Тридцять дев’ять ступенів

           PleaseGodIhadsettheplaceonfire,forIcouldhearconfusedcriescomingfromtheotherside.

           ButIhadnotimetolinger,sincethismillwasobviouslyabadhiding-place.Anyonelookingformewouldnaturallyfollowthelade,andImadecertainthesearchwouldbeginassoonastheyfoundthatmybodywasnotinthestoreroom.FromanotherwindowIsawthatonthefarsideofthemillstoodanoldstonedovecot.IfIcouldgettherewithoutleavingtracksImightfindahiding-place,forIarguedthatmyenemies,iftheythoughtIcouldmove,wouldconcludeIhadmadeforopencountry,andwouldgoseekingmeonthemoor.

           Icrawleddownthebrokenladder,scatteringchaffbehindmetocovermyfootsteps.Ididthesameonthemillfloor,andonthethresholdwherethedoorhungonbrokenhinges.Peepingout,Isawthatbetweenmeandthedovecotwasapieceofbarecobbledground,wherenofootmarkswouldshow.Alsoitwasmercifullyhidbythemillbuildingsfromanyviewfromthehouse.Islippedacrossthespace,gottothebackofthedovecotandprospectedawayofascent.

           ThatwasoneofthehardestjobsIevertookon.Myshoulderandarmachedlikehell,andIwassosickandgiddythatIwasalwaysonthevergeoffalling.ButImanageditsomehow.Bytheuseofout-juttingstonesandgapsinthemasonryandatoughivyrootIgottothetopintheend.TherewasalittleparapetbehindwhichIfoundspacetoliedown.ThenIproceededtogooffintoanold-fashionedswoon.

           Iwokewithaburningheadandthesunglaringinmyface.