Name: Love of Life by Jack London, Part Three
Uploaded: 2020-07-03T04:47:57.000Z
Duration: 12 min 27 s
Description: Thousands of YouTube videos with English-Chinese subtitles! Now you can learn to understand native speakers, expand your vocabulary, and improve your pronunciation...

Past continuous

The man had brought his gun half the distance to his shoulder before he realized what he was doing.

He lowered it and drew his hunting knife from its cover.

He ran his finger along the edge of the knife.

You would throw himself on the bear and kill it, but his heart began its pounding.

Then came it's wild leap, and he began to feel faint.

His wild courage was replaced by a great fear in his weakness.

He drew himself up tall, grasping the knife and staring hard at the bear.

The bear advanced a couple of steps and stood up.

If the man ran, the bear would run after him.

Now, with the courage of fear, the bear moved away to one side with a threatening noise.

He himself was fearful of this strange creature that appeared unafraid, but demand did not move.

He stood still until the danger was past.

Then he yielded to a fit of trembling and sank to his knees on the wet grass.

He regained control of himself and then started to move forward, Afraid now in a new manner.

It was not the fear that he would die from lack of food.

He was afraid that he would be destroyed by forces other than starving.

There were the wolves across the wasteland.

Their howls could be heard making the air itself a threat most real to him.

The wolves in groups of two and three crossed his path.

They were not in sufficient numbers to attack.

While this strange creature that walked on two legs my bite.

In the afternoon he came upon scattered bones where the wolves had made a kill.

An hour before he studied the bones, cleaned of any flesh.

They were still pink with the life in them which had not yet died.

Might he looked like that before the day was done?

Was this life a fleeting thing without meaning?

There was no hurt and death to die was to sleep, it meant rest.

But he did not think about these things for very long.

He was soon seated in the grass, a bone in his mouth, biting at the bit of life that made it yet pink.

Sometimes it was the bone that broke, sometimes his teeth.

Then he crushed the bones between the rocks.

And eighth, um he was in such a hurry that he pounded his fingers too.

He felt surprised at the fact that his fingers did not hurt much when they were caught under the rock.

Then came frightful days of snow and rain.

He did not know when he made camp, and when he broke camp, you traveled in the Nite as much as in the day, arrested whenever he fell, moving ahead whenever the dying life in him started up again.

It was the life in him unwilling to die that drove him on.

But his mind was filled with hallucinations and wild dreams.

But he still ate the crushed bones of the young caribou, which he had gathered and carried with him.

He crossed no more hills but followed a large stream, which flowed through a wide valley.

He did not see this stream nor this valley.

One morning he awakened with his mind clear, lying on his back on a rocky surface.

He heard the noises made by the young caribou.

But whether he had been beaten by the storm for two days or two weeks, he did not know.

Friendly son poured down upon him and filled his body with its warmth.

A fine day, he thought perhaps he could succeed in locating himself by a painful effort.

He rolled on his side below him, float a wide river.

He followed it with his eyes, is curved among the bare hills.

They were more bear and lower than any hills he had yet seen.

Slowly, without excitement, he followed the course of the strange stream toward the skyline and saw that it emptied into a bright and shining sea.

He thought it was probably a trick of his mind.

He was certain of this when he also saw ship floating in the shining sea.

He closed his eyes for a while, then opened them.

It was strange how the site continued, yet it was not strange.

He knew there were no sees or ships in the middle of this land.

It seemed like the dry sound that comes from the throat when air is forced out in a car very slowly because of his weakness and stiffness, you rolled to his other side.

You could see nothing near, but you waited patiently again, came the cough, and there, between two rocks, he saw the gray head of a wolf.

The sharp ears did not stand up as straight as he had seen them.

On other wolves, the eyes were dough, and the head seemed a hang.

The animal open and shut its eyes frequently in the sunshine.

He turned on the other side to see the reality of the world, which had been hidden from him before by his hallucination, with C still shown and the ship was still there, was it reality?

He closed his eyes for a long while in thought.

Then he remembered he had been traveling north by east, away from the dese divide and into the Copper Mine Valley.

That ship was, Ah, fishing boat, which had wandered eased from the mouth of the Mackenzie River.