Собака Баскервиллей

           Thecoachman,ahard-faced,gnarledlittlefellow,salutedSirHenryBaskerville,andinafewminuteswewereflyingswiftlydownthebroad,whiteroad. Rollingpasturelandscurvedupwardoneithersideofus,andoldgabledhousespeepedoutfromamidthethickgreenfoliage, butbehindthepeacefulandsunlitcountry-sidethereroseever,darkagainsttheeveningsky, thelong,gloomycurveofthemoor,brokenbythejaggedandsinisterhills. 

           Thewagonetteswungroundintoasideroad,andwecurvedupwardthroughdeeplaneswornbycenturiesofwheels,highbanksoneitherside,heavywithdrippingmossandfleshyhart’s-tongueferns. Bronzingbrackenandmottledbramblegleamedinthelightofthesinkingsun. Stillsteadilyrising,wepassedoveranarrowgranitebridge,andskirtedanoisystreamwhichgushedswiftlydown,foamingandroaringamidthegrayboulders. Bothroadandstreamwoundupthroughavalleydensewithscruboakandfir. AteveryturnBaskervillegaveanexclamationofdelight,lookingeagerlyabouthimandaskingcountlessquestions. Tohiseyesallseemedbeautiful,buttomeatingeofmelancholylayuponthecountry-side,whichboresoclearlythemarkofthewaningyear. Yellowleavescarpetedthelanesandfluttereddownuponusaswepassed. Therattleofourwheelsdiedawayaswedrovethroughdriftsofrottingvegetation —sadgifts,asitseemedtome,forNaturetothrowbeforethecarriageofthereturningheiroftheBaskervilles. 

           "Halloa! "criedDr.Mortimer,"whatisthis?" 

           Asteepcurveofheath-cladland,anoutlyingspurofthemoor,layinfrontofus. Onthesummit,hardandclearlikeanequestrianstatueuponitspedestal,wasamountedsoldier,darkandstern,hisriflepoisedreadyoverhisforearm. Hewaswatchingtheroadalongwhichwetravelled. 

           "Whatisthis,Perkins? "askedDr.Mortimer.