"The Hunters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

The lecture hall resounded with giggles. And beneath the giggles was a steady
undercurrent of whispers, of girlish confidences exchanged, of girlish hopes
that would now be fulfilled. Miss Burton's class was not the only one which had
come to hear the famous actor-hunter describe his brave exploits. There were at
least five others like it, and by some mistake, a class of boys, who also
whispered to each other, in manly superiority, and pretended to find amusement
in the presence of so many of the fairer sex.
In this atmosphere of giggles and whispers, Manto and Palit could exchange
confidences without being noticed. Palit said savagely, "Why did you tell her
that I could act too?"
"Why, because it's the truth. You're a very good animal performer. You make a
wonderful dragon, for instance. Go on, Palit, show her what a fine dragon you
canЧ"
"Stop it, you fool, before you cause trouble!"
"Very well, Palit. Did I tempt you?"
"Did you tempt me! You and your sense of humor!"
"You and your lack of it! But let's not argue now, Palit. Here, I think, comes
the lion-hunter. Let's scream, and be as properly excited as every one else is."
My God, he thought, how can they keep their voices so high so long? My eardrums
hurt already. How do they stand a lifetime of it? Even an hour?
"Go ahead," whispered Carol. "You've seen the scriptЧgo into your act. Tell them
what a hero you are. You have the odds in your favor to start with."
"My lovely looks," he said, with some bitterness.
"Lovely is the word for you. But forget that. If you're goodЧyou'll get a drink
afterwards."
"Will it be one of those occasions when you love me?"
"If the moon turns blue."
He strode to the front of the platform, an elephant gun swinging easily at his
side, an easy grin radiating from his confident, rugged face. The cheers rose to
a shrill fortissimo, but the grin did not vanish. What a great actor he really
was, he told himself, to be able to pretend he liked this.
An assistant curator of some collection in the zoo, a flustered old woman, was
introducing him. There were a few laudatory references to his great talents as
an actor, and he managed to look properly modest as he listened. The remarks
about his knowledge of wild and ferocious beasts were a little harder to take,
but he took them. Then the old woman stepped back, and he was facing his fate
alone.
"Children," he began. A pause, a bashful grin. "Perhaps I should rather say, my
friends. I'm not one to think of you as children. Some people think of me as a
child myself, because I like to hunt, and have adventures. They think that such
things are childish. But if they are, I'm glad to be a child. I'm glad to be one
of you. Yes, I think I will call you my friends.
"Perhaps you regard me, my friends, as a very lucky person. But when I recall
some of the narrow escapes I have had, I don't agree with you. I remember once,
when we were on the trail of a rogue elephantЧ"
He told the story of the rogue elephant, modestly granting a co-hero's role to
his guide. Then another story illustrating the strange ways of lions. The
elephant gun figured in still another tale, this time of a vicious rhinoceros.
His audience was quiet now, breathless with interest, and he welcomed the
respite from shrillness he had won for his ears.