бу черков жоми монанд садоларга қулоқ берганча минг ўкинч билан нон чайнаб ўтирди. Содир бўлаётганларнинг бари унинг истак-хоҳишларининг чаппаси эди гўё. Изғириннинг дўзахий азобларига дош бериб ўн кун сабот-ла йўлдан кўзини узмади. Бироқ барчаси зое кетди. Фақатгина бир ҳинду ўтиб кетди, холос. Энди эса, кечаси, пойлаш зарур бўлмаган паллада одамлар, итлар, чаналар ғизиллаб ўтишмоқда ва улар жануб томон, денгиз, серқуёш ўлкалар, тамаддун ўчоғи томон йўл олишган эди.
The next morning circumstance eased its grip on him. As he started to come out of the tent he saw a huge bull-moose crossing the swale some four hundred yards away. Morganson felt a surge and bound of the blood in him, and then went unaccountably weak. A nausea overpowered him, and he was compelled to sit down a moment to recover. Then he reached for his rifle and took careful aim. The first shot was a hit: he knew it; but the moose turned and broke for the wooded hillside that came down to the swale. Morganson pumped bullets wildly among the trees and brush at the fleeing animal, until it dawned upon him that he was exhausting the ammunition he needed for the sled-load of life for which he waited. Эртасига тақдир унга мурувват кўрсатди. Тонг саҳар кулбадан чиқибоқ тўрт юз ярд нарида юрган буғуга кўзи тушди. Моргансон илкис томирларида қон тезоблик билан югургилаётганини ҳис этди. Кейин эса вужудини тушуниксиз мадорсизлик эгаллади, томоғи қақраб кетди. Ўзига келиб олиш учун бир зумга қорга ётиб олди. Кейин милтиқни тўғрилаб, буғуни аста мўлжалга олди. Биринчи ўқ нишонга тегди, бунга ишончи комил. Бироқ буғу юқорига, тепалик томон чопиб кетди. Моргансон ғазабланиб, дарахтлар орасида лип-лип кўзга ташланаётган ҳайвоннинг ортидан кетма-кет ўқ узаверди. Бу ҳол токи у ҳаёт-мамоти учун зарур бўлган ўқларни ҳавога учираётганини англамагунча давом этди.
Morganson dashed up the hillside--at least he started to dash up. The next he knew he was coming out of a faint and dragging himself to his feet. He went up more slowly, pausing from time to time to breathe and to steady his reeling senses. At last he crawled over the trunk. The moose lay before him. He sat down heavily upon the carcase and laughed. He buried his face in his mittened hands and laughed some more. Моргансон тепалик томон отилди, тўғрироғи, отилмоқчи бўлди. Кўзини очганда ҳушидан кетганини тушунди. Минг азоб билан ўрнидан турди, секин-аста одимлай кетди. Вақти-вақти билан нафасини ростлаб, бироз ўзига келиш учун тўхтади. Ниҳоят, қулаб ётган қарағайгача аранг судралиб етиб келди. Унинг ёнида буғу жонсиз ётарди. Моргансон жасад устига оғир чўкди ва бутун бошли қўшинни ер тишлатган баҳодирдай оғзини йиғиштиролмай қолди.
When he had finished he selected a piece of meat weighing a hundred pounds, and started to drag it down to the tent. But the snow was soft, and it was too much for him. He exchanged it for a twenty-pound piece, and, with many pauses to rest, succeeded in getting it to the tent. He fried some of the meat, but ate sparingly. Then, and automatically, he went out to his crouching place on the bank. There were sled-tracks in the fresh snow on the trail. The sled-load of life had passed by while he had been cutting up the moose. Гўштни бир ёқлик қилгач, юз қадоқ вазнли бўлагини танлаб олиб, чодир томон судраб кетмоқчи бўлди. Аммо бунинг уддасидан чиқолмади. Шунда йигирма қадоқлигини танлаб олди-да, тўхтамасдан чодирга судраб олиб келди. Бир парча гўштни қовуриб, нафсини қондирди. Кейин эса беихтиёр оёқлари ўзининг постига бошлаб кетди. Қорда янги излар пайдо бўлибди: буғу билан андармонлигида чаналар ўтган кўринади.
But he did not mind. He was glad that the sled had not passed before the coming of the moose. The moose had changed his plans. Its meat was worth fifty cents a pound, and he was but little more than three miles from Minto. He need no longer wait for the sled-load of life. The moose was the sled-load of life. He would sell it. He would buy a couple of dogs at Minto, some food and some tobacco, and the dogs would haul him south along the trail to the sea, the sun, and civilisation. Лекин у аза тутиб ўтирмади. Чаналар аввалроқ ўтиб кетмаганидан хурсанд эди: буғу режаларини ўзгартириб юборди. Бир қадоқ гўшт эллик цент туради, Минтогача эса уч чақиримдан зиёдроқ йўлни босиб ўтиши керак. Энди ноз-неъматлар ортилган чаналарни кутиб ўтиришга ҳожат йўқ: буғу уларнинг ўрнини боса олади. У гўштни сотиб, Минтода бир нечта ит, егулик ва тамаки харид қилади ҳамда итлар уни жанубга – денгиз, серқуёш ўлкалар, тамаддун ўчоғи томон олиб кетади.
