ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
The Pulp Fiction Megapack. John Wallace
Читать онлайн.Название The Pulp Fiction Megapack
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781434447357
Автор произведения John Wallace
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство Ingram
“He’s using the rifle,” muttered the girl.
Dix mended his stride, spurred on by the singing lead. He was now at the tip of a cedar-draped point and as he rounded this and left Cumber’s range of vision he breathed in deep relief. But his meandering course had cost them distance as was emphasized by a crashing in the undergrowth on his left and just ahead. Without pausing to reason he swerved at right angles from the shoreline and darted toward the middle of the lake. As he gave his heel to the ice in making the turn, a sprawling, snarling shape struck the ice by his side and slid along helplessly beside him, the hot glow of the cruel eyes causing the girl to mask her face with the blanket. This loathsome companionship endured only for a moment, however, as with another backward thrust Dix headed the sled down the lake. The rest of the pack were now on the ice, running rapidly.
* * * *
Skating easily and hugging the shore now he knew all the dogs were behind him, Dix allowed the animals to draw within some fifty feet of him, when he turned sharply. The maddened brutes essayed in vain to change their courses as they slid helplessly along. Enraged by their failure and pricked on by the fearful cries of their master, somewhere behind the point, they frantically regained their feet and streaked once more after the fugitives. Dix held straight ahead until they were dangerously near, then repeated his maneuver and sped for the outlet. But now he was within the zone of the rifle as Cumber had gained the point. Several times the bullets clipped the ice on either side of the sled.
Either the instinct of the chase or the commands of their master now worked a change in the brutes’ tactics, for immediately following their last grotesque failure they scrambled ashore and disappeared in the spruce. The girl cried out in relief, but Dix gritted his teeth and put every ounce of energy into his feet. Ahead was the outlet of the lake, and the winding stream connecting it with Little Purgatory seemed very narrow in the gray dawn. He knew the dogs would attempt to head him off once he quit the open expanse of the lake. Already they were racing in a straight line while he was held to the curving course of the river. A wild impulse to trust to luck and enter the overflowed areas was entertained for a moment, but he feared the shadows and the logs and reeds, and held to the stream.
“We’ve left them behind,” rejoiced the girl.
“Sit tight,” he panted. “They may try to head us off.”
The stream curved and twisted and in places doubled back on itself. Between strokes Dix listened for the menace he knew was threading the covert ahead. At last he located the danger, a low rasping growling. His aching back straightened, his sagging arms grew rigid, and before the girl detected the danger he had picked up speed to the sprinting point, and he thanked God he had learned to skate as a youth.
“Open water!” she shrilly warned, pointing to a black streak in the middle of the channel. Too late to swing to the right, he skirted it on the left, plunging into the face of the crouching danger.
Then it was upon him, and with an inarticulate cry in which was blended the shrill scream of the girl, he lunged ahead just as the mass of infuriated beasts leaped out to pull them down. Like a meteor the sled shot ahead. Something grabbed at his steel-shod heel and relinquished it with a howl of pain. And he was clear of them and they were sliding into the black water.
“That’ll hold them for a bit,” he choked, bending low over the back of the sled.
“I’m proud of you,” she cried.
“Nonsense. I was scared blue,” he panted. “Plenty of room ahead. No more ambushes.”
He took it leisurely and over his shoulder watched the dogs struggling to crawl back to the ice. The plunge evidently had lessened their lust, for they whined and shivered as old Cumber trotted up and dragged them from their bath. Dix was halfway across Little Purgatory before the last brute was rescued. Cumber frantically discharged his rifle and raged at his pets. But their ardor was dampened and they would not resume the pursuit. Strangely indifferent to the occasional bullets Dix watched the scene with grim satisfaction. The dogs refused to advance and Cumber’s wild rage had spoiled his marksmanship.
A slow smile of triumph was overspreading Dix’s haggard face when there came a wrench at his right foot and he would have fallen if not for his grasp on the back of the sled. As it was he sagged to his knees. As the girl felt herself whirled about she cried out, “Are you hurt?” And there was a world of agony in her voice.
“Clamp given out,” he explained. “Give me a piece of cord—anything.”
“Better than cord. Here’s a strap,” she rejoiced by replying.
As he knelt to repair the damage he noted with alarm that Cumber had detected his predicament and with renewed zeal was urging the dogs forward. But the brutes were mutinous and moved uneasily in a circle about their master, Infuriated to see his victims within reach and about to escape, the crazed man began belaboring the dogs with the butt of his rifle. They fell back from him, snapping and snarling as the blows fell. With a wild cry Cumber swung his rifle at the leader, holding it by the muzzle. The blow fell heavily, the dog reared with rage and grabbed it between his powerful teeth, there was an explosion and the man went down in a heap.
“He’s shooting at us,” mumbled the girl.
“He’ll not harm us,” comforted Dix, rising to his feet once more and resuming his flight.
“We shall soon be there,” he encouraged, pointing to the smoke of the settlement.
“You’ve been good to me,” she said.
“Who wouldn’t be?” he murmured. “Sometime I shall have something to say to you, sometime when I have the right.”
“The right? You have that now,” she impulsively cried.
“No; not till you’re back home among your kin and friends,” he awkwardly corrected.
Then she understood and a crimson wave swept up from beneath the mackinaw collar and made her eyes appear very moist and tender. “I shall always be glad to see you,” she shyly whispered.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.