"Dalmas,.John.-.Lion.Of.Farside.2.-.Bavarian.Gate.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

"My brother and me log sometimes for the Severtson brothers. Swedes. They like
us because we turn out lots of logs. They're pretty good to work for; don't
cheat anyone, not even Indians. And they feed good. Maybe they'll hire you."
"Thanks. It should be easier where I know someone." That was the end of their
conversation for a while. They watched the fire die down again, then went back
to where they'd bedded before. "You want to use my blanket?" Macurdy murmured.
"Your blanket? What will you use?"
"That's something else I learned from Arbel: how to keep myself warm."
Roy considered that remarkable statement for a minute, then nodded. "Thanks. I
could use another blanket." He got up and laid the blankets on top of each
other, then rolled up loosely in them. "When we get where I live," he said, "you
can stay with my family as long as you want."
No more was said, and after a while, Roy's aura told Macurdy the Indian was
asleep. In no hurry to sleep himself, Macurdy lay awake with his thoughts. At
first they were of his ex-wives, Varia and Melody, but after a bit shifted to a
giant wild boar named Vulkan, a four-legged sorcerer large enough that Macurdy
could ride on its bristly shoulders.
Strange thoughts that soon blurred into stranger dreams.
3
Discovering Oregon
Near dawn, Roy shook Macurdy awake. "It's time to go," he said quietly, "before
it starts to get daylight."
For a moment Macurdy lay there, his dream receding like a wave from a beach,
leaving a brief wash of images and impressions. The principal image was of
Vulkan, who in the dream had called himself a bodhi sattva. Macurdy had no idea
what a bodhi sattva was.
Silently he rolled to hands and knees, got to his feet and looked around. A half
moon had risen about midnight and begun its trip across the sky. Roy was rolling
his bindle, and Macurdy rolled his. Then, bindles slung on shoulders, they
entered the railyard, keeping to the shadows of freight cars. They could hear
the chuffing of a yard engine, the clash of couplings in long chain reactions as
a train was assembled. In the night it sounded spooky. The yard seemed a maze of
tracks, and to move through it inconspicuously required crossing some of them.
Often this meant climbing between cars, and a string of them could jerk into
deadly motion without warning.
Others from the jungle had preceded the two, and at the far end, Roy and Macurdy
waited with three of them in the shadow of a hopper car, watching the main line.
Finally a tandem of line engines rolled slowly past, followed by freight cars
gradually picking up speed. The men moved out of the shadows, trotting
alongside. An empty boxcar pulled even with Roy, and grasping the edge of the
open door, the burly Indian pulled himself in, then rolled to hands and knees
and helped Macurdy. A moment later they stood in shadowed darkness, their legs
braced against the swaying. Macurdy sniffed a familiar aroma. Alfalfa. This car
had hauled baled hay recently.
Dawn also traveled west, and soon overtook them. Roy had blocked the door open
with a length of dunnage stashed in the car, and part of the time they stood
watching the countryside roll by. And feeling their stomachs grumble, for they
had eaten only twice in two days. From time to time they drank, barely, from
their canteens, swallowing a short mouthful only after swishing it around for a
few seconds.