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- Джон Бакен
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- Запретный лес
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- Стр. 194/195
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Three
hours
after
the
fuddled
packman
was
left
rubbing
his
eyes
,
two
men
entered
the
back
room
of
a
little
hostelry
in
Leith
within
a
stone
’
s
throw
of
the
harbour
.
The
dust
of
moorburn
and
the
April
roads
was
on
them
,
and
one
of
the
two
was
limping
and
very
weary
.
The
only
occupant
of
the
room
was
a
man
in
a
great
seaman
’
s
coat
who
was
eating
a
hasty
meal
.
He
rose
to
his
feet
with
an
exclamation
.
"
Mark
!
"
he
cried
.
"
In
the
name
of
God
,
man
.
.
.
"
"
When
does
the
sloop
sail
?
"
"
In
the
next
hour
with
the
tide
.
"
"
The
Lord
be
thanked
!
.
.
.
You
’
ll
have
this
gentleman
and
me
as
fellow
-
passengers
,
Patie
.
.
.
"
"
Wheesht
,
man
.
They
ken
me
in
this
place
as
Jens
Gunnersen
,
a
skipper
out
of
Denmark
.
.
.
I
’
m
for
Bergen
.
"
"
Bergen
be
it
.
All
roads
are
the
same
for
us
that
lead
forth
of
this
waesome
land
.
A
bite
and
sup
would
be
welcome
,
Patie
,
and
two
ship
’
s
cloaks
to
cover
our
landward
clothes
.
.
.
.
I
’
m
for
the
wars
again
,
old
friend
,
and
I
’
ve
gotten
a
braw
recruit
,
but
the
tale
can
bide
till
we
’
re
on
shipboard
.
"
But
three
hours
later
the
telling
had
not
begun
.
Two
men
with
wistful
eyes
leaned
over
the
stern
bulwarks
,
and
watched
the
hills
of
Lothian
dwindle
in
the
bleak
April
dawn
.
