"We were following up a path in the Esterel: a little gorge of a
path cut by some torrent long since dried. The track had steep
sides--fifteen to twenty feet--right and left, and was so narrow
that we took it single file. I was leading.
"Now, on our way westward out of Cannes, that morning, we had
passed the golf-links, and Farrell had been talking golf ever
since. I don't know why golf-talk should have such power to
infuriate those who despise that game. But so it is, Roddy.
"I had the weapon in my pocket. I had my fingers on it as I
trudged along, and was saying to myself, 'Why not here? In the
name of common sense, why not here? Why not here and now?'--
when a leveret, that had somehow bungled its footing on the high
bank above, came tumbling down, not three yards ahead of us.
The poor little brute picked itself up, half-stunned, caught
sight of us, and made a bolt up the path ahead. From this side
to that it darted, trying to climb and escape; but again and
again the bank beat it, and from each spring it toppled back;
and we followed relentlessly.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210