[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pounded the rock with his fist.
Well, you know, it could have been some kind of mirage or something,
reflecting part of Atlanta onto the mountains, or something like that. I ve
never heard of mirages on a mountain, though.
I ve never heard of castles on mountains in north Georgia, either. All that
cold water must have done something to my eyes.
Alec clapped an arm on his shoulder and shook him gently. No use losing sleep
over, though.
I guess not, David sighed wearily. He stood up, stretched, and yawned. Back
in the tent he flopped down atop his sleeping bag and lay there trying to
think about the magic of Ireland, trying to picture in his mind s eye the
coming of the Tuatha de Danaan. But another image kept intruding in his
thoughts, refusing to give way: the image of a shadowy castle on a
mountaintop.
Sleep claimed David finally, but he awoke again shortly before sunrise to lie
quietly with his face by the door, looking out into the swirls of white mist
awaiting banishment by the sun. A trace of the uncharacteristic coolness
remained in the air, and he snuggled gratefully into his sleeping bag, heard
Alec groan and roll over onto his back.
Yeah, just a couple more minutes and he would get up and watch the sunrise
from his Place of Power. It was the Celtic thing to do, after all. He had
learned that much from the books he d read: The Celts had ordered the year in
certain ways, and certain days and times of day had power including dusk and
dawn. So what better way to make himself a part of that ancient tradition than
by watching the sun rise?
But still . . . it was warm in the sleeping bag, and he had sat up very late
waiting or hoping or simply being
he was not certain which. He yawned. Five minutes more.
The sun had already broken the horizon when he woke again. He sat up in the
shadowed tent and cursed himself. For his eyes were burning like fire, and far
away he thought he could make out the last fading call of trumpets. He rushed
from the tent, gazed out into mist-filled space . . . and saw nothing. The
burning faded abruptly, and he suddenly felt very foolish. David yawned and
stretched, yawned again, and crawled back into the tent. When he awoke once
more, it was to Alec kicking him none too gently in p. 35the ribs and
reminding him that Big Billy had a busy day planned for him, and if he wanted
anything to eat, he d better get up right then, or there wouldn t be anything
left.
David sighed resignedly. That was always the way of it. Big Billy always had
something for him to do especially when there was something else he wanted to
do more: to think over the disquieting events of the last day, for instance.
Maybe tonight he d take another look at Bloody Bald.
Small chance, he told himself bitterly; Big Billy would keep him busy right
until dark he always did.
Well, David decided, he d best get up and eat something, see if he could con
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Alec into a morning swim.
It would be the last fun he d have that day, that was for sure.
Chapter III: Music In The Night
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
(Saturday, August 1)
p. 36Uncle Dale Sullivan, whose dead youngest brother had been Big Billy s
father, owned the next farm up the hollow and often just thought he d drop
by his nephew s house around suppertime. Full of pork chops and mashed
potatoes, he and Big Billy were sitting on the side porch that overlooked the
highway, discussing their day s work and watching evening creep into the
valley. The soft clicking of dishes being washed in the kitchen made an almost
musical counterpoint to the rhythmic squeaking of their rockers.
Bone tired from his day s begrudged labor, David slumped out of the kitchen
and flopped down on the concrete steps, where he sat staring vacantly down the
hill. The long, neat rows of glossy corn at the foot stirred in the soft
evening breeze, their froth of tassels pale against the blue-green leaves like
foam on a dirty sea. He could hear the occasional whoosh of a car as it came
around the last curve off the high mountains to the right and accelerated on
the straightaway that split the riverbottom. But he found himself straining
his hearing for other sounds as well sounds he was no longer certain he had
heard. And his eyes tingled almost all the time now. He was still not sure
exactly what he had seen,p. 37or if he had actually seen anything at all. It
was beginning to worry him, though.
Big Billy gestured broadly with a stubby right hand. I swear, Uncle Dale, I
never could see why in the hell
Grandpaw let them put that there highway through the middle of his riverbottom
like that. He took a healthy swig from the can of Miller that sat atop a copy
of
The Progressive Farmer on the floor beside him. No-siree, he continued, if
I had any idea why he done that, I d sure say, but I don t. He was a strange
old feller, so Daddy said.
