Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

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"Tihoni has been driving this bus for the past fifteen years," he said. "Every morning he has the same job, getting off, but the miracle always happens. I've never known him to fail to make his run."

"What nationality is he?" Hardie asked. "He doesn't look Tahitian."

"You may well ask," Tyson replied. "Not even the League of Nations could decide it. George, I ought to have told you something more about Mauri. She's certain to ask you to stop at Vaihiva. Fara, the man you're to stop with in Tautira, will direct you to her place. It's eight or ten miles farther down the coast."

At last, after prolonged and exhausting efforts at the crank, the worn-out engine burst into a clattering roar. Tyson waved good-bye. The ancient ruin leaped forward as the driver released the clutch, the heavily loaded top swaying from one side to the other on its rickety supports. The supercargo, who had turned to speak to a girl at the curb, swung himself aboard without taking his eyes from her face, and continued waving as long as she was in sight.