"Aldiss, Brian - Saliva Tree, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

felt the prickle of unease along his spine. But the farmer said
stoutly, "Nonsense, it's a bit of cowslime. Now you get on with
the milking, Bert, and let's have no more hossing about, because
I want my tea. Where's Cuff?"
Bert looked defiant.
"If you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe the bitch. She
saw whatever it was and went for it. It kicked her over, but she
ran it out of here."
"I'll see if I can see her," Gregory said.
He ran outside and began calling the bitch. By now it was
almost entirely dark. He could see nothing moving in the wide
space of the front yard, and so set off in the other direction,
down the path towards the pig sties and the fields, calling Cuff
as he went. He paused. Low and savage growls sounded ahead,
under the elm trees. It was Cuff. He went slowly forward. At
this moment, he cursed that electric light meant lack of
lanterns, and wished too that he had a weapon.
"Who's there?" he called.
The farmer came up by his side. "Let's charge 'em!"
They ran forward. The trunks of the four great elms were
clear against the western sky, with water glinting leadenly be-
hind them. The dog became visible. As Gregory saw Cuff, she
sailed into the air, whirled round, and flew at the farmer. He
flung up his arms and warded off the body. At the same time,
Gregory felt a rush of air as if someone unseen had run past
him, and a stale muddy smell filled his nostrils. Staggering, he
looked behind him. The wan light from the cowsheds spread
across the path between the outhouses and the farmhouse.
Beyond the light, more distantly, was the silent countryside
behind the grain store. Nothing untoward could be seen.
"They killed my old Cuff," said the farmer.
Gregory knelt down beside him to look at the bitch. There
was no mark of injury on her, but she was dead, her fine head
lying limp.
"She knew there was something there," Gregory said. "She
went to attack whatever it was and it got her first. What was it?
Whatever in the world was it?"
"They killed my old Cuff," said the farmer again, unhearing.
He picked the body up in his arms, turned, and carried it
towards the house. Gregory stood where he was, mind and
heart equally uneasy.
He jumped violently when a step sounded nearby. It was
Bert Neckland.
"What, did that there ghost kill the old bitch?" he asked.
"It killed the bitch certainly, but it was something more
terrible than a ghost."
"That's one of them ghosts, bor. I seen plenty in my time. I
ent afraid of ghosts, are you?"
"You looked fairly sick in the cowshed a minute ago."
The farmhand put his fists on his hips. He was no more than