Повелитель мух
Shadows and Tall Trees
"Roger?"
"Yes."
"That’sthree,then."
Oncemoretheysetouttoclimbtheslopeofthemountain.Thedarknessseemedtoflowroundthemlikeatide.Jack,whohadsaidnothing,begantochokeandcough,andagustofwindsetallthreespluttering.Ralph’seyeswereblindedwithtears.
"Ashes.We’reontheedgeoftheburntpatch."
Theirfootstepsandtheoccasionalbreezewerestirringupsmalldevilsofdust.Nowthattheystoppedagain,Ralphhadtimewhilehecoughedtorememberhowsillytheywere.Iftherewasnobeast—andalmostcertainlytherewasnobeast—inthatcase,wellandgood;butiftherewassomethingwaitingontopofthemountain—whatwastheuseofthreeofthem,handicappedbythedarknessandcarryingonlysticks?
"We’rebeingfools."
Outofthedarknesscametheanswer.
"Windy?"
IrritablyRalphshookhimself.ThiswasallJack’sfault.
"’CourseIam.Butwe’restillbeingfools."
"Ifyoudon’twanttogoon,"saidthevoicesarcastically,"I’llgoupbymyself."
