"--Couldn't help it, honestly," said Heywood. "Can't describe, or
explain. Just something--went black inside my head, you know." He
paused. "No: don't recall seeing a thing, really, until I pitched away
the--what happened to be in my hands. A blank, all that. Losing your
head, I suppose they call it. Most extraordinary."
The girl's question recalled him from his puzzle.
"Do? Oh!" He disposed of the subject easily. "I ran, that's all.--Oh,
yes, but I ran faster.--Not half so many as you'd suppose. Most of 'em
were away, burning your hospital. Saw the smoke, as I ran. All gone but
a handful. Hence those stuffed hats, Rudie, in the trench.--Only three
of the lot could run. I merely scuttled into the next bamboo, and kept
on scuttling. No: they weren't half loaded. Oh, yes, arrow in the
shoulder--scratch. Of course, when it came dark, I stopped running, and
made for the nearest fisherman. That's all."
"But," protested Rudolph, wondering, "we heard shots."
"Yes, I had my Webley in my belt. Fortunately. I _told_ you: three of
them could run." The speaker patted the terrier in his lap. "My dream,
eh, little dog? You _were_ the only one to know.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283