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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 26/435
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"
It
’
s
just
gone
half
past
two
.
"
"
That
’
s
not
so
bad
,
"
said
the
sergeant
,
reflecting
;
"
even
if
I
was
forced
to
halt
here
nigh
two
hours
,
that
’
ll
do
.
How
far
might
you
call
yourselves
from
the
marshes
,
hereabouts
?
Not
above
a
mile
,
I
reckon
?
"
"
Just
a
mile
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Joe
.
"
That
’
ll
do
.
We
begin
to
close
in
upon
’
em
about
dusk
.
A
little
before
dusk
,
my
orders
are
.
That
’
ll
do
.
"
"
Convicts
,
sergeant
?
"
asked
Mr
.
Wopsle
,
in
a
matter
-
of
-
course
way
.
"
Ay
!
"
returned
the
sergeant
,
"
two
.
They
’
re
pretty
well
known
to
be
out
on
the
marshes
still
,
and
they
won
’
t
try
to
get
clear
of
’
em
before
dusk
.
Anybody
here
seen
anything
of
any
such
game
?
"
Everybody
,
myself
excepted
,
said
no
,
with
confidence
.
Nobody
thought
of
me
.
"
Well
!
"
said
the
sergeant
,
"
they
’
ll
find
themselves
trapped
in
a
circle
,
I
expect
,
sooner
than
they
count
on
.
Now
,
blacksmith
!
If
you
’
re
ready
,
his
Majesty
the
King
is
.
"
Joe
had
got
his
coat
and
waistcoat
and
cravat
off
,
and
his
leather
apron
on
,
and
passed
into
the
forge
.
One
of
the
soldiers
opened
its
wooden
windows
,
another
lighted
the
fire
,
another
turned
to
at
the
bellows
,
the
rest
stood
round
the
blaze
,
which
was
soon
roaring
.
Then
Joe
began
to
hammer
and
clink
,
hammer
and
clink
,
and
we
all
looked
on
.
