Английский с Джеком Лондоном. Любовь к жизни / Jack London. Love of Live

At nine o’clock he stubbed his toe on a rocky ledge, and from sheer weariness and weakness staggered and fell. He lay for some time, without movement, on his side. Then he slipped out of the pack-straps and clumsily dragged himself into a sitting posture. It was not yet dark, and in the lingering twilight he groped about among the rocks for shreds of dry moss. When he had gathered a heap he built a fire, – a smouldering, smudgy fire, – and put a tin pot of water on to boil.

He unwrapped his pack (он развернул свой вьюк; to wrap – завертывать, сворачивать) and the first thing he did was to count his matches (и первым, что он сделал, – посчитал свои спички). There were sixty-seven (/их/ было шестьдесят семь). He counted them three times to make sure (он посчитал их три раза, чтобы удостовериться; to make sure – убеждаться; удостовериться; на всякий случай; sure – уверенный; надежный). He divided them into several portions (он разделил их на несколько частей), wrapping them in oil paper (завернув их в промасленную бумагу; oil – растительное масло), disposing of one bunch in his empty tobacco pouch (разместив одну связку в своем пустом кисете; to dispose – размещать, располагать), of another bunch in the inside band of his battered hat (другую порцию во внутренней ленте своей потрепанной шапки), of a third bunch under his shirt on the chest (третью связку под рубахой на груди). This accomplished, a panic came upon him (когда это было завершено, его охватила паника; to come on – обрушиться, навалиться на кого-либо /о чем-либо нежелательном, неблагоприятном/), and he unwrapped them all and counted them again (и он развернул их все и пересчитал их опять). There were still sixty-seven (/их/ было все еще шестьдесят семь).

count

[kant], wrap [raep], pouch [pa]

He unwrapped his pack and the first thing he did was to count his matches. There were sixty-seven. He counted them three times to make sure. He divided them into several portions, wrapping them in oil paper, disposing of one bunch in his empty tobacco pouch, of another bunch in the inside band of his battered hat, of a third bunch under his shirt on the chest. This accomplished, a panic came upon him, and he unwrapped them all and counted them again. There were still sixty-seven.