He was almost ready to go when I fo

He was almost ready to go when I found him. He was, to be exact, engaged in putting the final lashings onto his big truck. Blackened and blistered, and loaded up with all his worldly possessions, it was backed right up to a dry old verandah littered with dead leaves and odds and ends of rubbish. He turned to me as I got near, his bloodshot eyes squinting at me with frank hostility.
“Another newshawk.”
“The Weekly, Mr Allen.”
His expression softened a little. “I’ve got nothing against the Weekly.”
“We thought there might be something more to it,” I said gently. “We know the dailies never tell a straight story.”
“They did this time,” he replied. “I’m not making excuses.”
With the dexterity of a man who did it every day, he tied a sheepshank, ran the end of the rope through a ring under the decking, up through the eye of the knot, and back to the ring.
“I’ve got something to answer for all right,” he said with tight lips. “But nobody need worry, I’ll pay! I’ll pay for it all the rest of my life. I’m that way now I can’t bear the sight of my own kids.”
I kept silent for a moment. “We understand that, Mr Allen. We just thought there might be something that hasn’t come out yet.”
“No, I wouldn’t say there’s anything that hasn’t come out. It’s just that – well, people don’t think enough, they don’t think, that’s all.”
He was facing me now, and looking very much, in his immobility, a part of the great background of desolation. The marks of fire were all over him. Charred boots, burned patches on his clothes, singed eyebrows, blistered face and hands, little crusts all over his hat where sparks had fallen. Over his shoulder the sun was just rising between Hunter and Mabooda Hills, a monstrous ball of copper glowing and fading behind the waves of smoke still drifting up from the valley. Fifty yards away the dusty track marked the western limit of destruction. The ground on this side of it was the first brown earth I had seen since leaving Burt’s Creek; Allen’s house the first survivor after a tragic procession of stark chimney stacks and overturned water tanks.
“It must have been hell!” I said.
“That?” He made a gesture of indifference. “That’s nothing. It’ll come good again. It’s the children.”
“I know.”
The door of the house opened. I saw a woman with children at her skirts. She jumped as she caught sight of me, and in an instant the door banged, leaving me with an impression of whirling skirts and large frightened eyes.
“The wife’s worse than me,” said Allen, “she can’t face anybody.”
He was looking away from me now, frowning and withdrawn, in the way of a man living something all over again, something he can’t leave alone. I could think of nothing to say which wouldn’t sound offensively platitudinous. It was the most unhappy assignment I had ever been given. I couldn’t get out of my mind the hatred in the faces of some men down on the main road when I’d asked to be directed to the Allen home.
I took out my cigarettes, and was pleased when he accepted one. A man won’t do that if he has decided not to talk to you.
“How did it come to be you?” I asked. “Did Vince order you to go, or did you volunteer?” Vince was the foreman ranger in that part of the Dandenongs.
“I didn’t ask him, if that’s what you mean. I don’t work for the Commission. The truck’s my living, I’m a carrier. But everybody’s in on a fire, and Vince is in charge.”
“Vince picked you . . .”
“He picked me because I had the truck with me. I’d been down to the Gully to bring up more men, and it was parked on the break.”
“Then it isn’t true . . .”
“That I looked for the job because of my own kids? No! That’s a damned lie. I didn’t even have cause to be worried about my own kids just then. I’m not trying to get out of it, but there’s plenty to blame besides me: the Forestry Commission, the Education Department and everybody in Burt’s Creek and Yileena if it comes to that. Those children should never have been there to begin with. They should have been sent down to the Gully on Friday or kept in their homes. The fire was on this side of the reserve right up to noon.”
He wheeled, pointing towards the distant top of Wanga Hill. Through the drifting haze of smoke we could make out the little heap of ruins closely ringed by black and naked spars that had been trees. Here and there along the very crest, where the road ran, the sun glinted now and then on the windscreens of standing cars, morbid sightseers from the city.
“Just look at it!” he said vehemently. “Timber right up to the fence-lines! A school in a half-acre paddock – in country like this!”
His arm fell. “But what’s the use of talking? I was told to go and get the kids out, and I didn’t do it. I got my own. Nothing else matters now.”
“You thought there was time to pick up your own children first, and then go on to the school, Mr Allen?”
