П’ятнадцятирічний капітан

Harris

           

           Hewasavigorousman,fortyyearsoldatthemost,hiseyesbright,hishairandbeardgray,hisskinsunburntlikethatofanomadwhohasalwayslivedintheopenair,intheforest,orontheplain.Akindofblouseoftannedskinservedhimforaclosecoat,alargehatcoveredhishead,leatherbootscameupabovehisknees,andspurswithlargerowelssoundedfromtheirhighheels.

           WhatDickSandnoticedatfirstandwhichwasso,infactwasthathehadbeforehim,notoneofthoseIndians,habitualroversoverthepampas,butoneofthoseadventurersofforeignblood,oftennotverycommendable,whoarefrequentlymetwithinthosedistantcountries.

           Italsoseemed,byhisratherfamiliarattitude,bythereddishcolorofafewhairsofhisbeard,thatthisunknownmustbeofAnglo-Saxonorigin.Atallevents,hewasneitheranIndiannoraSpaniard.

           Andthatappearedcertain,wheninanswertoDickSand,whosaidtohiminEnglish,"Welcome!"herepliedinthesamelanguageandwithoutanyaccent.

           "Welcomeyourself,myyoungfriend,"saidtheunknown,advancingtowardthenovice,whosehandhepressed.

           Astotheblacks,hecontentedhimselfwithmakingagesturetothemwithoutspeakingtothem.

           "YouareEnglish?"heaskedthenovice.

           "Americans,"repliedDickSand.

           "FromtheSouth?"

           "FromtheNorth."

           Thisreplyseemedtopleasetheunknown,whoshookthenovice’shandmorevigorouslyandthistimeinveryaAmericanmanner.

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