Зов предков

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ
Л76

© КАРО, 2015
ISBN 978-5-9925-1054-6

Лондон, Джек.

Л76  
Зов предков : книга для чтения на английском 
языке / Дж. Лондон. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 
2015. — 160 с. — (Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1054-6.

«Зов предков» — одна из ранних работ Джека Лондона. 
Главным героем романа является пес, и поэтому принято считать, что это детская книга. Однако зрелость и глубина идей 
этого произведения делает его актуальным и для взрослых 
читателей. В нем затрагиваются такие темы, как выживание 
сильнейших, противостояние цивилизации и природы, 
судьбы и свободы воли.
Действие романа происходит в Юконе (Канада) во времена золотой лихорадки. Тогда спрос на крупных и сильных 
собак был особенно высок. Пса Бэка, помесь шотландской 
овчарки и сенбернара, привезли с пастушьего ранчо в 
Калифорнии на север. Бэк попадает в суровую реальность 
жизни ездовой собаки. Роман рассказывает о сложностях, 
которые испытывает Бэк, пытаясь выжить в новых для себя 
условиях.
В книге приводится полный неадаптированный текст 
романа с комментариями и словарем.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ

“Old longings nomadic leap,
Chafi ng at custom’s chain;
Again from its brumal sleep
Wakens the ferine strain.”

Chapter I

Into the Primitive

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would 
have known that trouble was brewing1, not alone for 
himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of 
 muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound 
to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic 
darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because 
steamship and transportation companies were 
booming the fi nd2, thousands of men were rushing 
into the Northland. Th ese men wanted dogs, and 
the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong 
muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect 
them from the frost.
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa 
Clara Valley. Judge Miller’s place, it was called. It 
stood back from the road, half hidden among the 

1 trouble was brewing — (разг.) надвигалась беда
2 were booming the fi nd — раструбили об этой находке

THE CALL OF THE WILD

4

trees, through which glimpses could be caught of 
the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides. 
Th e house was approached by gravelled driveways 
which wound about through wide-spreading lawns 
and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars. 
At the rear things were on even a more spacious 
scale than at the front. Th ere were great stables, 
where a dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of 
vine-clad servants’ cottages, an endless and orderly array of outhouses, long grape arbors, green 
pastures, orchards, and berry patches. Th en there 
was the pumping plant for the artesian well, and the 
big cement tank where Judge Miller’s boys took their 
morning plunge and kept cool in the hot aft ernoon.
And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here he 
was born, and here he had lived the four years of his 
life. It was true, there were other dogs. Th ere could 
not but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they did 
not count. Th ey came and went, resided in the populous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses of 
the house aft er the fashion of Toots, the Japanese 
pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, — strange 
creatures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot 
to ground. On the other hand, there were the fox 
terriers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearful 
promises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the 

CHAPTER I 

5

windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops.
But Buck was neither house-dog nor kenneldog. Th e whole realm was his. He plunged into the 
swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge’s 
sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s 
daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the Judge’s feet before 
the roaring library fi re; he carried the Judge’s grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and 
guarded their footsteps through wild adventures 
down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even 
beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry 
patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, 
and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was 
king, — king over all creeping, crawling, fl ying 
things of Judge Miller’s place, humans included.
His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been 
the Judge’s inseparable companion, and Buck bid 
fair to follow in the way of his father. He was not so 
large, — he weighed only one hundred and forty 
pounds, — for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotch 
shepherd dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and forty 
pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes 
of good living and universal respect, enabled him to 
carry himself in right royal fashion. During the four 
years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of 

THE CALL OF THE WILD

6

a sated aristocrat; he had a fi ne pride in himself, was 
even a trifl e egotistical, as country gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation. But 
he had saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house-dog. Hunting and kindred outdoor 
delights had kept down the fat and hardened his 
muscles; and to him, as to the cold-tubbing races, 
the love of water had been a tonic and a health preserver.
And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the 
fall of 1897, when the Klondike strike1 dragged men 
from all the world into the frozen North. But Buck 
did not read the newspapers, and he did not know 
that Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was an 
undesirable acquaintance. Manuel had one besetting sin. He loved to play Chinese lottery. Also, in 
his gambling, he had one besetting weakness — 
faith in a system; and this made his damnation 
certain. For to play a system requires money, while 
the wages of a gardener’s helper do not lap over the 
needs of a wife and numerous progeny.
Th e Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers’ 
Association, and the boys were busy organizing an 

