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- Стр. 358/927
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Fretting
,
she
dug
her
chin
into
her
arm
.
Just
when
she
needed
her
strength
most
,
this
toe
had
to
fester
.
Those
fools
would
never
catch
the
sow
.
It
had
taken
them
a
week
to
capture
the
pigs
,
one
by
one
,
and
now
after
two
weeks
the
sow
was
still
at
liberty
.
Scarlett
knew
that
if
she
were
just
there
in
the
swamp
with
them
,
she
could
tuck
up
her
dress
to
her
knees
and
take
the
rope
and
lasso
the
sow
before
you
could
say
Jack
Robinson
.
But
even
after
the
sow
was
caught
--
if
she
were
caught
?
What
then
,
after
she
and
her
litter
were
eaten
?
Life
would
go
on
and
so
would
appetites
.
Winter
was
coming
and
there
would
be
no
food
,
not
even
the
poor
remnants
of
the
vegetables
from
the
neighbors
'
gardens
.
They
must
have
dried
peas
and
sorghum
and
meal
and
rice
and
--
and
--
oh
,
so
many
things
.
Corn
and
cotton
seed
for
next
spring
's
planting
,
and
new
clothes
too
.
Where
was
it
all
to
come
from
and
how
would
she
pay
for
it
?
She
had
privately
gone
through
Gerald
's
pockets
and
his
cash
box
and
all
she
could
find
was
stacks
of
Confederate
bonds
and
three
thousand
dollars
in
Confederate
bills
.
That
was
about
enough
to
buy
one
square
meal
for
them
all
,
she
thought
ironically
,
now
that
Confederate
money
was
worth
almost
less
than
nothing
at
all
.
But
if
she
did
have
money
and
could
find
food
,
how
would
she
haul
it
home
to
Tara
?
Why
had
God
let
the
old
horse
die
?
Even
that
sorry
animal
Rhett
had
stolen
would
make
all
the
difference
in
the
world
to
them
.
Oh
,
those
fine
sleek
mules
which
used
to
kick
up
their
heels
in
the
pasture
across
the
road
,
and
the
handsome
carriage
horses
,
her
little
mare
,
the
girls
'
ponies
and
Gerald
's
big
stallion
racing
about
and
tearing
up
the
turf
--
Oh
,
for
one
of
them
,
even
the
balkiest
mule
!
But
,
no
matter
--
when
her
foot
healed
she
would
walk
to
Jonesboro
.
It
would
be
the
longest
walk
she
had
ever
taken
in
her
life
,
but
walk
it
she
would
.
Even
if
the
Yankees
had
burned
the
town
completely
,
she
would
certainly
find
someone
in
the
neighborhood
who
could
tell
her
where
to
get
food
.
Wade
's
pinched
face
rose
up
before
her
eyes
.
He
did
n't
like
yams
,
he
repeated
;
wanted
a
drumstick
and
some
rice
and
gravy
.
The
bright
sunlight
in
the
front
yard
suddenly
clouded
and
the
trees
blurred
through
tears
.
Scarlett
dropped
her
head
on
her
arms
and
struggled
not
to
cry
.
Crying
was
so
useless
now
.
The
only
time
crying
ever
did
any
good
was
when
there
was
a
man
around
from
whom
you
wished
favors
.
As
she
crouched
there
,
squeezing
her
eyes
tightly
to
keep
back
the
tears
,
she
was
startled
by
the
sound
of
trotting
hooves
.
But
she
did
not
raise
her
head
.
She
had
imagined
that
sound
too
often
in
the
nights
and
days
of
these
last
two
weeks
,
just
as
she
had
imagined
she
heard
the
rustle
of
Ellen
's
skirts
.
Her
heart
hammered
,
as
it
always
did
at
such
moments
,
before
she
told
herself
sternly
:
"
Do
n't
be
a
fool
.
"
But
the
hooves
slowed
down
in
a
startlingly
natural
way
to
the
rhythm
of
a
walk
and
there
was
the
measured
scrunch-scrunch
on
the
gravel
.
It
was
a
horse
--
the
Tarletons
,
the
Fontaines
!
She
looked
up
quickly
.
It
was
a
Yankee
cavalryman
.
Automatically
,
she
dodged
behind
the
curtain
and
peered
fascinated
at
him
through
the
dim
folds
of
the
cloth
,
so
startled
that
the
breath
went
out
of
her
lungs
with
a
gasp
.
He
sat
slouched
in
the
saddle
,
a
thick
,
rough-looking
man
with
an
unkempt
black
beard
straggling
over
his
unbuttoned
blue
jacket
.
Little
close-set
eyes
,
squinting
in
the
sun
glare
,
calmly
surveyed
the
house
from
beneath
the
visor
of
his
tight
blue
cap
.
As
he
slowly
dismounted
and
tossed
the
bridle
reins
over
the
hitching
post
,
Scarlett
's
breath
came
back
to
her
as
suddenly
and
painfully
as
after
a
blow
in
the
stomach
.
