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- Джон Джон Бакен
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- Стр. 31/83
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That
made
me
do
some
savage
thinking
.
My
enemies
had
located
me
,
and
the
next
thing
would
be
a
cordon
round
me
.
I
did
n't
know
what
force
they
could
command
,
but
I
was
certain
it
would
be
sufficient
.
The
aeroplane
had
seen
my
bicycle
,
and
would
conclude
that
I
would
try
to
escape
by
the
road
.
In
that
case
there
might
be
a
chance
on
the
moors
to
the
right
or
left
.
I
wheeled
the
machine
a
hundred
yards
from
the
highway
,
and
plunged
it
into
a
moss-hole
,
where
it
sank
among
pond-weed
and
water-buttercups
.
Then
I
climbed
to
a
knoll
which
gave
me
a
view
of
the
two
valleys
.
Nothing
was
stirring
on
the
long
white
ribbon
that
threaded
them
.
I
have
said
there
was
not
cover
in
the
whole
place
to
hide
a
rat
.
As
the
day
advanced
it
was
flooded
with
soft
fresh
light
till
it
had
the
fragrant
sunniness
of
the
South
African
veld
.
At
other
times
I
would
have
liked
the
place
,
but
now
it
seemed
to
suffocate
me
.
The
free
moorlands
were
prison
walls
,
and
the
keen
hill
air
was
the
breath
of
a
dungeon
.
I
tossed
a
coin
--
heads
right
,
tails
left
--
and
it
fell
heads
,
so
I
turned
to
the
north
.
In
a
little
I
came
to
the
brow
of
the
ridge
which
was
the
containing
wall
of
the
pass
.
I
saw
the
highroad
for
maybe
ten
miles
,
and
far
down
it
something
that
was
moving
,
and
that
I
took
to
be
a
motor-car
.
Beyond
the
ridge
I
looked
on
a
rolling
green
moor
,
which
fell
away
into
wooded
glens
.
Now
my
life
on
the
veld
has
given
me
the
eyes
of
a
kite
,
and
I
can
see
things
for
which
most
men
need
a
telescope
...
Away
down
the
slope
,
a
couple
of
miles
away
,
several
men
were
advancing
,
like
a
row
of
beaters
at
a
shoot
.
I
dropped
out
of
sight
behind
the
sky-line
.
That
way
was
shut
to
me
,
and
I
must
try
the
bigger
hills
to
the
south
beyond
the
highway
.
The
car
I
had
noticed
was
getting
nearer
,
but
it
was
still
a
long
way
off
with
some
very
steep
gradients
before
it
.
I
ran
hard
,
crouching
low
except
in
the
hollows
,
and
as
I
ran
I
kept
scanning
the
brow
of
the
hill
before
me
.
Was
it
imagination
,
or
did
I
see
figures
--
one
,
two
,
perhaps
more
--
moving
in
a
glen
beyond
the
stream
?
If
you
are
hemmed
in
on
all
sides
in
a
patch
of
land
there
is
only
one
chance
of
escape
.
You
must
stay
in
the
patch
,
and
let
your
enemies
search
it
and
not
find
you
.
That
was
good
sense
,
but
how
on
earth
was
I
to
escape
notice
in
that
table-cloth
of
a
place
?
I
would
have
buried
myself
to
the
neck
in
mud
or
lain
below
water
or
climbed
the
tallest
tree
.
But
there
was
not
a
stick
of
wood
,
the
bog-holes
were
little
puddles
,
the
stream
was
a
slender
trickle
.
There
was
nothing
but
short
heather
,
and
bare
hill
bent
,
and
the
white
highway
.
Then
in
a
tiny
bight
of
road
,
beside
a
heap
of
stones
,
I
found
the
roadman
.
He
had
just
arrived
,
and
was
wearily
flinging
down
his
hammer
.
He
looked
at
me
with
a
fishy
eye
and
yawned
.
"
Confoond
the
day
I
ever
left
the
herdin
'
!
"
he
said
,
as
if
to
the
world
at
large
.
"
There
I
was
my
ain
maister
.
Now
I
'm
a
slave
to
the
Goavernment
,
tethered
to
the
roadside
,
wi
'
sair
een
,
and
a
back
like
a
suckle
.
"
