Чорний красень

12 A Stormy Day

           “Comeon,Beauty,what’sthematter?”OfcourseIcouldnottellhim,butIknewverywellthatthebridgewasnotsafe.

           Justthenthemanatthetoll-gateontheothersideranoutofthehouse,tossingatorchaboutlikeonemad.

           “Hoy,hoy,hoy!halloo!stop!”hecried.

           “What’sthematter?”shoutedmymaster.

           “Thebridgeisbrokeninthemiddle,andpartofitiscarriedaway;ifyoucomeonyou’llbeintotheriver.”

           “ThankGod!”saidmymaster.“YouBeauty!”saidJohn,andtookthebridleandgentlyturnedmeroundtotheright-handroadbytheriverside.Thesunhadsetsometime;thewindseemedtohavelulledoffafterthatfuriousblastwhichtoreupthetree.Itgrewdarkeranddarker,stillerandstiller.Itrottedquietlyalong,thewheelshardlymakingasoundonthesoftroad.ForagoodwhileneithermasternorJohnspoke,andthenmasterbeganinaseriousvoice.Icouldnotunderstandmuchofwhattheysaid,butIfoundtheythought,ifIhadgoneonasthemasterwantedme,mostlikelythebridgewouldhavegivenwayunderus,andhorse,chaise,master,andmanwouldhavefallenintotheriver;andasthecurrentwasflowingverystrongly,andtherewasnolightandnohelpathand,itwasmorethanlikelyweshouldallhavebeendrowned.Mastersaid,Godhadgivenmenreason,bywhichtheycouldfindoutthingsforthemselves;buthehadgivenanimalsknowledgewhichdidnotdependonreason,andwhichwasmuchmorepromptandperfectinitsway,andbywhichtheyhadoftensavedthelivesofmen

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