Prev | Current Page 149 | Next

Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

'A propos, what have you for a
cargo? It must be precious.'
He found not a word to answer.
Rat-tat-tat, I went upon the door like a well-drilled footman.
'Any one at home?' I said, and stooped to listen.
There came out of the interior a stifled sneeze, the first of an
uncontrollable paroxysm; another followed immediately on the heels
of it; and then the driver turned with an oath, laid the lash upon
the horses with so much energy that they found their heels again,
and the whole equipage fled down the road at a gallop.
At the first sound of the sneeze, I had started back like a man
shot. The next moment, a great light broke on my mind, and I
understood. Here was the secret of Fenn's trade: this was how he
forwarded the escape of prisoners, hawking them by night about the
country in his covered cart. There had been Frenchmen close to me;
he who had just sneezed was my countryman, my comrade, perhaps
already my friend! I took to my heels in pursuit. 'Hold hard!' I
shouted. 'Stop! It's all right! Stop!' But the driver only
turned a white face on me for a moment, and redoubled his efforts,
bending forward, plying his whip and crying to his horses; these
lay themselves down to the gallop and beat the highway with flying
hoofs; and the cart bounded after them among the ruts and fled in a
halo of rain and spattering mud.


Pages:
137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161
brak hosta 906 system wymiany linkow 906 sprawdz strone