Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗

"You're joking," gasped Sebastian, and then blushed bright crimson.

"I'm not, you know."

"Good grief," said Sebastian; and then, groping for some, thing more expressive, "Son of a gunV

"Aren't you pleased?" Rosa pouted playfully. "I did it for you.

"But we aren't even married."

"That can be arranged."

"And quickly, too," agreed Sebastian. He grabbed her wrist. "Come on!"

"Sebastian, remember my condition."

"Good grief, I'm sorry."

He took her back to Lalapanzi, handing her over the rough ground with as much care as though she was a case of sweating gelignite.

"What's the big hurry?" asked Flynn jovially at dinner that evening. "I've got a little job for Bassie first. I want him to slip across the river..

"No, you don't," said Rosa. "We are going to see the priest at Beira."

"It Would only take Bassie a couple of weeks. Then we could talk about it when he gets back."

"We are going to Beira tomorrow!"

"What's the rush?" Flynn asked again.

"Well, the truth is, Flynn, old boy.. Wriggling in his chair, colouring up vividly, Sebastian relapsed into silence.

"The truth is I'm going to have a baby," Rosa finished for him.

"You're what?" Flynn stared at her in horror.

"You said that you wanted to see your grandchild," Rosa pointed out.

"But I didn't mean you to start work on it right away,"

roared Flynn, and he rounded on Sebastian. "You dirty young bugger!"

"Father, your heard" Rosa restrained him. "Anyway, don't pick on Sebastian, I did my share as well."

"You shameless... You brazen little -."

Rosa reached behind the seat cushion where Flynn had hidden the gin bottle. "Have a little of this it will help calm you."

They left for Beira the following morning. Rosa was carried in a maschille with Sebastian trotting beside it in anxious attendance, ready to help ease the litter over the fords and rough places, and to curse any of the bearers who stumbled.

When they left Lalapanzi, Flynn O'Flynn brought up the rear of the column, lying in his maschille with a square faced bottle for company, scowling and muttering darkly about fornication and sin."

But both Rosa and Sebastian ignored him, and when they camped that night the two of them sat across the camp-fire from him, and whispered and laughed secretly together. They pitched their voices at such a tantalizing level that even by straining his ears, Flynn could not overhear their conversation. It infuriated him to such an extent that finally he made a loud remark about beating the hell out of the person who had repaid his hospitality by violating his daughter."

Rosa said that she would give anything to see him try it again. In her opinion it would be better than a visit to the circus. And Flynn gathered his dignity and his gin bottle and stalked away to where Mohammed had laid out his bedding under ale an-to of thorn bushes.

During the dark hours before dawn they were visited by an old lion. He came with a rush from the darkness beyond the fire-light, grunting like an angry boar, the great black bush of his mane erect, snaking with incredible speed towards the huddle of blanket-wrapped figures about the fire.

Flynn was the only one not asleep. He had waited all night, watching Sebastian's reclining figure; just waiting for him to move across to the temporary thorn-bush shelter that gave Rosa privacy. Lying beside Flynn was his shotgun, dOUble-loaded with big loopers, lion shot, and he had every intention of using it.

When the lion charged into the camp, Flynn sat up quickly and fired both barrels of the shotgun at point-blank range into the lion's heead and chest, killing it instantly. But the momentum of its rush bowled it forward, sent it sliding full into Sebastian, and both of them rolled into the camp-fire.

Sebastian awoke to lion noises, and gun-fire, and the violent collision of a big body into his, and red-hot coals sticking to various parts of his anatomy. With a single bound, and a wild cry, he threw off his blanket, came to his feet, and went into such a lively song and dance routine, yodelling and high-kicking, and striking out at his imaginary assailants that Flynn was reduced to a jelly of helpless laughter.

The laughter, and the praise and thanks showered on him by Sebastian, Rosa, and the bearers, cleared the air.

"You saved my life, "said Sebastian soulfully.

"Oh Daddy, you're wonderful," said Rosa. "Thank you.

Thank you," and she hugged him.

The mantle of the hero felt snug and comfortable on Flynn's shoulders. He became almost human and the improvement continued as each day's march brought them closer to the little Portuguese port of Beira, for Flynn greatly enjoyed his rare visits to civilization.

The last night they camped a mile from the outskirts of the town, and after a private conference with Flynn, old Mohammed went ahead armed with a small purse of escudos to make the arrangements for Flynn's formal entry on the morrow.