Чорний красень

12 A Stormy Day

           

           Thewordswerescarcelyoutofhismouthwhentherewasagroan,andacrack,andasplittingsound,andtearing,crashingdownamongtheothertreescameanoak,tornupbytheroots,anditfellrightacrosstheroadjustbeforeus.IwillneversayIwasnotfrightened,forIwas.Istoppedstill,andIbelieveItrembled;ofcourseIdidnotturnroundorrunaway;Iwasnotbroughtuptothat.Johnjumpedoutandwasinamomentatmyhead.

           “Thatwasaveryneartouch,”saidmymaster.“What’stobedonenow?”

           “Well,sir,wecan’tdriveoverthattree,noryetgetroundit;therewillbenothingforit,buttogobacktothefourcrossways,andthatwillbeagoodsixmilesbeforewegetroundtothewoodenbridgeagain;itwillmakeuslate,butthehorseisfresh.”

           Sobackwewentandroundbythecrossroads,butbythetimewegottothebridgeitwasverynearlydark;wecouldjustseethatthewaterwasoverthemiddleofit;butasthathappenedsometimeswhenthefloodswereout,masterdidnotstop.Weweregoingalongatagoodpace,butthemomentmyfeettouchedthefirstpartofthebridgeIfeltsuretherewassomethingwrong.Idarenotgoforward,andImadeadeadstop.“Goon,Beauty,”saidmymaster,andhegavemeatouchwiththewhip,butIdarenotstir;hegavemeasharpcut;Ijumped,butIdarenotgoforward.

           “There’ssomethingwrong,sir,”saidJohn,andhesprangoutofthedog-cartandcametomyheadandlookedallabout.Hetriedtoleadmeforward.

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