Лорд Джим

Chapter 20

           TheygotmypoorMohammedtosendformeandthenlaidthatambush.Iseeitallinaminute,andIthink—Thiswantsalittlemanagement.Myponysnort,jump,andstand,andIfallslowlyforwardwithmyheadonhismane.Hebeginstowalk,andwithoneeyeIcouldseeoverhisneckafaintcloudofsmokehanginginfrontofaclumpofbamboostomyleft.Ithink—Aha!myfriends,whyyounotwaitlongenoughbeforeyoushoot?Thisisnotyetgelungen.Ohno!Igetholdofmyrevolverwithmyrighthand—quiet—quiet.Afterall,therewereonlysevenoftheserascals.Theygetupfromthegrassandstartrunningwiththeirsarongstuckedup,wavingspearsabovetheirheads,andyellingtoeachothertolookoutandcatchthehorse,becauseIwasdead.Iletthemcomeascloseasthedoorhere,andthenbang,bang,bang—takeaimeachtimetoo.OnemoreshotIfireataman’sback,butImiss.Toofaralready.AndthenIsitaloneonmyhorsewiththecleanearthsmilingatme,andtherearethebodiesofthreemenlyingontheground.Onewascurleduplikeadog,anotheronhisbackhadanarmoverhiseyesasiftokeepoffthesun,andthethirdmanhedrawsuphislegveryslowlyandmakesitwithonekickstraightagain.Iwatchhimverycarefullyfrommyhorse,butthereisnomore—bleibtganzruhig—keepstill,so.AndasIlookedathisfaceforsomesignoflifeIobservedsomethinglikeafaintshadowpassoverhisforehead.Itwastheshadowofthisbutterfly.Lookattheformofthewing.Thisspeciesflyhighwithastrongflight.

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