the foremost riders went down; another stumbled over him, fell. The rush was checked for an instant, milling upon the road.
“Dick,” I cried, “rush Ruth over to the tunnel mouth. We’ll Kasperi Kapanen Tröja follow. We can hold them there. I’ll get Martin. Chiu-Ming, after the pony, quick.”
I pushed Ondrej Pavelec Tröjor the two over the rim of the hollow. Side by side the Chinaman and I ran back through the gateway. I pointed to the animal and rushed back into the fortress.
“Quick, Mart!” I shouted up the shattered stairway. “We can get through the hollow. Ruth and Drake are on their way to the break we came through. Hurry!”
“All right. Just a minute,” he called.
I heard him empty his magazine with almost machine-gun quickness. There was a short pause, and down the broken steps he leaped, gray eyes blazing.
“The pony?” He ran beside me toward the portal. “All my ammunition is on him.”
“Chiu-Ming’s POLO Juventus taking care of that,” I gasped.
We darted out of the gateway. A good five hundred yards away were Ruth and Drake, running straight to the green tunnel’s mouth. Between them and Patrick Roy Tröja us was Chiu-Ming urging on the pony.
As we sped after him I looked back. The horsemen had recovered, were now a scant half-mile from where the road swept past the fortress. I saw that with their Celtic Dresy swords the horsemen bore great bows. A little cloud of arrows sparkled from them; fell far short.
“Don’t look back,” grunted Ventnor. “Stretch yourself, Walter. There’s a surprise coming. Hope to God I judged the time right.”
We turned off the ruined way; raced over the sward.
“If it looks Peuterey Męskie Wasp as though — we can’t make it,” he panted, “YOU beat it after the rest. I’ll try to hold ’em until you get into the tunnel. Never do for ’em to get Ruth.”
“Right.” My own breathing was growing labored, “WE’LL hold them. Drake can take care of Ruth.”
“Good boy,” he said. “I wouldn’t have asked you. It probably means death.”
“Very well,” I gasped, irritated. Philipp Grubauer Tröja “But why borrow trouble?”
He reached out, touched me.
“You’re right, Walter,” he grinned. “It does — seem — like carrying coals — to Newcastle.”
There was a thunderous booming behind us; a shattering crash. A cloud of smoke and dust hung over the northern end of the ruined fortress.
It lifted swiftly, and I saw that the whole side of the structure had fallen, littering the road with its fragments. Scattered prone among these were men and horses; others staggered, screaming. On the farther side of this stony dike our pursuers were held like rushing waters behind a sudden fallen tree.
“Timed to a second!” cried Ventnor. “Hold ’em for a while. Fuses and dynamite. Blew out the whole side, Survetement Liverpool right on ’em, by the Lord!”
On we fled. Chiu-Ming was now well in advance; Ruth and Dick Lazio Fotbalové Dres less than half a mile from Maillot Swansea the opening Valence CF of the green tunnel. I saw Drake stop, raise his rifle, empty it before him, and, holding Ruth by the Maillot Deportivo hand, race back toward us.
Even as he turned, the vine-screened entrlinks:
http://www13.plala.or.jp/gakuki3/cgi_bin/aska/aska.cgi
http://www13.plala.or.jp/gakuki3/cgi_bin/aska/aska.cgi
http://www13.plala.or.jp/white_roots/gwbbs/gwbbs.cgi |