“That’s about the size of it,” he assented gloomily.
I’d felt all along that he did want to talk to somebody about it. It came now with a rush.
“Nut it out for yourself,” he appealed. “What your paper says isn’t going to make anybody think any different now. But I’ll tell you this: there isn’t another bloke in the world would have done anything else. I should be shot – I wish to God they would shoot me! – but I’m still no worse than anybody else. I was the one it happened to, that’s all. Them people who lost kids have got a perfect right to hate my guts, but supposing it had been one of them? Supposing it had been you ... what would you have done?”
I just looked at him.
“You know, don’t you? In your own heart you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“The way it worked out you’d think somebody had laid a trap for me. Vince had got word that the fire had jumped the main road and was working up the far side of Wanga. And he told me to take the truck and make sure the kids had been got away from the school. All right – now follow me. I get started. I come along the low road there. I get the idea right away that I’ll pick up my own wife and kids afterwards. But when I reach that bit of open country near Hagen’s bridge when you can see Wanga, I look up. And, so help me God! there’s smoke. Now that can mean only one thing: that the Burt’s Creek leg of the fire has jumped the Government break and is heading this way. Think that one over. I can see the very roof of my house, and there’s smoke showing at the back of it. I know there’s scrub right up to the fences, and I’ve got a wife and kids there. The other way there’s twenty kids, but there’s no smoke showing yet. And the wind’s in the north-east. And I’m in a good truck. And there’s a fair track right through from my place to the school. What would you expect me to do?”
He would see the answer in my face.
“There was the choice,” he said with dignified finality. “One way, my own two kids. The other way, twenty kids that weren’t mine. That’s how everybody sees it, just as simple as that.”
“When did you first realise you were too late for the school?”
“As soon as I pulled up here. My wife had seen me coming and was outside with the kids and a couple of bundles. She ran up to the truck as I stopped, shouting and pointing behind me.” He closed his eyes and shivered. “When I put my head out at the side and looked back I couldn’t see the school. A bloke just above the creek had a lot of fern and blackberry cut, all ready for burning off. The fire had got into that and was right across the bottom of Wanga in the time it took me to get to my place from the road. The school never had a hope. Some of the kids got up as far as the road, but it’s not very wide and there was heavy fern right out to the metal.”
I waited, while he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.
“I’d have gone through, though, just the same, if it hadn’t been for the wife. She’ll tell you. We had a fight down there where the tracks branch. I had the truck flat out and headed for Wanga. I knew what it meant, but I’d have done it. I got it into my head there was nothing else to do but cremate the lot, truck and everything in it. But the wife grabbed the wheel. It’s a wonder we didn’t leave the road.”
“You turned back …”
“Yes, damn my soul! I turned back. There was fire everywhere. Look at the truck. The road was alight both sides all the way back to Hagen’s. Just the same, it would have been better if we’d gone on.”
That, I felt, was the simple truth, his own two innocents notwithstanding. I had an impulse to ask him what happened when he reached Burt’s Creek, but restrained myself. His shame was painful to witness.
A minute or two later I said goodbye. He was reluctant to take my hand.
“I kept trying to tell myself somebody else might have got the kids out,” he whispered. “But nobody did. Word had got around somehow that the school had been evacuated. Only the teacher – they found her with a bunch of them half a mile down the road. And to top it all off my own place got missed! That bit of cultivation down there – you wouldn’t read about it, would you?”
No, you wouldn’t read about it.
In the afternoon, at the Gully, standing near the ruins of the hotel, I saw him passing. A big fire-scarred truck rolling slowly down the debris-littered road. Behind the dirty windscreen one could, just discern the hunted faces of a man and woman. Two children peeped out of a torn side-curtain. Here and there people searching the ashes of their homes stood upright and watched with hard and bitter faces.

