-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 289/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Of
course
to
Zeb
Stump
,
Louise
Poindexter
was
at
home
.
She
was
even
eager
for
the
interview
--
so
eager
,
as
to
have
kep
almost
a
continual
watch
along
the
river
road
,
all
the
day
before
,
from
the
rising
to
the
setting
of
the
sun
.
Her
vigil
,
resumed
on
the
departure
of
the
noisy
crowd
,
was
soon
after
rewarded
by
the
sight
of
the
hunter
,
mounted
on
his
old
mare
--
the
latter
laden
with
the
spoils
of
the
chase
--
slowly
moving
along
the
road
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
river
,
and
manifestly
making
for
the
hacienda
.
A
glad
sight
to
her
--
that
rude
,
but
grand
shape
of
colossal
manhood
.
She
recognised
in
it
the
form
of
a
true
friend
--
to
whose
keeping
she
could
safely
entrust
her
most
secret
confidence
.
And
she
had
now
such
a
secret
to
confide
to
him
;
that
for
a
night
and
a
day
had
been
painfully
pent
up
within
her
bosom
.
Long
before
Zeb
had
set
foot
upon
the
flagged
pavement
of
the
patio
,
she
had
gone
out
into
the
verandah
to
receive
him
.
The
air
of
smiling
nonchalance
with
which
he
approached
,
proclaimed
him
still
ignorant
of
the
event
which
had
cast
its
melancholy
shadow
over
the
house
.
There
was
just
perceptible
the
slightest
expression
of
surprise
,
at
finding
the
outer
gate
shut
,
chained
,
and
barred
.
It
had
not
been
the
custom
of
the
hacienda
--
at
least
during
its
present
proprietary
.
The
sombre
countenance
of
the
black
,
encountered
within
the
shadow
of
the
saguan
,
strengthened
Zeb
's
surprise
--
sufficiently
to
call
forth
an
inquiry
.
"
Why
,
Pluto
,
ole
fellur
!
whatsomdiver
air
the
matter
wi
'
ye
?
Yur
lookin
'
like
a
'
coon
wi
'
his
tail
chopped
off
--
clost
to
the
stump
at
thet
!
An
'
why
air
the
big
gate
shet
an
barred
--
in
the
middle
o
'
breakfist
time
?
I
hope
thur
hai
n't
nuthin
'
gone
astray
?
"
"
Ho
!
ho
!
Mass
'
Tump
,
dat
's
jess
what
dar
hab
goed
stray
--
dat
's
preecise
de
ting
,
dis
chile
sorry
t
'
say
--
berry
much
goed
stray
.
Ho
!
berry
,
berry
much
!
"
"
Heigh
!
"
exclaimed
the
hunter
,
startled
at
the
lugubrious
tone
.
"
Thur
air
sommeat
amiss
?
What
is
'
t
,
nigger
?
Tell
me
sharp
quick
.
It
ca
n't
be
no
wuss
than
yur
face
shows
it
.
Nothin
'
happened
to
yur
young
mistress
,
I
hope
?
Miss
Lewaze
--
"
