Крамка старожитностей

Chapter 67

           Itwasabouteighto’clock;butthedeadofthedarkestnightwouldhavebeenasnoon-dayincomparisonwiththethickcloudwhichthenrestedupontheearth,andshroudedeverythingfromview.Hedartedforwardforafewpaces,asifintothemouthofsomedim,yawningcavern;then,thinkinghehadgonewrong,changedthedirectionofhissteps;thenstoodstill,notknowingwheretoturn.

           ‘Iftheywouldknockagain,’saidQuilp,tryingtopeerintothegloombywhichhewassurrounded,‘thesoundmightguideme!Come!Batterthegateoncemore!’

           Hestoodlisteningintently,butthenoisewasnotrenewed.Nothingwastobeheardinthatdesertedplace,but,atintervals,thedistantbarkingsofdogs.Thesoundwasfarawaynowinonequarter,nowansweredinanothernorwasitanyguide,foritoftencamefromshipboard,asheknew.

           ‘IfIcouldfindawallorfence,’saidthedwarf,stretchingouthisarms,andwalkingslowlyon,‘Ishouldknowwhichwaytoturn.Agood,black,devil’snightthis,tohavemydearfriendhere!IfIhadbutthatwish,itmight,foranythingIcared,neverbedayagain.’

           Asthewordpassedhislips,hestaggeredandfellandnextmomentwasfightingwiththecolddarkwater!

           Forallitsbubblingupandrushinginhisears,hecouldheartheknockingatthegateagaincouldhearashoutthatfolloweditcouldrecognisethevoice.

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