Результаты (китайский) 1:

He was almost ready to go when I found him. He was, to be exact, engaged in putting the final lashings onto his big truck. Blackened and blistered, and loaded up with all his worldly possessions, it was backed right up to a dry old verandah littered with dead leaves and odds and ends of rubbish. Turned to me He as I got near, his bloodshot eyes squinting at me with frank hostility. "Another newshawk." "The Weekly, Mr Allen." His expression softened a little. "I've got nothing against the Weekly." "We thought there might be something more to it," I said gently. "We know the dailies never tell a straight story." "They did this time," he replied. "I'm not making excuses." With the dexterity of a man who did it every day, he tied a sheepshank, ran the end of the rope through a ring under the decking, up through the eye of the knot, and back to ring the. "I've got something to answer for all right," he said with tight lips. "But nobody need worry, I'll pay! I'll pay for it all the rest of my life. 'm That way I now I can not bear the sight of my own kids. "I kept silent for a moment. "We understand that, Mr Allen. Just thought there We might be something that has not come out yet. "" No, I would not say there's anything that has not come out. That's just It - well, people do not think enough, they do not think, that's all. "He was facing me now, and looking very much, in his immobility, a great part of the background of desolation. The marks of fire were all over him. Charred boots, burned patches on his clothes, singed eyebrows, blistered face and hands, little crusts all over his hat where sparks had fallen. Over his shoulder the sun was just rising between Hunter and Mabooda Hills, a monstrous ball of copper glowing and fading behind the waves of smoke still drifting up from the valley. Fifty yards away the dusty track marked the western limit of destruction. The ground on this side of it was the first brown earth I had seen since leaving Burt's Creek; The house's Allen first survivor after a tragic procession of stark chimney stacks and overturned water tanks. "It must have been hell!" I said. "That?" He made ​​a gesture of indifference. "That's nothing. It'll come good again. The children's It. "" I know. "The door of the house opened. I saw a woman with children at her skirts. She jumped as she caught sight of me, and in an instant the door banged, leaving me with an impression The of whirling skirts and large frightened eyes. "The wife's worse than me," said Allen, "she can not face anybody." He was looking away from me now, frowning and withdrawn, in the way of a man living something all over again, something he can not leave alone. I could think of nothing to say which would not sound offensively platitudinous. It was the most unhappy assignment I had ever been given. Could not get I out of my mind the hatred in the faces of some men down on the main road when I'd asked to be directed to the Allen home. I took out my cigarettes, and was pleased when he accepted one. Man will not A do that if he has decided not to talk to you. "How did it come to be you?" I asked. "Did Vince order you to go, or did you volunteer?" Vince was the foreman ranger in that part of the Dandenongs. "I did not ask him, if that's what you mean. I do not work for the Commission. The truck's my living, I'm a carrier. Everybody's in But on a fire, and Vince is in charge. "" Vince picked you. . . "" He picked me because I had the truck with me. 'd Been down I to the Gully to bring up more men, and it was parked on the break. "" Then it is not true. . . "" That I looked for the job because of my own kids? No! That's a damned lie. I did not even have cause to be worried about my own kids just then. I'm not trying to get out of it, but there's plenty to blame besides me: the Forestry Commission, the Education Department and everybody in Burt's Creek and Yileena if it comes to that. Those children should never have been there to begin with. They should have been sent down to the Gully on Friday or kept in their homes. Was on fire The this side of the reserve right up to noon. "He wheeled, pointing towards the distant top of Wanga Hill. Through the drifting haze of smoke we could make out the little heap of ruins closely ringed by black and naked spars that had been trees. And there along Here the very crest, where the road ran, the sun glinted now and then on the windscreens of cars standing, morbid sightseers from the city. "Just look at it!" He said vehemently. "Timber right up to the fence-lines! A school in A half-acre paddock - in country like this! "His arm fell. "But what's the use of talking? I was told to go and get the kids out, and I did not do it. I got my own. Nothing else matters now. "" You thought there was time to pick up your own children first, and then go on to the school, Mr Allen? "" That's about the size of it, "he assented gloomily. I'd felt all along that he did want to talk to somebody about it. Came now with It a rush. "Nut it out for yourself," he appealed. "What your paper says is not going to make anybody think any different now. But I'll tell you this: there is not another bloke in the world would have done anything else. I should be shot - I wish to God they would shoot me! - But I'm still no worse than anybody else. I was the one it happened to, that's all. Them people who lost kids have got a perfect right to hate my guts, but supposing it had been one of them? It had been Supposing you ... what would you have done? "I just looked at him." You know, do not you? Your own heart In you know? "" Yes, I know. "" The way it worked out you'd think somebody had laid a trap for me. Vince had got word that the fire had jumped the main road and was working up the far side of Wanga. And he told me to take the truck and make sure the kids had been got away from the school. All right - now follow me. I get started. I come along the low road there. I get the idea right away that I'll pick up my own wife and kids afterwards. But when I reach that bit of open country near Hagen's bridge when you can see Wanga, I look up. And, so help me God! there's smoke. Now that can mean only one thing: that the Burt's Creek leg of the fire has jumped the Government break and is heading this way. Think that one over. I can see the very roof of my house, and there's smoke showing at the back of it. I know there's scrub right up to the fences, and I've got a wife and kids there. The other way there's twenty kids, but there's no smoke showing yet. And the wind's in the north-east. And I'm in a good truck. And there's a fair track right through from my place to the school. Would you expect What me to do? "He would see the answer in my
face." There was the choice, "he said with finality dignified. "One way, my own two kids. The other way, twenty kids that were not mine. How everybody's That sees it, just as simple as that.
