-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 504/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Hunker
down
!
"
he
cried
,
addressing
himself
to
his
dumb
companion
,
who
,
if
wanting
speech
,
proved
herself
perfect
in
understanding
.
"
Squat
,
ye
ole
critter
;
or
by
the
Eturnal
ye
'll
be
switched
off
into
hell
!
"
As
if
dreading
some
such
terrible
catastrophe
,
the
scraggy
quadruped
dropped
down
upon
her
fore
knees
;
and
then
,
lowering
her
hind
quarters
,
laid
herself
along
the
grass
,
as
though
thinking
her
day
's
work
done
--
she
was
free
to
indulge
in
a
fiesta
.
Scarce
had
Zeb
and
his
roadster
composed
themselves
their
new
position
,
when
the
Headless
Horseman
came
charging
up
.
He
was
going
at
full
speed
;
and
Zeb
was
but
too
well
pleased
to
perceive
that
he
was
likely
to
continue
it
.
It
was
sheer
chance
that
had
conducted
him
that
way
;
and
not
from
having
seen
either
the
hunter
or
his
sorry
steed
.
The
former
--
if
not
the
latter
--
was
satisfied
at
being
treated
in
that
cavalier
style
;
but
,
long
before
the
Headless
Horseman
had
passed
out
of
sight
,
Zeb
had
taken
his
dimensions
,
and
made
himself
acquainted
with
his
character
.
Though
he
might
be
a
mystery
to
all
the
world
beside
,
he
was
no
longer
so
to
Zebulon
Stump
.
As
the
horse
shot
past
in
fleet
career
,
the
skirt
of
the
serapé
,
flouted
up
by
the
wind
,
displayed
to
Stump
's
optics
a
form
well
known
to
him
--
in
a
dress
he
had
seen
before
It
was
a
blouse
of
blue
cottonade
,
box-plaited
over
the
breast
;
and
though
its
vivid
colour
was
dashed
with
spots
of
garish
red
,
the
hunter
was
able
to
recognise
it
.
He
was
not
so
sure
about
the
face
seen
low
down
upon
the
saddle
,
and
resting
against
the
rider
's
leg
.
