"Robert Charles Wilson - Julian- A Christmas Story" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson Robert Charles)

dwell on that. The point is, that while I disliked snakes, I was not especially afraid of them, as Julian
was. And I could not help admiring his restraint: for what was writhing in the shadows nearby was a nest
of snakes that had been aroused by the heat of the fire.

I should add that it was not uncommon for these collapsed ruins to be infested with snakes, mice,
spiders, and poisonous insects. Death by bite or sting was one of the hazards routinely faced by Tipmen,
including concussion, blood poisoning, and accidental burial. The snakes, after the Tipmen ceased work
for the winter, must have crept into this chasm anticipating an undisturbed hibernation, of which we and
the Reservist had unfortunately deprived them.

The ReservistтАФwho came back a little unsteadily from his necessariesтАФhad not yet noticed these
prior tenants. He seated himself on his crate, scowled at us, and studiously refilled his pipe.

"If he discharges all five shots from his rifle," Julian whispered, "then we have a chance of overcoming
him, or of recovering our own weapons. But, AdamтАФ"

"No talking there," the Reservist mumbled.

"тАФyou must remember your father's advice," Julian finished.

"I said keep quiet!"

Julian cleared his throat and addressed the Reservist directly, since the time for action had obviously
arrived: "Sir, I have to draw your attention to something."

"What would that be, my little draft dodger?"
 "I'm afraid we're not alone in this terrible place."

"Not alone!" the Reservist said, casting his eyes about him nervously. Then he recovered and squinted
at Julian. "I don't see any other persons."

"I don't mean persons, but vipers," said Julian.

"Vipers!"

"In other wordsтАФsnakes."

At this the Reservist started again, his mind perhaps still slightly confused by the effects of the hemp
smoke; then he sneered and said, "Go on, you can't pull that one on me."

"I'm sorry if you think I'm joking, for there are at least a dozen snakes advancing from the shadows,
and one of them[10] is about to achieve intimacy with your right boot."

"Hah," the Reservist said, but he could not help glancing in the indicated direction, where one of the
serpentsтАФa fat and lengthy exampleтАФhad indeed lifted its head and was sampling the air above his
bootlace.

The effect was immediate, and left no more time for planning. The Reservist leapt from his seat on the
wooden crate, uttering oaths, and danced backward, at the same time attempting to bring his rifle to his
shoulder and confront the threat. He discovered to his dismay that it was not a question of one snake but