"Hemingway, Ernest - Green Hills of Africa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hemingway Ernest) 'He coughed once and went away,' I said. 'Hello, girl.'
She smiled. She was worried too. The two of them had been listening since daylight for a shot. Listening all the time, even when our guest had arrived; listening while writing letters, listening while reading, listening when Kandisky came back and talked. 'You did not shoot him?' 'No. Nor see him.' I saw that Pop was worried too, and a little nervous. There had evidently been considerable talking going on. 'Have a beer, Colonel,' he said to me. 'We spooked one,' I reported. 'No chance of a shot. There were plenty of tracks. Nothing more came. The wind was blowing around. Ask the boys about it.' 'As I was telling Colonel Phillips,' Kandisky began, shifting his leather-breeched behind and crossing one heavy-calved, well-haired, bare leg over the other, 'you must not stay here too long. You must realize the rains are coming. There is one stretch of twelve miles beyond here you can never get through if it rains. It is impossible.' 'So he's been telling me,' Pop said. 'I'm a Mister, by the way. We use these military titles as nicknames. No offence if you're a colonel yourself.' Then to me, 'Damn these salt-licks. If you'd leave them. alone you'd get one.' 'They ball it all up,' I agreed. 'You're so sure of a shot sooner or later on the lick.' 'Hunt the hills too.' Til hunt them, Pop.' it so seriously. It is nothing. In a year you kill twenty.' 'Best not say anything about that to the game department, though,' Pop said. 'You misunderstand,' Kandisky said. 'I mean in a year a man could. Of course no man would wish to.' 'Absolutely,' Pop said. 'If he lived in kudu country, he could. They're the commonest big antelope in this bush country. It's just that when you want to see them you don't.' 'I kill nothing, you understand,' Kandisky told us. 'Why are you not more interested in the natives?' 'We are,' my wife assured him. 'They are really interesting. Listen...' Kandisky said, and he spoke on to her. 'The hell of it is,' I said to Pop, 'when I'm in the hills I'm sure the bastards are down there on the salt. The cows are in the hills but I don't believe the bulls are with them now. Then you get there in the evening and there are the tracks. They {have} been on the lousy salt. I think they come any time.' 'Probably they do.' 'I'm sure we get different bulls there. They probably only come to the salt every couple of days. Some are certainly spooked because Karl shot that one. If he'd only killed it clean instead of following it through the whole damn countryside. Christ, if he'd only kill any damn thing clean. Other new ones will come in. All we have to do is to wait them out, though. Of course |
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