Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VI
ThefestoonsofJapaneselanternsinandaroundthebarnwerenotyetlighted,butsomehalf-dozenlamps,withgreat,tinreflectors,thathungagainstthewalls,wereburninglow.Adullhalflightpervadedthevastinterior,hollow,echoing,leavingthecornersandroofthickwithimpenetrableblackshadows.Thebarnfacedthewestandthroughtheopenslidingdoorswasstreamingasinglebrightbarfromtheafter-glow,incongruousandoutofallharmonywiththedullflareofthekerosenelamps.
AsAnnixterglancedabouthim,hesawafigurestepbrisklyoutoftheshadowsofonecornerofthebuilding,pauseforthefractionofoneinstantinthebaroflight,then,atsightofhim,dartbackagain.Therewasasoundofhurriedfootsteps.
Annixter,withrecollectionsofthestolenbuckskininhismind,criedoutsharply:
“Who’sthere?”
Therewasnoanswer.Inasecondhispistolwasinhishand.
“Who’sthere?Quick,speakuporI’llshoot.”
“No,no,no,don’tshoot,”criedanansweringvoice.“Oh,becareful.It’sI—HilmaTree.”
Annixterslidthepistolintohispocketwithagreatqualmofapprehension.HecameforwardandmetHilmainthedoorway.
“GoodLord,”hemurmured,“thatsuredidgivemeastart.IfIHADshot——”
Hilmastoodabashedandconfusedbeforehim.Shewasdressedinawhiteorgandiefrockofthemostrigoroussimplicityandworeneitherflowernorornament.Theseverityofherdressmadeherlookevenlargerthanusual,andevenasitwashereyeswereonalevelwithAnnixter’s.
