Міжзірковий мандрівник
Chapter 13
Allhepossessedwashishorse,hisrifle,theclotheshestoodupin,andacoupleofblanketsthatwerehauledintheMasonwagon.
Nextmorningitwasthatourdoomfell.Twodays’journeybeyondthelastMormonoutpost,knowingthatnoIndianswereaboutandapprehendingnothingfromtheIndiansonanycount,forthefirsttimewehadnotchainedourwagonsinthesolidcircle,placedguardsonthecattle,norsetanight-watch.
Myawakeningwaslikeanightmare.Itcameasasuddenblastofsound.Iwasonlystupidlyawakeforthefirstmomentsanddidnothingexcepttotrytoanalyzeandidentifythevariousnoisesthatwenttocomposetheblastthatcontinuedwithoutletup.Icouldhearnearanddistantexplosionsofrifles,shoutsandcursesofmen,womenscreaming,andchildrenbawling.ThenIcouldmakeoutthethudsandsquealsofbulletsthathitwoodandironinthewheelsandunder-constructionofthewagon.Whoeveritwasthatwasshooting,theaimwastoolow.WhenIstartedtorise,mymother,evidentlyjustintheactofdressing,pressedmedownwithherhand.Father,alreadyupandabout,atthisstageeruptedintothewagon.
“Outofit!”heshouted.“Quick!Totheground!”
Hewastednotime.Withahook-likeclutchthatwasalmostablow,soswiftwasit,heflungmebodilyoutoftherearendofthewagon.
