Читать книгу The Ark of 1803. A Story of Louisiana Purchase Times онлайн

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Beyond doubt the man was in bad plight. His indiscretions were heavy upon him; a raging headache and many other aches oppressed him sorely; his coonskin cap was pulled low over watery eyes. He noted the smoke from the rock chimney and strode to the door.

But the latch-string, that ancient token of hospitality, had disappeared within its hole, and the door itself was fast shut. He thundered at it with his fist, but obtained no response, unless an ambiguous and irritating snicker from within could be thus construed.

“Open the door! It is I, the master! Open this door!” he shouted.

Still no response; but now the window was pushed slowly aside, and out through the hole there came a long stick, to the end of which was tied a huge, fresh, white-walnut chip; on the smoothed side of this the master at length noticed there was a black, coarse scrawl.

“What’s this?” exclaimed the irate pedagogue, starting backward as they dangled the chip under his nose.

“Read it, master!” yelled a chorus of wild voices from within the dark hole. “Read it, master! Ye can’t come in till ye do.”