Читать книгу Pelican Pool. A Novel онлайн

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The last week of October was ending. At Surprise seven red-hot days had crowded after one another; six breathless nights had brought men and women gasping to their doors. The seventh evening had seen, an hour since, the moon come up, white, round and full, behind the Conical Hill; and with the moon arrived a flagging breeze—not cold, not even cool, but with life left to turn the narrow gum-leaves, to move the tent walls and the hessian blinds on the verandahs of the iron houses. The moon had climbed the hilltop an hour since, and now was some distance in the sky. Falling with a broad white light over the ranges, and no doubt upon the plain beyond, it found a way to the valley holding the stifled camp. It picked out the iron roofs, and discovered the trees, to make of their leaves bunches of silver fingers: it counted the tents straggling down the distance, and on the journey wove many patterns of light and shade. The stones in the bed of the dry creek shone with polished faces. The white ball in the sky numbered the panels of the yard, where the buggy horses—two greys, two bays—stood reflecting on their fate; and it numbered the crinkles in the stable roof.