Читать книгу Pelican Pool. A Novel онлайн

10 страница из 46

The old man of Surprise sat in the recess of his verandah, on a full-length wicker chair, both legs at easiest angle, heavy walking stick at hand, a glass at his elbow, a pipe in his clutch. The hessian blinds, nailed to the woodwork, threw the place into gloom, unless crevices let in a beam of the moon. Old Neville sat back in the half-dark, a man of small and tough make, covered from collar to ankles in white duck, with brown, wrinkled face, bristling grey moustache, shaggy white eyebrows, and an aggressive manner. He was seventy; but he was to be reckoned with still. Behind him, two canvas waterbags hung midway from the roof, and the single small table, with the whisky bottle and the box of matches on it, he had taken for himself. He put out bony fingers for the matches.

"Damn that wretched fellow! I'll hunt him off the place to-morrow."

A girl and two men were his company. The girl sat between the men, and the three people leaned back in canvas chairs. The nearest man, who was dressed in riding clothes, was young—no more than thirty-five. He was tall, and of a wiry make, and his skin was tanned. His face was clean shaven, with a trace of temper in it, while he had the manner of one well able to take care of himself. He gave his attention to a pipe. He was known through all that country as James Power of Kaloona Station.