Загублений світ
For once I was the Hero
ThenLordJohnthrewabundleoftwigsuponthefire,andtheirredglarelituptheintentfacesofmycompanionsandflickeredoverthegreatboughsaboveourheads.
"Whatwasit?"Iwhispered.
"Weshallknowinthemorning,"saidLordJohn."Itwasclosetous—notfartherthantheglade."
"Wehavebeenprivilegedtooverhearaprehistorictragedy,thesortofdramawhichoccurredamongthereedsupontheborderofsomeJurassiclagoon,whenthegreaterdragonpinnedthelesseramongtheslime,"saidChallenger,withmoresolemnitythanIhadeverheardinhisvoice."Itwassurelywellformanthathecamelateintheorderofcreation.Therewerepowersabroadinearlierdayswhichnocourageandnomechanismofhiscouldhavemet.Whatcouldhissling,histhrowing-stick,orhisarrowavailhimagainstsuchforcesashavebeenlooseto-night?Evenwithamodernrifleitwouldbealloddsonthemonster."
"IthinkIshouldbackmylittlefriend,"saidLordJohn,caressinghisExpress."Butthebeastwouldcertainlyhaveagoodsportingchance."
Summerleeraisedhishand.
"Hush!"hecried."SurelyIhearsomething?"
Fromtheuttersilencethereemergedadeep,regularpat-pat.Itwasthetreadofsomeanimal—therhythmofsoftbutheavypadsplacedcautiouslyupontheground.Itstoleslowlyroundthecamp,andthenhaltednearourgateway.Therewasalow,sibilantriseandfall—thebreathingofthecreature.
