Возвращение на родину

VIII. Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody

           

           Themantookapieceofragfromasatchelcontainingsewingmaterials,toreoffastrip,which,likeeverythingelse,wastingedred,andproceededtobindupthewound.

           “Myeyeshavegotfoggy-like—pleasemayIsitdown,master?”saidtheboy.

           “Tobesure,poorchap.’Tisenoughtomakeyoufeelfainty.Sitonthatbundle.”

           Themanfinishedtyingupthegash,andtheboysaid,“IthinkI’llgohomenow,master.”

           “Youareratherafraidofme.DoyouknowwhatIbe?”

           Thechildsurveyedhisvermilionfigureupanddownwithmuchmisgivingandfinallysaid,“Yes.”

           “Well,what?”

           “Thereddleman!”hefaltered.

           “Yes,that’swhatIbe.Thoughthere’smorethanone.Youlittlechildrenthinkthere’sonlyonecuckoo,onefox,onegiant,onedevil,andonereddleman,whenthere’slotsofusall.”

           “Isthere?Youwon’tcarrymeoffinyourbags,willye,master?’Tissaidthatthereddlemanwillsometimes.”

           “Nonsense.Allthatreddlemendoissellreddle.Youseeallthesebagsatthebackofmycart?Theyarenotfulloflittleboys—onlyfullofredstuff.”

           “Wasyoubornareddleman?”

           “No,Itooktoit.IshouldbeaswhiteasyouifIweretogiveupthetrade—thatis,Ishouldbewhiteintime—perhapssixmonths;notatfirst,because’tisgrow’dintomyskinandwon’twashout.Now,you’llneverbeafraidofareddlemanagain,willye?”

           “No,never.WillyOrchardsaidheseedaredghostheret’otherday—perhapsthatwasyou?”

           “Iwasheret’otherday.

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