Похищенный
Chapter 20
AtthisIsupposeIcolouredwithmortification,forheaddedatonce,“Hoots!smallblametoye!Tobefearedofathingandyettodoit,iswhatmakestheprettiestkindofaman.Andthentherewaswaterthere,andwater’sathingthatdauntonsevenme.No,no,”saidAlan,“it’snoyouthat’stoblame,it’sme.”
Iaskedhimwhy.
“Why,”saidhe,“Ihaveprovedmyselfagomeralthisnight.ForfirstofallItakeawrongroad,andthatinmyowncountryofAppin;sothatthedayhascaughtuswhereweshouldneverhavebeen;andthankstothat,weliehereinsomedangerandmairdiscomfort.Andnext(whichistheworstofthetwo,foramanthathasbeensomuchamongtheheatherasmyself)Ihavecomewantingawater-bottle,andherewelieforalongsummer’sdaywithnaethingbutneatspirit.Yemaythinkthatasmallmatter;butbeforeitcomesnight,David,ye’llgivemenewsofit.”
Iwasanxioustoredeemmycharacter,andoffered,ifhewouldpouroutthebrandy,torundownandfillthebottleattheriver.
“Iwouldnaewastethegoodspiriteither,”sayshe.“It’sbeenagoodfriendtoyouthisnight;orinmypooropinion,yewouldstillbecockingonyonstone.Andwhat’smair,”sayshe,“yemayhaveobserved(youthat’samanofsomuchpenetration)thatAlanBreckStewartwasperhapswalkingquickerthanhisordinar’.”
“You!”Icried,“youwererunningfittoburst.”
“WasIso?”saidhe.“Well,then,yemaydependuponit,therewasnaetimetobelost.
