Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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He was feeling faint—he ate the remains of his food, and with a reverent glance at the place where Daniels lay, he pushed the plank out on to the seething waters. Lightly he jumped on it himself, and, with a tight grip on the projecting pieces of wood, gave himself up to the mercy of the torrent.

His lantern went out; the darkness was intense; there was no sound but the lashing of the waters and the drumming of the raft against the sides of the tunnel. The current was swifter than anything he had ever known. The water just tore along at a breakneck speed, lashed over the frail raft and drenched Alan to the skin. He was faint. In a dim way he thought of his life—how empty it had been. Where was Desmond—and Uncle John? Cambridge came before his eyes, and he could almost see the serene picture of the “backs” with their quaint bridges and fields beyond.

He felt stiff. Mechanically he held on to the raft, even when his senses left him; and the frail wood with its worn burden of humanity, rushed on, down into the depths, carried by the river that was descending lower and lower through the earth.