"Stanley G. Weinbaum - Margaret Of Urbs 01 - The Black Flame" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinbaum Stanley G)

"None the less, Vail, it must be two bullets for the Master and only the captive's chains for Princess
Mar-garet, at least so far as Hull Tarvish is concerned. But wouldn't it please you fully as well to watch
her draw water from your pump, or shine pots in your kitchen?" He was jollying her, trying to paint
fanciful pictures to lift her spirit from the somber depths.

But she read it otherwise. "Yes!" she blazed. "Oh, yes, Hull, that's better. If I could ever hope to see
thatтАФтАФтАФ" She rose suddenly, and he followed her to the gate. "You must go," she murmured, "but
before you leave, you canтАФif you wish it, HullтАФkiss me."

Of a sudden he was all shy mountainy again. He set the rifle against the fence with its horn swinging
from the trigger guard. He faced her flushing a furious red, but only half from embarrassment, for the rest
was hap-piness. He circled her with his great arms and very hastily, he touched his lips to her soft ones.

"Now," he said exultantly, "now I will fight if I have to charge the men of the Empire alone."



CHAPTER FOUR

THE BATTLE OF EAGLEFOOT FLOW

THE MEN OF THE Confederation were pouring into Or-miston all night long, the little dark men of
Ch'cago and Selui, the tall blond ones from the regions of Iowa, where Dutch blood still survived,
mingled now with a Scandi-navian infusion from the upper rivers. All night there was a rumble of
wagons, bringing powder and ball from Selui, and food as well for Ormiston couldn't even attempt to
feed so many ravenous mouths. A magnificent army, ten thousand strong, and all of them seasoned
fighting men, trained in a dozen little wars and in the bloody War of the Lakes and Rivers, when
Ch'cago had bitten so large a piece from Selui territories.

The stand was to be at Ormiston, and Norse, the only settlement now between Joaquin Smith and
the Confed-eration, was left to its fate. Experienced leaders had ex-amined the territory, and had
agreed on a plan. Three miles south of the town, the road followed an ancient railroad cut, with
fifty-foot embankments on either side, heavily wooded for a mile north and south of the bridge across
Eaglefoot Flow.

Along this course they were to distribute their men, a single line where the bluffs were high and
steep, massed forces where the terrain permitted. Joaquin Smith must follow the road; there was no
other. An ideal situation for ambush, and a magnificently simple plan. So magnificent and so simple that
it could not fail, they said, and forgot completely that they were facing the supreme military genius of the
entire Age of the Enlightenment.

It was mid-morning when the woods-runners that had been sent into Ozarky returned with
breath-taking news. Joaquin Smith had received the Selui defiance of his rep-resentations, and was
marching. The Master was march-ing, and though they had come swiftly and had ridden horseback from
Norse, he could not now be far distant. His forces? The runners estimated them at four thou-sand men,
all mounted, with perhaps another thousand auxiliaries. Outnumbered two to one! But Hull Tarvish
remembered tales of other encounters where Joaquin Smith had overcome greater odds than these.

The time was at hand. In the little room beside File Ormson's workship, Hull was going over his