-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 301/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
She
sits
in
her
saddle
as
firmly
as
the
skin
that
covers
it
.
It
is
a
spirited
horse
,
and
has
the
habit
of
showing
it
by
his
prancing
paces
.
But
you
have
no
fear
for
the
rider
:
you
are
satisfied
of
her
power
to
control
him
.
A
light
lazo
,
suited
to
her
strength
,
is
suspended
from
the
saddle-bow
.
Its
careful
coiling
shows
that
it
is
never
neglected
.
This
almost
assures
you
,
that
she
understands
how
to
use
it
.
She
does
--
can
throw
it
,
with
the
skill
of
a
mustanger
.
The
accomplishment
is
one
of
her
conceits
;
a
part
of
the
idiosyncrasy
already
acknowledged
.
She
is
riding
along
a
road
--
not
the
public
one
that
follows
the
direction
of
the
river
.
It
is
a
private
way
leading
from
the
hacienda
of
her
uncle
,
running
into
the
former
near
the
summit
of
a
hill
--
the
hill
itself
being
only
the
bluff
that
abuts
upon
the
bottom
lands
of
the
Leona
.
She
ascends
the
sloping
path
--
steep
enough
to
try
the
breathing
of
her
steed
.
She
reaches
the
crest
of
the
ridge
,
along
which
trends
the
road
belonging
to
everybody
.
She
reins
up
;
though
not
to
give
her
horse
an
opportunity
of
resting
.
She
has
halted
,
because
of
having
reached
the
point
where
her
excursion
is
to
terminate
.
There
is
an
opening
on
one
side
of
the
road
,
of
circular
shape
,
and
having
a
superficies
of
some
two
or
three
acres
.
It
is
grass-covered
and
treeless
--
a
prairie
in
petto
.
It
is
surrounded
by
the
chapparal
forest
--
very
different
from
the
bottom
timber
out
of
which
she
has
just
emerged
.
On
all
sides
is
the
enclosing
thicket
of
spinous
plants
,
broken
only
by
the
embouchures
of
three
paths
,
their
triple
openings
scarce
perceptible
from
the
middle
of
the
glade
.
Near
its
centre
she
has
pulled
up
,
patting
her
horse
upon
the
neck
to
keep
him
quiet
.
It
is
not
much
needed
.
The
scaling
of
the
"
cuesta
"
has
done
that
for
him
.
He
has
no
inclination
either
to
go
on
,
or
tramp
impatiently
in
his
place
.
"
I
am
before
the
hour
of
appointment
,
"
mutters
she
,
drawing
a
gold
watch
from
under
her
serapé
,
"
if
,
indeed
,
I
should
expect
him
at
all
.
He
may
not
come
?
God
grant
that
he
be
able
!
