Загублений світ
It was Dreadful in the Forest
Ahugedeer,withbranchinghorns,amagnificentcreaturewhichcarrieditselflikeaking,camedownwithitsdoeandtwofawnsanddrankbesidethearmadillos.Nosuchdeerexistanywhereelseuponearth,forthemooseorelkswhichIhaveseenwouldhardlyhavereacheditsshoulders.Presentlyitgaveawarningsnort,andwasoffwithitsfamilyamongthereeds,whilethearmadillosalsoscuttledforshelter.Anew-comer,amostmonstrousanimal,wascomingdownthepath.
ForamomentIwonderedwhereIcouldhaveseenthatungainlyshape,thatarchedbackwithtriangularfringesalongit,thatstrangebird-likeheadheldclosetotheground.Thenitcameback,tome.Itwasthestegosaurus—theverycreaturewhichMapleWhitehadpreservedinhissketch-book,andwhichhadbeenthefirstobjectwhicharrestedtheattentionofChallenger!Therehewas—perhapstheveryspecimenwhichtheAmericanartisthadencountered.Thegroundshookbeneathhistremendousweight,andhisgulpingsofwaterresoundedthroughthestillnight.ForfiveminuteshewassoclosetomyrockthatbystretchingoutmyhandIcouldhavetouchedthehideouswavinghacklesuponhisback.Thenhelumberedawayandwaslostamongtheboulders.
Lookingatmywatch,Isawthatitwashalf-pasttwoo’clock,andhightime,therefore,thatIstarteduponmyhomewardjourney.
