Всадник без головы

Chapter 52

           ItwasnotuntilheheardPhelimcaressingthehoundinhisgrotesqueIrishfashion,thathebecameawareofthecreature’spresence.Andthenheremainedindifferenttoit,untilashoutofsurprise,coupledwithhisownname,attractedhisattention.

           "Whatisit,Pheelum?What’swrong?Hesasnakebitye?"

           "Oh,MistherStump,lukatTara!See!thare’ssomethin’tiedabouthisneck.Itwasn’ttherewhenhelift.Whatdoyezthinkitis?"

           Thehunter’seyesturnedimmediatelyuponthehound.Sureenoughtherewassomethingaroundtheanimal’sneck:apieceofbuckskinthong.Buttherewassomethingbesidesatinypacketattachedtothethong,andhangingunderneaththethroat!

           Zebdrawinghisknife,glidedtowardsthedog.Thecreaturerecoiledinfear.

           Alittlecoaxingconvincedhimthattherewasnohostileintent;andhecameupagain.

           Thethongwassevered,thepacketlaidopen;itcontainedacard!

           Therewasanameuponthecard,andwritingwritinginwhatappearedtoberedink;butitwasblood!

           Therudestbackwoodsmanknowshowtoread.EvenZebStumpwasnoexception;andhesoondecipheredthecharacterstraceduponthebitofpasteboard.

           Ashefinished,acryrosefromhislips,instrangecontrastwiththegroanshehadbeenjustuttering.Itwasashoutofgladness,ofjoy!

           "ThanktheAlmightyforthis!"headded;"andthankmyoleKatinuckschoolmasterforputtin’meclarthroughmyWebster’sspellin’-book.Helives,Pheelum!helives!Lookatthis.Oh,youcan’tread.Nomatter

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