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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 98/287
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Spender
saw
the
thin
dust
rising
in
several
places
in
the
valley
and
he
knew
the
pursuit
was
organized
and
ready
.
He
put
down
the
thin
silver
book
that
he
had
been
reading
as
he
sat
easily
on
a
flat
boulder
.
The
book
’
s
pages
were
tissue
-
thin
,
pure
silver
,
hand
-
painted
in
black
and
gold
.
It
was
a
book
of
philosophy
at
least
ten
thousand
years
old
he
had
found
in
one
of
the
villas
of
a
Martian
valley
town
.
He
was
reluctant
to
lay
it
aside
.
For
a
time
he
had
thought
,
What
’
s
the
use
?
I
’
ll
sit
here
reading
until
they
come
along
and
shoot
me
.
The
first
reaction
to
his
killing
the
six
men
this
morning
had
caused
a
period
of
stunned
blankness
,
then
sickness
,
and
now
,
a
strange
peace
.
But
the
peace
was
passing
,
too
,
for
he
saw
the
dust
billowing
from
the
trails
of
the
hunting
men
,
and
he
experienced
the
return
of
resentment
.
He
took
a
drink
of
cool
water
from
his
hip
canteen
.
Then
he
stood
up
,
stretched
,
yawned
,
and
listened
to
the
peaceful
wonder
of
the
valley
around
him
.
How
very
fine
if
he
and
a
few
others
he
knew
on
Earth
could
be
here
,
live
out
their
lives
here
,
without
a
sound
or
a
worry
.
He
carried
the
book
with
him
in
one
hand
,
the
pistol
ready
in
his
other
.
There
was
a
little
swift
-
running
stream
filled
with
white
pebbles
and
rocks
where
he
undressed
and
waded
in
for
a
brief
washing
.
He
took
all
the
time
he
wanted
before
dressing
and
picking
up
his
gun
again
.
The
firing
began
about
three
in
the
afternoon
.
By
then
Spender
was
high
in
the
hills
.
They
followed
him
through
three
small
Martian
hill
towns
.
Above
the
towns
,
scattered
like
pebbles
,
were
single
villas
where
ancient
families
had
found
a
brook
,
a
green
spot
,
and
laid
out
a
tile
pool
,
a
library
,
and
a
court
with
a
pulsing
fountain
.
Spender
took
half
an
hour
,
swimming
in
one
of
the
pools
which
was
filled
with
the
seasonal
rain
,
waiting
for
the
pursuers
to
catch
up
with
him
.
Shots
rang
out
as
he
was
leaving
the
little
villa
.
Tile
chipped
up
some
twenty
feet
behind
him
,
exploded
.
He
broke
into
a
trot
,
moved
behind
a
series
of
small
bluffs
,
turned
,
and
with
his
first
shot
dropped
one
of
the
men
dead
in
his
tracks
.
They
would
form
a
net
,
a
circle
;
Spender
knew
that
.
They
would
go
around
and
close
in
and
they
would
get
him
.
It
was
a
strange
thing
that
the
grenades
were
not
used
.
Captain
Wilder
could
easily
order
the
grenades
tossed
.
But
I
’
m
much
too
nice
to
be
blown
to
bits
,
thought
Spender
.
That
’
s
what
the
captain
thinks
.
He
wants
me
with
only
one
hole
in
me
.
Isn
’
t
that
odd
?
He
wants
my
death
to
be
clean
.
Nothing
messy
.
Why
?
Because
he
understands
me
.
And
because
he
understands
,
he
’
s
willing
to
risk
good
men
to
give
me
a
clean
shot
in
the
head
.
Isn
’
t
that
it
?
