"Doyle, Arthur Conan - Hound Of The Baskervilles, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Arthur Conan)

The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly
abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have
taken if she were to reach her own home.

"They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the
night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him
to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story
goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak,
but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy
maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen
more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me
upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a
hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.'
So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onwards.
But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping
across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white
froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle.
Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was
on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each,
had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned
his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came
at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their
valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the
head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor,
some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and
staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.

"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may
guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no
means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be
the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it
opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great
stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain
forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining
bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the
unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of
fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was
it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her,
which raised the hair upon the heads of these three
dare-devil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo,
and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a
great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any
hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as
they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo
Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and
dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and
rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor.
One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen,
and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of
their days.