Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 21 — Mr. Bedford at Littlestone
“Nothingtobeseenthere,”criedthelittleman,rushingforthedoor.
“It’sthatboy!”Icried,bawlinginhoarsefury;“it’sthataccursedboy!”andturningaboutIpushedthewaiteraside—hewasjustbringingmesomemoretoast—andrushedviolentlyoutoftheroomanddownandoutuponthequeerlittleesplanadeinfrontofthehotel.
Thesea,whichhadbeensmooth,wasroughnowwithhurryingcat’s-paws,andallaboutwherethespherehadbeenwastumbledwaterlikethewakeofaship.Above,alittlepuffofcloudwhirledlikedispersingsmoke,andthethreeorfourpeopleonthebeachwerestaringupwithinterrogativefacestowardsthepointofthatunexpectedreport.Andthatwasall!Bootsandwaiterandthefouryoungmeninblazerscamerushingoutbehindme.Shoutscamefromwindowsanddoors,andallsortsofworryingpeoplecameintosight—agape.
ForatimeIstoodthere,toooverwhelmedbythisnewdevelopmenttothinkofthepeople.
AtfirstIwastoostunnedtoseethethingasanydefinitedisaster—Iwasjuststunned,asamanisbysomeaccidentalviolentblow.Itisonlyafterwardshebeginstoappreciatehisspecificinjury.
“GoodLord!”
Ifeltasthoughsomebodywaspouringfunkoutofacandownthebackofmyneck.Mylegsbecamefeeble.Ihadgotthefirstintimationofwhatthedisastermeantforme.Therewasthatconfoundedboy—skyhigh!Iwasutterlyleft.Therewasthegoldinthecoffee-room—myonlypossessiononearth.Howwoulditallworkout?Thegeneraleffectwasofagiganticunmanageableconfusion.
