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- Эдгар Райс Берроуз
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As
Clayton
stooped
to
reach
for
it
he
was
amazed
to
see
it
move
further
into
the
room
,
and
then
he
realized
that
it
was
being
pushed
inward
by
someone
from
without
.
Quickly
and
silently
he
stepped
toward
the
door
,
but
,
as
he
reached
for
the
knob
to
throw
it
open
,
his
wife
's
hand
fell
upon
his
wrist
.
"
No
,
John
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
They
do
not
wish
to
be
seen
,
and
so
we
can
not
afford
to
see
them
.
Do
not
forget
that
we
are
keeping
to
the
middle
of
the
road
.
"
Clayton
smiled
and
dropped
his
hand
to
his
side
.
Thus
they
stood
watching
the
little
bit
of
white
paper
until
it
finally
remained
at
rest
upon
the
floor
just
inside
the
door
.
Then
Clayton
stooped
and
picked
it
up
.
It
was
a
bit
of
grimy
,
white
paper
roughly
folded
into
a
ragged
square
.
Opening
it
they
found
a
crude
message
printed
almost
illegibly
,
and
with
many
evidences
of
an
unaccustomed
task
.
Translated
,
it
was
a
warning
to
the
Claytons
to
refrain
from
reporting
the
loss
of
the
revolvers
,
or
from
repeating
what
the
old
sailor
had
told
them
--
to
refrain
on
pain
of
death
.
"
I
rather
imagine
we
'll
be
good
,
"
said
Clayton
with
a
rueful
smile
.
"
About
all
we
can
do
is
to
sit
tight
and
wait
for
whatever
may
come
.
"
Nor
did
they
have
long
to
wait
,
for
the
next
morning
as
Clayton
was
emerging
on
deck
for
his
accustomed
walk
before
breakfast
,
a
shot
rang
out
,
and
then
another
,
and
another
.
The
sight
which
met
his
eyes
confirmed
his
worst
fears
.
Facing
the
little
knot
of
officers
was
the
entire
motley
crew
of
the
Fuwalda
,
and
at
their
head
stood
Black
Michael
.
At
the
first
volley
from
the
officers
the
men
ran
for
shelter
,
and
from
points
of
vantage
behind
masts
,
wheel-house
and
cabin
they
returned
the
fire
of
the
five
men
who
represented
the
hated
authority
of
the
ship
.
