Читать книгу Psmith Series - P G Wodehouse - Страница 32

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It was a morning in the middle of September.; The Jacksons were breakfasting.; Mr. Jackson was reading letters.; The rest, including Gladys Maud, whose finely chiselled features were gradually disappearing behind a mask of bread-and-milk, had settled down to serious work.; The usual catch-as-catch-can contest between Marjory and Phyllis for the jam (referee and time-keeper, Mrs. Jackson) had resulted, after both combatants had been cautioned by the referee, in a victory for Marjory, who had duly secured the stakes.; The hour being nine-fifteen, and the official time for breakfast nine o’clock, Mike’s place was still empty.

“I’ve had a letter from MacPherson,” said Mr. Jackson.

MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering gentleman, referred to in a previous chapter, who kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep.

“He seems very satisfied with Mike’s friend Wyatt.; At the moment of writing Wyatt is apparently incapacitated owing to a bullet in the shoulder, but expects to be fit again shortly.; That young man seems to make things fairly lively wherever he is.; I don’t wonder he found a public school too restricted a sphere for his energies.”

“Has he been fighting a duel?” asked Marjory, interested.

“Bushrangers,” said Phyllis.

“There aren’t any bushrangers in Buenos Ayres,” said Ella.

“How do you know?” said Phyllis clinchingly.

“Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray,” began Gladys Maud, conversationally, through the bread-and-milk; but was headed off.

“He gives no details.; Perhaps that letter on Mike’s plate supplies them.; I see it comes from Buenos Ayres.”

“I wish Mike would come and open it,” said Marjory.; “Shall I go and hurry him up?”

The missing member of the family entered as she spoke.

“Buck up, Mike,” she shouted.; “There’s a letter from Wyatt.; He’s been wounded in a duel.”

“With a bushranger,” added Phyllis.

“Bush-ray,” explained Gladys Maud.

“Is there?” said Mike.; “Sorry I’m late.”

He opened the letter and began to read.

“What does he say?” inquired Marjory.; “Who was the duel with?”

“How many bushrangers were there?” asked Phyllis.

Mike read on.

“Good old Wyatt!; He’s shot a man.”

“Killed him?” asked Marjory excitedly.

“No.; Only potted him in the leg.; This is what he says.; First page is mostly about the Ripton match and so on.; Here you are.; ’I’m dictating this to a sportsman of the name of Danvers, a good chap who can’t help being ugly, so excuse bad writing.; The fact is we’ve been having a bust-up here, and I’ve come out of it with a bullet in the shoulder, which has crocked me for the time being.; It happened like this.; An ass of a Gaucho had gone into the town and got jolly tight, and coming back, he wanted to ride through our place.; The old woman who keeps the lodge wouldn’t have it at any price.; Gave him the absolute miss-in-baulk.; So this rotter, instead of shifting off, proceeded to cut the fence, and go through that way.; All the farms out here have their boundaries marked by wire fences, and it is supposed to be a deadly sin to cut these.; Well, the lodge-keeper’s son dashed off in search of help.; A chap called Chester, an Old Wykehamist, and I were dipping sheep close by, so he came to us and told us what had happened.; We nipped on to a couple of horses, pulled out our revolvers, and tooled after him.; After a bit we overtook him, and that’s when the trouble began.; The johnny had dismounted when we arrived.; I thought he was simply tightening his horse’s girths.; What he was really doing was getting a steady aim at us with his revolver.; He fired as we came up, and dropped poor old Chester.; I thought he was killed at first, but it turned out it was only his leg.; I got going then.; I emptied all the six chambers of my revolver, and missed him clean every time.; In the meantime he got me in the right shoulder.; Hurt like sin afterwards, though it was only a sort of dull shock at the moment.; The next item of the programme was a forward move in force on the part of the enemy.; The man had got his knife out now—­why he didn’t shoot again I don’t know—­and toddled over in our direction to finish us off.; Chester was unconscious, and it was any money on the Gaucho, when I happened to catch sight of Chester’s pistol, which had fallen just by where I came down.; I picked it up, and loosed off.; Missed the first shot, but got him with the second in the ankle at about two yards; and his day’s work was done.; That’s the painful story.; Danvers says he’s getting writer’s cramp, so I shall have to stop....’”

“By Jove!” said Mike.

“What a dreadful thing!” said Mrs. Jackson.

“Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger,” said Phyllis.

“I told you it was a duel, and so it was,” said Marjory.

“What a terrible experience for the poor boy!” said Mrs. Jackson.

“Much better than being in a beastly bank,” said Mike, summing up.; “I’m glad he’s having such a ripping time.; It must be almost as decent as Wrykyn out there....; I say, what’s under that dish?”