"" When did you first realise you were too late for the school?
"" As soon as I pulled up here. My wife had seen me coming and was outside with the kids and a couple of bundles. She ran up to the truck as I stopped, shouting and pointing behind me. "He closed his eyes and shivered. "When I put my head out at the side and looked back I could not see the school. A bloke just above the creek had a lot of fern and blackberry cut, all ready for burning off. The fire had got into that and was right across the bottom of Wanga in the time it took me to get to my place from the road. The school never had a hope. Some of the kids got up as far as the road, but it's not very wide and there was heavy fern right out to the metal.
"I waited, while he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to
side." I ' d have gone through, though, just the same, if it had not been for the wife. She'll tell you. We had a fight down there where the tracks branch. I had the truck flat out and headed for Wanga. I knew what it meant, but I'd have done it. I got it into my head there was nothing else to do but cremate the lot, truck and everything in it. But the wife grabbed the wheel. 's A wonder It we did not leave the road.
"" You turned back ...
"" Yes, damn my soul! I turned back. There was fire everywhere. Look at the truck. The road was alight both sides all the way back to Hagen's. The same Just, it would have been better if we'd gone on.
"That, I felt, was the simple truth, his own two innocents notwithstanding. I had an impulse to ask him what happened when he reached Burt's Creek, but restrained myself. Shame painful was His witness to.
A minute or two later I said goodbye. Was reluctant to He take my hand.
"I kept trying to tell myself somebody else might have got the kids out," he whispered. "But nobody did. Word had got around somehow that the school had been evacuated. Only the teacher - they found her with a bunch of them half a mile down the road. And to top it all off my own place got missed! Bit of cultivation That down there - you would not read about it, would you?
"No, you would not read about it.
In the afternoon, at the Gully, standing near the ruins of the hotel, I saw him passing. A big fire-scarred truck rolling slowly down the debris-littered road. Behind the dirty windscreen one could, just discern the hunted faces of a man and woman. Two children peeped out of a torn side-curtain. Here and there people searching the ashes of their homes stood upright and watched with hard and bitter faces.

