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    triumphantly, to hear the sounds of the hunt dying away.
    Yet no one made a sound; and as the minutes passed, in the green shade, his feeling
    of triumph faded.
    At last he heard a voice--Jack's voice, but hushed.
    "Are you certain?"
    The savage addressed said nothing. Perhaps he made a gesture.
    Roger spoke.
    "If you're fooling us--"
    Immediately after this, there came a gasp, and a squeal of pain. Ralph crouched
    instinctively. One of the twins was there, outside the thicket, with Jack and Roger.
    "You're sure he meant in there?"
    The twin moaned faintly and then squealed again.
    "He meant he'd hide in there?"
    "Yes--yes--oh--!"
    Silver laughter scattered among the trees.
    So they knew.
    Ralph picked up his stick and prepared for battle. But what could they do? It would
    take them a week to break a path through the thicket; and anyone who wormed his way
    in would be helpless. He felt the point of his spear with his thumb and grinned
    without amusement. Whoever tried that would be stuck, squealing like a pig.
    They were going away, back to the tower rock. He could hear feet moving and then
    someone sniggered. There came again that high, bird-like cry that swept along the
    line. So some were still watching for him; but some--?
    Page 136
    Lord of the Flies
    There was a long, breathless silence. Ralph found that he had bark in his mouth from
    the gnawed spear. He stood and peered upwards to the Castle Rock.
    As he did so, he heard Jack's voice from the top.
    "Heave! Heave! Heave!"
    The red rock that he could see at the top of the cliff vanished like a curtain, and
    he could see figures and blue sky. A moment later the earth jolted, there was a
    rushing sound in the air, and the top of the thicket was cuffed as with a gigantic
    hand. The rock bounded on, thumping and smashing toward the beach, while a shower of
    broken twigs and leaves fell on him. Beyond the thicket, the tribe was cheering.
    Silence again.
    Ralph put his fingers in his mouth and bit them. There was only one other rock up
    there that they might conceivably move; but that was half as big as a cottage, big
    as a car, a tank. He visualized its probable progress with agonizing clearness--that
    one would start slowly, drop from ledge to ledge, trundle across the neck like an
    outsize steamroller.
    "Heave! Heave! Heave!"
    Ralph put down his spear, then picked it up again. He pushed his hair back
    irritably, took two hasty steps across the little space and then came back. He stood
    looking at the broken ends of branches.
    Still silence.
    He caught sight of the rise and fall of his diaphragm and was surprised to see how
    quickly he was breathing. Just left of center his heart-beats were visible. He put
    the spear down again.
    "Heave! Heave! Heave!"
    A shrill, prolonged cheer.
    Something boomed up on the red rock, then the earth jumped and began to shake
    steadily, while the noise as steadily increased. Ralph was shot into the air, thrown
    down, dashed against branches. At his right hand, and only a few feet away, the
    whole thicket bent and the roots screamed as they came out of the earth together. He
    saw something red that turned over slowly as a mill wheel. Then the red thing was
    past and the elephantine progress diminished toward the sea.
    Ralph knelt on the plowed-up soil, and waited for the earth to come back. Presently
    the white, broken stumps, the split sticks and the tangle of the thicket refocused.
    There was a kind of heavy feeling in his body where he had watched his own pulse.
    Silence again.
    Yet not entirely so. They were whispering out there; and suddenly the branches were
    shaken furiously at two places on his right. The pointed end of a stick appeared. In
    panic, Ralph thrust his own stick through the crack and struck with all his might.
    "Aaa-ah!"
    His spear twisted a little in his hands and then he withdrew it again.
    "Ooh-ooh--"
    Someone was moaning outside and a babble of voices rose. A fierce argument was going
    on and the wounded savage kept groaning. Then when there was silence, a single voice
    spoke and Ralph decided that it was not Jack's.
    Page 137
    Lord of the Flies
    "See? I told you--he's dangerous."
    The wounded savage moaned again.
    What else? What next?
    Ralph fastened his hands round the chewed spear and his hair fell. Someone was
    muttering, only a few yards away toward the Castle Rock. He heard a savage say "No!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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