-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 257/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
passed
the
depending
pods
,
without
plucking
them
.
He
passed
the
succulent
stalks
,
without
tapping
thorn
.
To
augment
his
anguish
,
he
now
discovered
that
the
wounded
limb
was
,
every
moment
,
becoming
more
unmanageable
.
It
had
swollen
to
enormous
dimensions
.
Every
step
caused
him
a
spasm
of
pain
.
Even
if
going
in
the
direction
of
the
doubtful
streamlet
,
he
might
never
succeed
in
reaching
it
?
If
not
,
there
was
no
hope
for
him
.
He
could
but
lie
down
in
the
thicket
,
and
die
!
Death
would
not
be
immediate
.
Although
suffering
acute
pain
in
his
head
,
neither
the
shock
it
had
received
,
nor
the
damage
done
to
his
knee
,
were
like
to
prove
speedily
fatal
.
He
might
dread
a
more
painful
way
of
dying
than
from
wounds
.
Thirst
would
be
his
destroyer
--
of
all
shapes
of
death
perhaps
the
most
agonising
.
The
thought
stimulated
him
to
renewed
efforts
;
and
despite
the
slow
progress
he
was
able
to
make
--
despite
the
pain
experienced
in
making
it
--
he
toiled
on
.
The
black
birds
hovering
above
,
kept
pace
with
his
halting
step
and
laborious
crawl
.
Now
more
than
a
mile
from
the
point
of
their
first
segregation
,
they
were
all
of
them
still
there
--
their
numbers
even
augmented
by
fresh
detachments
that
had
become
warned
of
the
expected
prey
.
Though
aware
that
the
quarry
still
lived
and
moved
,
they
saw
that
it
was
stricken
.
Instinct
--
perhaps
rather
experience
--
told
them
it
must
soon
succumb
.
Their
shadows
crossed
and
recrossed
the
track
upon
which
he
advanced
--
filling
him
with
ominous
fears
for
the
end
.
There
was
no
noise
:
for
these
birds
are
silent
in
their
flight
--
even
when
excited
by
the
prospect
of
a
repast
.
The
hot
sun
had
stilled
the
voices
of
the
crickets
and
tree-toads
.
Even
the
hideous
"
horned
frog
"
reclined
listless
along
the
earth
,
sheltering
its
tuberculated
body
under
the
stones
.
The
only
sounds
to
disturb
the
solitude
of
the
chapparal
were
those
made
by
the
sufferer
himself
--
the
swishing
of
his
garments
,
as
they
brushed
against
the
hirsute
plants
that
beset
the
path
;
and
occasionally
his
cries
,
sent
forth
in
the
faint
hope
of
their
being
heard
.
By
this
time
,
blood
was
mingling
with
the
sweat
upon
his
skin
.
The
spines
of
the
cactus
,
and
the
clawlike
thorns
of
the
agave
,
had
been
doing
their
work
;
and
scarce
an
inch
of
the
epidermis
upon
his
face
,
hands
,
and
limbs
,
that
was
not
rent
with
a
laceration
.