1 the Klondike strike — «золотая лихорадка» в Клондайке (северо-запад Канады) — в 1896 г. были открыты 
богатейшие месторождения золота, туда хлынул поток 
золотоискателей

CHAPTER I 

7

athletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel’s 
treachery. No one saw him and Buck go off  through 
the orchard on what Buck imagined was merely a 
stroll. And with the exception of a solitary man, no 
one saw them arrive at the little fl ag station known 
as College Park. Th is man talked with Manuel, and 
money chinked between them.
“You might wrap up the goods before you deliver ’m,” the stranger said gruffl  y, and Manuel doubled 
a piece of stout rope around Buck’s neck under the 
collar.
“Twist it, an’ you’ll choke ’m plentee,” said 
Manuel, and the stranger grunted a ready affi  rmative.
Buck had accepted the rope with quiet dignity. 
To be sure, it was an unwonted performance: but he 
had learned to trust in men he knew, and to give 
them credit for a wisdom that outreached his own. 
But when the ends of the rope were placed in the 
stranger’s hands, he growled menacingly. He had 
merely intimated his displeasure, in his pride believing that to intimate was to command. But to his 
surprise the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off  his breath. In quick rage he sprang at the 
man, who met him halfway, grappled him close by 
the throat, and with a deft  twist threw him over on 
his back. Th en the rope tightened mercilessly, while 

THE CALL OF THE WILD

8

Buck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of his 
mouth and his great chest panting futilely. Never in 
all his life had he been so vilely treated, and never in 
all his life had he been so angry. But his strength 
ebbed, his eyes glazed, and he knew nothing when 
the train was fl agged and the two men threw him 
into the baggage car.
Th e next he knew, he was dimly aware that his 
tongue was hurting and that he was being jolted 
along in some kind of a conveyance. Th e hoarse 
shriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing told 
him where he was. He had travelled too oft en with 
the Judge not to know the sensation of riding in a 
baggage car. He opened his eyes, and into them 
came the unbridled anger of a kidnapped king. Th e 
man sprang for his throat, but Buck was too quick 
for him. His jaws closed on the hand, nor did they 
relax till his senses were choked out of him once 
more.
“Yep, has fi ts,” the man said, hiding his mangled 
hand from the baggageman, who had been attracted 
by the sounds of struggle. “I’m takin’ ’m up for the 
boss to ’Frisco. A crack dog-doctor there thinks that 
he can cure ’m.”
Concerning that night’s ride, the man spoke 
most eloquently for himself, in a little shed back of 
a saloon on the San Francisco water front.

CHAPTER I 

9

“All I get is fi ft y for it,” he grumbled; “an’ I wouldn’t 
do it over for a thousand, cold cash1.”
His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, 
and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to 
ankle.
“How much did the other mug get?” the saloonkeeper demanded.
“A hundred,” was the reply. “Wouldn’t take a sou 
less, so help me.”
“Th at makes a hundred and fi ft y,” the saloonkeeper calculated; “and he’s worth it, or I’m a 
squarehead2.”
Th e kidnapper undid the bloody wrappings and 
looked at his lacerated hand. “If I don’t get the hydrophoby3 — ”
“It’ll be because you was born to hang,” laughed 
the saloon-keeper. “Here, lend me a hand before 
you pull your freight,” he added.
Dazed, suff ering intolerable pain from throat and 
tongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buck 
attempted to face his tormentors. But he was thrown 
down and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded in 

1 cold cash — (разг.) наличными
2 or I’m a squarehead — (разг.) или я ничего в этом 
не смыслю
3 If I don’t get the hydrophoby — (зд.) Только бы он 
не оказался бешеный

THE CALL OF THE WILD

10

fi ling the heavy brass collar from off  his neck. Th en 
the rope was removed, and he was fl ung into a cagelike crate.
Th ere he lay for the remainder of the weary night, 
nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could not 
understand what it all meant. What did they want 
with him, these strange men? Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate? He did not 
know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense 
of impending calamity. Several times during the 
night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at 
least. But each time it was the bulging face of the saloon-keeper that peered in at him by the sickly light 
of a tallow candle. And each time the joyful bark 
that trembled in Buck’s throat was twisted into a 
savage growl.
But the saloon-keeper let him alone, and in the 
morning four men entered and picked up the crate. 
More tormentors, Buck decided, for they were evillooking creatures, ragged and unkempt; and he 
stormed and raged at them through the bars. Th ey 
only laughed and poked sticks at him, which he 
promptly assailed with his teeth till he realized that 
that was what they wanted. Whereupon he lay down 
sullenly and allowed the crate to be lift ed into a 
 wagon. Th en he, and the crate in which he was