Загублений світ
I was the Flail of the Lord
Yousee,betweenyouan’meclose-tiled,IlookonthisSouthAmericanbusinessasamightyseriousthing,andifIhaveapalwithmeIwantamanIcanbankon.SoIsizedyoudown,andI’mboundtosaythatyoucamewelloutofit.Yousee,it’salluptoyouandme,forthisoldSummerleemanwillwantdry-nursin’fromthefirst.Bytheway,areyoubyanychancetheMalonewhoisexpectedtogethisRugbycapforIreland?"
"Areserve,perhaps."
"IthoughtIrememberedyourface.Why,IwastherewhenyougotthattryagainstRichmond—asfineaswervin’runasIsawthewholeseason.InevermissaRugbymatchifIcanhelpit,foritisthemanliestgamewehaveleft.Well,Ididn’taskyouinherejusttotalksport.We’vegottofixourbusiness.Herearethesailin’s,onthefirstpageoftheTimes.There’saBoothboatforParanextWednesdayweek,andiftheProfessorandyoucanworkit,Ithinkweshouldtakeit—what?Verygood,I’llfixitwithhim.Whataboutyouroutfit?"
"Mypaperwillseetothat."
"Canyoushoot?"
"AboutaverageTerritorialstandard."
"GoodLord!asbadasthat?It’sthelastthingyouyoungfellahsthinkoflearnin’.You’reallbeeswithoutstings,sofaraslookin’afterthehivegoes.You’lllooksilly,someo’thesedays,whensomeonecomesalongan’sneaksthehoney.Butyou’llneedtoholdyourgunstraightinSouthAmerica,for,unlessourfriendtheProfessorisamadmanoraliar,wemayseesomequeerthingsbeforewegetback.Whatgunhaveyou?"
