"TXT - Louis L'Amour - The Tall Stranger" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

manner, and before long they began to discuss his trail and its possibilities,
considering themselves fortunate to know of it first.
There was some talk of putting it to a vote, but it was morning before it came
to that. Until then Rock was silent. "You'd do better," he interposed suddenly,
"to stick to the regular trail."
Harper's head came up sharply and his eyes leveled at Bannon. "Have you ever
been over the trail I suggest, my friend?"
"Part way," Rock replied. "Only part of it."
"And was that part easy going for oxen and horses? Was there a good trail?
Grass? Water?"
"Yes, I reckon it has all that, but I still wouldn't advise it."
"You say it is a better trail but you wouldn't advise it." Harper glanced around
at the others, smiling tolerantly. "That doesn't make much sense, does it? I've
been over the entire trail and found it very good going. Moreover, I can give
you a map of the trail showing the water holes, everything. Of course, it's
nothing to me what route you take, but if you want to avoid IndiansЧ" He
shrugged.
"What about Buffalo Hide?"
Morton Harper's face tightened and his eyes strained to pry Rock Bannon's face
from the shadows in which he sat. "He's a Blackfoot. He ranges further north."
Harper's eyes shifted to Mulholland. "Who is this man? I'm surprised he should
ask about Buffalo Hide, as he isn't known to most white men, other than
renegades. I can't understand why he should try to persuade you to neglect an
easier route for a more dangerous one. Is he one of your regular train?"
Pike Purcell was abrupt. From the first day he had disliked and been suspicious
of Bannon. "No, he ain't none of our crowd, just a man who tied up with us back
yonder a ways. He ain't got no wagon, nothin' but the horse he's ridin'."
"I see." Morton Harper's face became grave with implied doubt. "No oflense,
friend, but would you mind telling me your name? I know most of the men along
this trail, and Colonel Warren was asking about some of them only tonight.
You'll admit it is safer to be careful, for there are so many renegades who work
with the Indians."
"My name's Rock Bannon."
Morton Harper's lips tightened and his eyes grew wary. For a moment he seemed
taken aback. Then, as he perceived where his own interests lay, his eyes lighted
with triumph.
"Ah? Bannon, eh? I've heard of you. Killed a man in Laramie a month or so back,
didn't you?"
"He drew on me."
Rock was acutely conscious of the sudden chill in the atmosphere, and he could
see Sharon's shocked gaze directed at him. The people of the wagon train were
fresh from the East. Only Cap had been as far west as the Platte before, and he
only once. They were peace-loving men, quiet, and asking no trouble.
Morton Harper was quick to sense his advantage. "Sorry to have brought it up,
Bannon," he said smoothly, "but when a man advises a wagon train against their
best interests, it is well to inquire the source of the advice."
Bannon got up. He was a tall man, lean-hipped and broad-shouldered, his
flat-brimmed hat shadowing his face, his eyes glowing with piercing light as he
spoke.
"I still say that route's a fool way to go. This ain't no country to go