（外文电子版资料）William Tenn - Generation of Noah.pdfVIP

Generation of Noah William Tenn That was the day Plunkett heard his wife screaming guardedly to their youngest boy. He let the door of the laying house slam behind him, forgetful of the nervously feeding hens. She had, he realized, cupped her hands over her mouth so that only the boy would hear. Saul! You, Saul! Come back, come right back this instant. Do you want your fa-ther to catch you out there on the road? Saul! The last shriek was higher and clearer, as if she had despaired of attracting the boys attention without at the same time warning the man. Poor Ann! Gently, rapidly, Plunkett shhd his way through the bustling and hungry hens to the side door. He came out facing the brooder run and broke into a heavy, unathletic trot. He heard the other children clatter out of the feed house. Good! They have the responsibility after Ann and me, Plunkett told himself. Let them watch and learn again. Saul! his wifes voice shrilled unhappily. Saul, your fathers coming! Ann came out of the front door and paused. Elliot, she called at his back as he leaped over the flush well-cover. Please, I dont feel well. A difficult pregnancy, of course, and in her sixth month. But that had nothing to do with Saul. Saul knew better. At the last frozen furrow of the truck garden Plunkett gave himself a moment to gather the necessary air for his lungs. Years ago, when Von Rundstedts Tigers roared through the Bulge, he would have been able to dig a foxhole after such a run. Now, he was badly winded. Just showed you: such a short distance from the far end of the middle chicken house to the far end of the vegetable garden—merely crossing four acres—and he was winded. And consider the practice hed had. He could just about see the boy idly lifting a stick to throw for the dogs pleasure. Saul was in the further ditch, well past the white line his father had painted across the road. Elliot, his wife began again