Читать книгу Shaman's Dream: The Modoc War - Lu Boone's Mattson - Страница 63

When Wade went outside to collect his pants, the clothesline was empty. But he caught a glimpse of something crouched down by the hen house. Then it got up and ran.

“Drop them drawers!” Wade shouted. “Drop ‘em or your dead!”

Without turning, the Indian tossed the britches back over his shoulder and sprinted, not pausing to see who was coming. The soles of his moccasined feet flashed as he pounded away down the track.

“Hunh-Hunh! Hunh-Hunh!” his breath went with each stride, like a wind-broke mare, the sounds getting fainter and fainter as he cleared the track and leaped out of sight into the bushes.

“Dang!” Wade said to no one as he went out bare-assed, stepping gingerly in his stockings over the cinder track, and fetched back the pants.