An irritated
shout passed up and down the line: the front men went too fast, someone
had fallen down. The danger was that they would end up in the wrong part
of the line and have to start all over again. They had been here before,
however; there was something automatic now in the way they could find
their way in the darkness and take the right fork when the choice came;
there was something of routine in their swearing and their violent
protests. At its best it was like pride. They had seen things no human
eyes had looked on before, and they had not turned their gaze away.
|
fork:
gren
swearing:
eder og forbandelser
pride: stolthed
turned their gaze
away: kikkede væk |