"Andre Norton - Here Abide Monsters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

"Aren't we going to your camp?"
"Right ahead-" Stroud's deep voice reached them. "Mind this vine, enough to
trip a man up it is."
Nick had to mind the vine, a tough cover on the ground, with attention. It ca
ught at the bike, as well as at his feet, with such persistence one could alm
ost believe it a set trap. Twice he had to stop and untangle it, so that Stro
ud and Linda had disappeared and he had only the marks of their passing to gu
ide him on a trail that took them farther and farther from the site of the fi
re and then curved again toward the Run.
He came out at last in a clearing walled by what seemed a solid siding of t
hick brush. And there he found Stroud, Linda, and three others. Two were me
n, the third a woman. They had been facing Linda, but, as Nick pushed his w
ay through with a crackling of brush, they turned almost as one to stare at
him.
The men were in contrast to each other as well as to Stroud. One was elderly
, very tall and gaunt, his white hair in a fluff about his head as if it wer
e too fine to be controlled. He had a great forward hook of a nose that was
matched by the firmness of the jaw beneath. But his eyes, under the shadow o
f bushy brows, did not have the fierce hawk glare Nick expected. They were i
ntelligent and full of interest, but they also held an acceptance of others,
not the need for dominance that the rest of his face suggested.
He wore a dark gray suit, much the worse for hard usage, and a sweater unde
rneath its coat that did not come high enough to hide a clergyman's roundab
out collar. On his feet were rough hide moccasins, which were in strange co
ntrast to the rest of his clothing, shabby as that was.
The younger man was an inch or two taller than Nick and, like Stroud, he wa
s in uniform, but not that of a warden. His blue tunic was much worn, but t
here were wings on its breast, and he had pushed to the back of his blond h
ead a pilot's cap.
Their feminine companion was almost as tall as the pilot and she, too, was
in uniform, with badges Nick did not recognize on the shoulder. A helmet
like the Warden's crowned a mass of unruly dark hair. Her figure was almos
t as lean as that of the clergyman, and her face, weathered and brown, mad
e no pretense to good looks. Yet there was an air of competence and author
ity about her that was impressive.
"Americans," she commented. "Then," she spoke to the clergyman, "you were
entirely right in your surmise, Adrian. We did travel farther than we thou
ght in that cage."
The blond pilot also fingered a slingshot. "We'd better shove off." His eyes
had gone from Nick to the brush. He had the attitude of one listening. "No
use watching the trap any longer-"
"Barry is correct," the clergyman nodded. "We may not have had the kind of
success we hoped to obtain. But by attracting our young friends here we hav
e excellent results."
"Better introduce ourselves," the woman said briskly. "Adrian Hadlett, Vic
ar of Minton Parva." The clergyman gave an old-fashioned and rather majest
ic inclination of his head. "Pilot Officer Barry Crocker, and I'm Diana Ra
msay-"
"Lady Diana Ramsay," Stroud growled as if that was important.
She made an impatient gesture with one hand. The other, Nick noted, held a