Результаты (китайский) 2:

他几乎准备走的时候，我发现了他，他，确切的说，从事把最后的圈套到他的大卡车，烟熏和起泡，并装载了他所有的家当，它备份直到干老走廊散落着枯叶和赔率和垃圾的末端。转向我，他为我走近，他布满血丝的眼睛看着我眯眼坦诚敌意
。“ 另一位
newshawk。”“ 周刊，艾伦先生。”
他的表情柔和了一点。“ 我没有什么反对周刊
”。“ 我们认为有可能给它更多的东西，”我轻轻地说，“ 我们知道报纸从来不告诉一条直线的故事。”“他们这样做，”他说。
“我不是在找借口。”
随着一个人每天谁做的灵巧，他追平了sheepshank，通过甲板下的环跑了绳子的一端，向上穿过结的眼球，并回响
。“ 我有东西没事回答，”他双唇紧闭说，“ 但没有人需要担心，我会付出代价！我会付出我的生命为它所有的休息。”M 这样我现在我不能忍受我自己的孩子的踪影
。“ 我保持沉默了片刻，” 我们理解，艾伦先生。只是想有我们可能的东西还没有出来呢
。“” 不，我不会说有什么，还没有出来。这只是它-好了，人们不觉得不够，他们并不认为，这就是全部。“ 他现在正面临着我，样子非常多，他不动，的很大一部分背景凄凉，
火的痕迹都在他身上，烧焦的鞋，烧补丁的衣服，烧焦眉毛，水泡的脸和手，小痂皮都在他的帽子在那里的火花已经下降。在他的肩膀上，太阳刚刚下山的上升亨特和Mabooda山，铜发光和衰落的烟雾仍从山谷漂流了浪推前浪滔天球。五十码开外的尘土飞扬的道路标记破坏的西端。在它这一边的理由是第一棕壤我自从离开伯特溪看到，该房子的艾伦第一幸存者形成了鲜明的烟囱和推翻水箱一个悲剧性的游行后
，“ 那一定是地狱！” 我说
，“ 那？” 他做了冷漠的姿态。“ 这是什么。它会再来不错。孩子们就是这样
。”“ 我知道了
。” 在房子的门开了，我看到一个女人带着孩子在她的裙子。她吓了一跳她抓住了我的视线，并在瞬间将门重重，留下我一个印象，过旋转的裙子和大惊恐的眼睛
。“ 妻子的比我厉害，说：”艾伦，“她无法面对任何人。”
他在寻找离我而去了，皱着眉头和撤回，在一个人的生活的东西的方式一遍，这是他不能放任不管。我能想到的没什么可说的这不会听起来进攻老生常谈，这是最不开心的任务，我有曾经被给予。无法得到我出我的脑海中有些人下来时，我会要求被定向到艾伦家的主要道路脸上的仇恨。
我拿出香烟，并很高兴，当他接受之一。人不会在这样做，如果他已经决定不和你说话
。“ 那是怎么来是你吗？” 我问，“ 难道文斯命令你去，还是你自愿？” 文斯是在丹顿农的那部分工头护林员
。“ 我没有问他，如果这就是你的意思。我不为委员会工作。卡车的我的生活，我是一个载体。每个人都在，但在火灾，而文斯负责
。“” 文斯接你
。。。“” 他来接我，因为我有我的车。“D 去过下来，我的沟壑带来了更多的人，并且它停在休息。
“” 那么是不是真的
。。。“” 那我看是因为我自己的孩子的工作吗？不！这是一个该死的谎言。我甚至没有原因是担心我自己的孩子就在这时，我没有试图摆脱它，但有很多，除了我责怪：林业委员会，教育厅，每个人都在伯特的小河和Yileena如果涉及到这些儿童不应该在那里开始。他们应该有被下放到发展沟上周五，或保存在自己的家园。着火的存款准备金的这一侧一直到中午了
。“ 他转过身，指着的Wanga山遥远的顶部。通过烟雾飘过的阴霾，我们可以使从废墟已被树木，黑色和裸体梁紧紧环抱的小堆沿着这里非常顶峰，那里的道路跑，太阳不时闪耀在汽车的挡风玻璃城站，病态的观光游客和那里。
“你看看吧！” 他激烈地说，“ 木材说得最多的栅栏线！一个学校在一个半英亩的围场-在全国类似这样的
”他的手臂下滑。“ 但是有什么用说话？有人告诉我去把孩子们出来了，我没有做到这一点。我有我自己的。没什么，现在别的事情
。“” 你以为有时间去接自己的孩子，然后再继续到学校，艾伦先生
？“” 这是对的它的大小，“他沮丧地表示同意，
我会觉得一直以来，他也想和别人说说话吧。现在带着它匆忙
