Діти залізниці
The hound in the red jersey.
"It’satrain,"saidBobbie.
"Whichline?"
"Letmegoback,"criedPhyllis,strugglingtogetawayfromthehandbywhichBobbieheldher.
"Don’tbeacoward,"saidBobbie;"it’squitesafe.Standback."
"Comeon,"shoutedPeter,whowasafewyardsahead."Quick!Manhole!"
Theroaroftheadvancingtrainwasnowlouderthanthenoiseyouhearwhenyourheadisunderwaterinthebathandbothtapsarerunning,andyouarekickingwithyourheelsagainstthebath’stinsides.ButPeterhadshoutedforallhewasworth,andBobbieheardhim.ShedraggedPhyllisalongtothemanhole.Phyllis,ofcourse,stumbledoverthewiresandgrazedbothherlegs.Buttheydraggedherin,andallthreestoodinthedark,damp,archedrecesswhilethetrainroaredlouderandlouder.Itseemedasifitwoulddeafenthem.And,inthedistance,theycouldseeitseyesoffiregrowingbiggerandbrightereveryinstant.
"ItISadragon—Ialwaysknewitwas—ittakesitsownshapeinhere,inthedark,"shoutedPhyllis.Butnobodyheardher.Youseethetrainwasshouting,too,anditsvoicewasbiggerthanhers.
Andnow,witharushandaroarandarattleandalongdazzlingflashoflightedcarriagewindows,asmellofsmoke,andblastofhotair,thetrainhurtledby,clangingandjanglingandechoinginthevaultedroofofthetunnel.PhyllisandBobbieclungtoeachother.
