Всадник без головы

Chapter 1

           Thesilencesolemnasthatofafunerealprocessionisinterruptedonlyatintervalsbythepistol-likecrackofawhip,ortheloud"wo-ha,"deliveredindeepbaritonefromthethicklipsofsomesableteamster.

           Slowlythetrainmoveson,asifgropingitsway.Thereisnoregularroad.Therouteisindicatedbythewheel-marksofsomevehiclesthathavepassedbeforebarelyconspicuous,byhavingcrushedtheculmsoftheshotgrass.

           Notwithstandingtheslowprogress,theteamsaredoingtheirbest.Theplanterbelieveshimselfwithinlessthantwentymilesoftheendofhisjourney.Hehopestoreachitbeforenight:hencethemarchcontinuedthroughthemid-dayheat.

           Unexpectedlythedriversaredirectedtopullup,byasignfromtheoverseer;whohasbeenridingahundredyardsintheadvance,andwhoisseentomakeasuddenstopasifsomeobstructionhadpresenteditself.

           Hecomestrottingbacktowardsthetrain.Hisgesturestellofsomethingamiss.Whatisit?

           TherehasbeenmuchtalkaboutIndiansofaprobabilityoftheirbeingencounteredinthisquarter.

           Canitbethered-skinnedmarauders?Scarcely:thegesturesoftheoverseerdonotbetrayactualalarm.

           "Whatisit,MrSansom?"askedtheplanter,asthemanrodeup.

           "Thegrassairburnt.Theprairy’sbeenafire."

           "Beenonfire!Isitonfirenow?"hurriedlyinquiredtheownerofthewaggons,withanapprehensiveglancetowardsthetravellingcarriage.

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