。” 坚果出来为自己，“他呼吁。” 你的论文说的是不会让任何人觉得有什么不同了。但我可以告诉你：没有在世界上的另一个家伙会做什么。我应该出手-我希望上帝他们会杀了我！-但我还在原地不逊于任何人，我是第一个它发生在，这就是全部。他们这些人谁失去了孩子们一定要恨我的胆量一个完美的权利，但假如它一直其中之一吗？它已经假设你.. ，你会怎么做
？“ 我只是看着
他，” 你知道的，不是吗？你自己的心脏在你知道吗
？“” 是的，我知道
。“” 它的工作，你会觉得有人奠定方式对我来说，一个圈套文斯已经得到消息，大火就蹿主路，被工作了Wanga的另一边。他向我借了车，并确保孩子们得到了已经离开了学校。好-现在跟我走。我上手。我一起走低端路线那里。我的想法的时候了，我会拿起自己的妻子和孩子之后。但是，当我到附近哈根的桥梁开放的国家的该位，当你。可以看到Wanga，我抬头一看！而且，所以帮助我的上帝。有烟，现在可以只意味着一件事：火灾伯特溪站已经跃升政府决裂，并朝这个方向努力。认为一个人过。我可以看到我的房子很屋顶，有烟表现在它的后面。我知道有磨砂说得最多的围栏，和我有一个妻子和孩子在那里。另一种方法有第二十孩子，但有没有硝烟的展示呢。而风在东北部。而且我在一个良好的卡车上。而且有一个公平的轨道离我家到学校的权利，通过。你希望我做什么
？“ 他将看到回答我
的脸。“ 有选择，”他终结凝重。说“的一种方式，我自己的两个孩子。另一种方法二十孩子是不是我的。怎么每个人都是能看见它，就这么简单。
“” 你什么时候意识到你是为时已晚的学校吗
？“” 只要我把车停在这里。我的妻子看到我来了，在外面的孩子和一对夫妇捆绑的。她跑到卡车作为我停了下来，喊，指着我的身后。“他闭上了眼睛，颤抖着。” 当我把我的头了在一边，回头一看，我看不到学校的。一个家伙正上方的小溪有很多蕨类植物和黑莓切，所有的准备烧掉。该火了一个习惯，这一点，是对整个Wanga在我花了去在路上我的地方的时候底部。学校从未有过的希望。有些孩子起身至于道路，但它不是非常广泛，有重蕨右出的金属
。“ 我等待着，而他闭上了眼睛，缓缓地摇了摇头，从一边到
另一边。” 我倒是已经通过，但是，一样的，如果它没有一直为妻子。她会告诉你的。我们打了下来，其中有轨道分支。我有车平出和Wanga领导。我知道这意味着什么，但我都做到了。我知道了进入我的脑袋没有什么事情可做，但火化很多，卡车和一切在里面。但是，妻子抓住了方向盘。“ 真是一个奇迹呢？我们没有离开的道路
。”“ 你回头
......”“ 是的，该死的，我的灵魂！我转身。有火光四起，看车，路的大火双方所有的方式回到哈根的。同样的只是，它会更好，如果我们已经走了的
。“ 这，我感觉，很简单的道理，他自己的两条无辜的，尽管，我有一种冲动，问他，当他到达伯特溪发生了什么事，但克制自己。羞耻痛苦的是他的见证。
一两分钟后，我说了再见。。舍不得他牵着我的手
：“我一直试图告诉自己，别人可能已经得到了孩子们，”他低声说，“ 但没有人响应。词已经传开某种程度上说，学校已经撤离。只有老师-他们，发现她与一群人半英里的道路并以最糟糕的是我自己的地方得到错过！栽培位也出现了下滑-你不会读到它，你会吗
？“ 不，你不会读这件事。
当天下午，在沟，站在附近酒店的废墟上，我看到他传球。那么大的火，伤痕累累的车轧慢慢放下碎片散落路面。肮脏的挡风玻璃背后的一个可能，只是辨别猎物一个男人和女人的脸。两个孩子露出了撕裂侧帘式的，在这里和那里的人寻找家园的废墟上站着，看着与艰苦卓绝的面孔。

Результаты (китайский) 3:

当我找到他时，他已经准备好了。他，是准确的，从事着把最后到他的大卡车。黑色和起泡，又装载了他所有的财产，它是支持到干老阳台散落着枯叶和零碎的垃圾。他向我走近，他那双布满血丝的眼睛盯着我
弗兰克的敌意。“另一个新闻记者。”
”每周一次的，艾伦先生。”
他的表情柔和一点。“我没什么反对的，”我们认为有更多的东西，“我轻轻地说。“我们知道，报纸从未告诉真相。”
”他们这样做的时候，”他回答道。“我不是在找借口。”
与人的每一天是谁的灵巧，他平缩结，