-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 333/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Pheelum
,
I
say
!
Pheelum
!
"
Still
no
reply
.
Although
the
last
summons
was
delivered
in
a
shout
loud
enough
to
have
been
heard
half
a
mile
off
,
there
was
no
sign
made
by
the
slumberer
to
show
that
he
even
heard
it
.
A
rude
shaking
administered
by
Zeb
had
no
better
effect
.
It
only
produced
a
grunt
,
immediately
succeeded
by
a
return
to
the
same
stentorous
respiration
.
"
If
'
twa
'n'
t
for
his
snorin
'
I
mout
b
'
lieve
him
to
be
dead
.
He
air
dead
drunk
,
an
no
mistake
;
intoxerkated
to
the
very
eends
o
'
his
toe-nails
.
Kickin
'
him
'
ud
be
no
use
.
Dog-goned
,
ef
I
do
n't
try
this
.
"
The
old
hunter
's
eye
,
as
he
spoke
,
was
resting
upon
a
pail
that
stood
in
a
corner
of
the
cabin
.
It
was
full
of
water
,
which
Phelim
,
for
some
purpose
,
had
fetched
from
the
creek
.
Unfortunately
for
himself
,
he
had
not
wasted
it
.
With
a
comical
expression
in
his
eye
,
Zeb
took
up
the
pail
;
and
swilled
the
whole
of
its
contents
right
down
upon
the
countenance
of
the
sleeper
.
It
had
the
effect
intended
.
If
not
quite
sobered
,
the
inebriate
was
thoroughly
awakened
;
and
the
string
of
terrified
ejaculations
that
came
from
his
lips
formed
a
contrasting
accompaniment
to
the
loud
cachinnations
of
the
hunter
.
It
was
some
time
before
sufficient
tranquillity
was
restored
,
to
admit
of
the
two
men
entering
upon
a
serious
conversation
.
Phelim
,
however
,
despite
his
chronic
inebriety
,
was
still
under
the
influence
of
his
late
fears
,
and
was
only
too
glad
to
see
Zeb
Stump
,
notwithstanding
the
unceremonious
manner
in
which
he
had
announced
himself
.
