"A. E. Merritt - Dwellers in the mirage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merritt A. E)

"Leif," he asked suddenly, "what did you do with the ring?"

I drew out the little buckskin pouch, opened it and handed the ring to
him. He examined it closely, returned it to me.

"Why did you keep it, Leif?"

"I'don't know." I slipped the ring over my thumb. "I Didn't give it
back to the old priest; he didn't ask for it. Oh, hell--I'll tell you
why I kept it--for the same reason Coleridge's Ancient Mariner had the
albatross tied round his neck. So I couldn't forget I'm a murderer."

I put the ring back in the buckskin bag, and dropped it down my neck.
Faintly from the north came a roll of drums. It did not seem to travel
with the wind this time. It seemed to travel underground, and died out
deep beneath us.

"Khalk'ru!" I said.

"Well. don't let's keep the old gentleman waiting," said Jim cheerfully.

He busied himself with the packs, whistling. Suddenly he turned to me.

"Listen, Leif. Barr's theories sound good to me. I'm not saying that if
I'd been in your place I would have accepted them. Maybe you're right.
But I'm with Barr--until events, if-when-and-how they occur, prove him
wrong."

"Fine!" I said heartily, and entirely without sarcasm.

"May your optimism endure until we get back to New York--if-when-and-how."

We shouldered the packs, and took up our rifles and started northward.

It was not hard going, but it was an almost constant climb. The country
sloped upward, sometimes at a breathtaking pitch. The forest,
unusually thick and high for the latitude, began to thin. It grew
steadily cooler. After we had covered about fifteen miles we entered a
region of sparse and stunted trees. Five miles ahead was a
thousand-feet-high range of bare rocks. Beyond this range was a jumble
of mountains four to five thousand feet higher, treeless, their peaks
covered with snow and ice, and cut by numerous ravines which stood out
glistening white like miniature glaciers. Between us and the nearer
range stretched a plain, all grown over with dwarfed thickets of wild
roses, blueberries and squawbemes, and dressed in the brilliant reds
and blues and greens of the brief Alaskan summer.


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