In the middle of the day he thought of the wild animals that might eat his meat, and he climbed the hill, carrying along his axe, the haul rope, and a sled lashing. In his weak state the making of the cache and storing of the meat was an all-afternoon task. He cut young saplings, trimmed them, and tied them together into a tall scaffold. It was not so strong a cache as he would have desired to make, but he had done his best. To hoist the meat to the top was heart-breaking. The larger pieces defied him until he passed the rope over a limb above, and, with one end fast to a piece of meat, put all his weight on the other end. Кундузи унинг миясига йиртқич ҳайвонлар озуқа захирасини ғажиб ташлайдилар, деган ўй келиб қолди-ю болта ва арқонни олиб, тепалик томон одимлади. Гўштни яшириш учун ўра кавлашга мадори етмасди; бунга нақд бир кун кетади. Бир қанча дарахт ғўлаларини жипс боғлаб, баландгина тахтасупа ясади. Кўзлагани кўнглидагидек чиқмаган эса- да, бундан ортиғи қўлидан келмасди. Гўштни юқорига кўтариш учун ўлардек зўриқиш зарур эди. Шу ерда Моргансон ҳийла ишлатди: арқонни дарахтнинг баланд шохидан ошириб ирғитди-да, бир томонига залворли гўшт бўлагини боғлаб, нариги учига бор вазнини ташлаб, юқорига тортди.
"You've been dead for more'n two months, now," the barkeeper explained. "You left here going south, and you never arrived at Selkirk. Where have you been?" – Икки ойдан зиёдроқ сендан бирон хат-хабар бўлмади, – тушунтирди қовоқхона эгаси. – Бу ердан жануб томон йўл солдинг-у, Селкеркка етиб бормадинг. Қаёқларда қолиб кетдинг, ўзи?
"I heard sounds of chopping several times," he said. "So that was you, eh? Have a drink?" – Ўша томонларда дарахт кесишяпти, деб эшитгандим. Демак, ўша сен экансан-да. Хўш, бирон нима ичасанми?
"That's Jack Thompson," the barkeeper said. "Made two millions on Bonanza and Sulphur, and got more coming. I'm going to bed. Have another drink first." Morganson hesitated. – Бу Жон Томсон, – деди қовоқхоначи. – У Олтингугурт сойида ва Бонанзада икки миллионлик олтин қазиб олган. Пуллар унга шундоқ ҳам оқиб келаверади. Энди ётсам бўлаверади. Балки яна пича отволарсан? Моргансон бош чайқади.
He awoke. It was dark, and he was in his blankets. He had gone to bed in his moccasins and mittens, with the flaps of his cap pulled down over his ears. He got up as quickly as his crippled condition would permit, and built the fire and boiled some water. As he put the spruce-twigs into the teapot he noted the first glimmer of the pale morning light. He caught up his rifle and hobbled in a panic out to the bank. As he crouched and waited, it came to him that he had forgotten to drink his spruce tea. The only other thought in his mind was the possibility of John Thompson changing his mind and not travelling Christmas Day. Моргансон уйғониб кетди. Ҳали тун қора пардасини йиғиштирмабди. У эгни-бошини ечмаёқ қотиб қолган экан. Дик этиб ўрнидан туриб, олов ёқиб, сув қайнатди. Декчага қарағай игнабаргидан сепаётиб субҳнинг илк оқиштоб шуълаларини пайқади-ю, милтиғини олиб, қирғоқ томон шошди. Пистирмага ўрнашиб олгандагина шифобахш дамламасидан ичмагани эсига тушди. Хаёлига, Жон Томсон Рождествонинг биринчи кунида йўлга чиқса керак, деган ўй келди.
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.
When he fired the first man whirled half around and went down on the trail. In the instant of surprise, Morganson pulled the trigger on John Thompson--too low, for the latter staggered and sat down suddenly on the sled. Morganson raised his aim and fired again. John Thompson sank down backward along the top of the loaded sled. Гумбурлаган товуш янгради; олдиндаги одам сулайиб, оёғи осмондан бўлди. Моргансон ҳовлиқиб, Жон Томсонни нишонга олди. Бироқ ўқ ҳато кетди. Жон гандираклаб, чанага минди. Моргансон нишонни юқорироқ олиб, яна ўқ узди. Жон Томсон чалқанчасига ағанади.