Вершник без голови

Chapter 7

           Thehunterhadalreadytetheredouthis"olemaar"ashedesignatedthesorryspecimenofhorsefleshhewasoccasionallyaccustomedtobestrideandhadbroughtbackwithhimanoldyellowishblanket,whichwasallheeverusedforabed.

           "Youmaytakemybedstead,"saidhiscourteoushost;"Icanlaymyselfonaskinalongthefloor."

           "No,"respondedtheguest;"noneo’yershelvesforZebStumptosleepon.Ipreferthesolidgroun’.Ikinsleepsounderonit;anbus-sides,thur’snofearo’fallin’over."

           "Ifyoupreferit,then,takethefloor.Here’sthebestplace.I’llspreadahideforyou."

           "Youngfellur,don’tyoudoanythin’o’thesort;ye’llonlybewastin’yurtime.Thischilddon’tsleeponnofloors.Hisbedairthegreengrasso’thepurayra."

           "What!you’renotgoingtosleepoutside?"inquiredthemustangerinsomesurpriseseeingthathisguest,withtheoldblanketoverhisarm,wasmakingforthedoor.

           "Iain’tagoin’todoanythin’else."

           "Why,thenightisfreezingcoldalmostaschillyasanorther!"

           "Durnthat!Itairbettertostan’aleetlechillishness,thanafeelin’o’suffercationwhichlastIwudsartintlyhevtogothroughefIslepinsideo’ahouse."

           "Surelyyouarejesting,MrStump?"

           "Youngfellur!"emphaticallyrejoinedthehunter,withoutmakingdirectreplytothequestion."Itairnownighallo’sixyeersinceZebStumphevstretchedhisolekarkissunderaroof.

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