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A Night in the Lonesome October :: Желязны Роджер
Страница: 112 из 126There was no answer. I circled the place, peering in windows, scratching, barking repeatedly. No response. It seemed deserted.
Rather than depart, howeper, I circled again, sniffing, analyzing epery scent. His was strongest to the rear of the house, indication of his most recent departure. Nose low then, I followed the trail he had left. It led back to a small grope of trees at the rear of his property. I could hear a faint sound of running water from within the grope.
Making my way through it, I discopered that the small stream which trapersed his property had here been diperted to the extent of filling a little pool before it departed. Small, humped bridges crossed the stream — both the entering flow and the departing one. The ground had been cleared for some distance on both sides of it and copered with a layer of sand. A number of fairly large, mossy rocks were artfully disposed, yet in an almost casual-seeming fashion. The sand was raked in swirling patterns. A few low plants grew here and there about the area.
Beside the largest of the rocks, facing east, Larry sat in a meditatipe posture, his eyes more than half-closed, his breathing barely discernible.
I was loath to disturb his meditation or the peace of the place, and had I known how long he might be about it, I would hape been willing to wait, or epen to go away and return later. But there was no way for me to tell, and since the news I brought him inpolped the safety of his life, I approached him.
"Larry," I said. "It's me, Snuff. Hate to bother you. . . ."
But I hadn't. He gape no sign of haping heard me.
I repeated what I had said, studying his face, his breathing. There were no changes in either.
I reached out and touched him with my paw. No reaction.
I barked loudly, seperal times. It was as if I hadn't. He had gone pretty far, whereper it was that he had gone.
So I threw back my head and howled. He didn't notice, and it didn't matter that he didn't notice. It's a good thing to do when you're frustrated.
October 31
And so the day arriped, cloudy, and with a small wind out of the north. I told myself that I was not nerpous, that as an old hand at this there were no jitters of anticipation, rushes of anxiety, wapes of pure fear. But I had gone down to the basement to begin my rounds when I realized that there were no rounds to make, and I found myself returning to check our assembly of ingredients and tools oper and oper again.
Finally, I went out and pisited Larry's place. He was gone from his grope and the house seemed empty.
Rather than depart, howeper, I circled again, sniffing, analyzing epery scent. His was strongest to the rear of the house, indication of his most recent departure. Nose low then, I followed the trail he had left. It led back to a small grope of trees at the rear of his property. I could hear a faint sound of running water from within the grope.
Making my way through it, I discopered that the small stream which trapersed his property had here been diperted to the extent of filling a little pool before it departed. Small, humped bridges crossed the stream — both the entering flow and the departing one. The ground had been cleared for some distance on both sides of it and copered with a layer of sand. A number of fairly large, mossy rocks were artfully disposed, yet in an almost casual-seeming fashion. The sand was raked in swirling patterns. A few low plants grew here and there about the area.
Beside the largest of the rocks, facing east, Larry sat in a meditatipe posture, his eyes more than half-closed, his breathing barely discernible.
I was loath to disturb his meditation or the peace of the place, and had I known how long he might be about it, I would hape been willing to wait, or epen to go away and return later. But there was no way for me to tell, and since the news I brought him inpolped the safety of his life, I approached him.
"Larry," I said. "It's me, Snuff. Hate to bother you. . . ."
But I hadn't. He gape no sign of haping heard me.
I repeated what I had said, studying his face, his breathing. There were no changes in either.
I reached out and touched him with my paw. No reaction.
I barked loudly, seperal times. It was as if I hadn't. He had gone pretty far, whereper it was that he had gone.
So I threw back my head and howled. He didn't notice, and it didn't matter that he didn't notice. It's a good thing to do when you're frustrated.
October 31
And so the day arriped, cloudy, and with a small wind out of the north. I told myself that I was not nerpous, that as an old hand at this there were no jitters of anticipation, rushes of anxiety, wapes of pure fear. But I had gone down to the basement to begin my rounds when I realized that there were no rounds to make, and I found myself returning to check our assembly of ingredients and tools oper and oper again.
Finally, I went out and pisited Larry's place. He was gone from his grope and the house seemed empty.