Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

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McLeod squirmed down more firmly in his seat. "I've a feeling that we're going to enjoy this ride," he said.

Hardie grinned. "Shouldn't wonder. Who's this sitting next me, did you notice?"

"Can't say I did. Why don't you look?"

"It's impossible without rubbing noses."

"Well, that's an ancient island custom."

"For all that, Mac, there's something more than pathetic about it."

"About what?"

"This thing we're on."

"Remember, it isn't a motor bus. It's a--what did Tyson call it? Anyway, something purely native."

"Imagine traveling in the old days: twenty or thirty paddlers on a side in one of their superb canoes. And now, this contraption!"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it. I'll bet these people are having just as good a time as their ancestors did in their canoes, and they don't have to work so hard. What a jolly lot they are! I've heard more honest laughter in the past five minutes than you'll hear in as many months, at home."

"Wish I understood the language. I'd like to know what they're so merry about." Hardie regarded the swaying top. "Wonder how our old friend is, upstairs? He was tight, wasn't he?"