He was a strange un, all right. Uncle Dale nodded. But he told me he let
them put that road through there cause they wasn t nothin would grow on it
that was worth anything to anybody. He d plant corn or cane, and it d grow up
fine and straight except in that one place he d get mornin glories and sweet
peas that d strangle the life outta the corn either that, or briars.
Always did have trouble with briars down there, Big Billy agreed.
So when the railroad folks come along, he let em follow that route, and the
highway folks come after.
It was the straightest way, anyhow. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
pounded the rock with his fist.
Well, you know, it could have been some kind of mirage or something,
reflecting part of Atlanta onto the mountains, or something like that. I ve
never heard of mirages on a mountain, though.
I ve never heard of castles on mountains in north Georgia, either. All that
cold water must have done something to my eyes.
Alec clapped an arm on his shoulder and shook him gently. No use losing sleep
over, though.
I guess not, David sighed wearily. He stood up, stretched, and yawned. Back
in the tent he flopped down atop his sleeping bag and lay there trying to
think about the magic of Ireland, trying to picture in his mind s eye the
coming of the Tuatha de Danaan. But another image kept intruding in his
thoughts, refusing to give way: the image of a shadowy castle on a
mountaintop.
Sleep claimed David finally, but he awoke again shortly before sunrise to lie
quietly with his face by the door, looking out into the swirls of white mist
awaiting banishment by the sun. A trace of the uncharacteristic coolness
remained in the air, and he snuggled gratefully into his sleeping bag, heard
Alec groan and roll over onto his back.
Yeah, just a couple more minutes and he would get up and watch the sunrise
from his Place of Power. It was the Celtic thing to do, after all. He had
learned that much from the books he d read: The Celts had ordered the year in
certain ways, and certain days and times of day had power including dusk and
dawn. So what better way to make himself a part of that ancient tradition than
by watching the sun rise?
But still . . . it was warm in the sleeping bag, and he had sat up very late
waiting or hoping or simply being
he was not certain which. He yawned. Five minutes more.
The sun had already broken the horizon when he woke again. He sat up in the
shadowed tent and cursed himself. For his eyes were burning like fire, and far
away he thought he could make out the last fading call of trumpets. He rushed
from the tent, gazed out into mist-filled space . . . and saw nothing. The
burning faded abruptly, and he suddenly felt very foolish. David yawned and
stretched, yawned again, and crawled back into the tent. When he awoke once
more, it was to Alec kicking him none too gently in p. 35the ribs and
reminding him that Big Billy had a busy day planned for him, and if he wanted
anything to eat, he d better get up right then, or there wouldn t be anything
left.
David sighed resignedly. That was always the way of it. Big Billy always had
something for him to do especially when there was something else he wanted to
do more: to think over the disquieting events of the last day, for instance.
Maybe tonight he d take another look at Bloody Bald.
Small chance, he told himself bitterly; Big Billy would keep him busy right
until dark he always did.
Well, David decided, he d best get up and eat something, see if he could con
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Alec into a morning swim.
It would be the last fun he d have that day, that was for sure.
Chapter III: Music In The Night
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
(Saturday, August 1)
p. 36Uncle Dale Sullivan, whose dead youngest brother had been Big Billy s
father, owned the next farm up the hollow and often just thought he d drop
by his nephew s house around suppertime. Full of pork chops and mashed
potatoes, he and Big Billy were sitting on the side porch that overlooked the
highway, discussing their day s work and watching evening creep into the
valley. The soft clicking of dishes being washed in the kitchen made an almost
musical counterpoint to the rhythmic squeaking of their rockers.
Bone tired from his day s begrudged labor, David slumped out of the kitchen
and flopped down on the concrete steps, where he sat staring vacantly down the
hill. The long, neat rows of glossy corn at the foot stirred in the soft
evening breeze, their froth of tassels pale against the blue-green leaves like
foam on a dirty sea. He could hear the occasional whoosh of a car as it came
around the last curve off the high mountains to the right and accelerated on
the straightaway that split the riverbottom. But he found himself straining
his hearing for other sounds as well sounds he was no longer certain he had
heard. And his eyes tingled almost all the time now. He was still not sure
exactly what he had seen,p. 37or if he had actually seen anything at all. It
was beginning to worry him, though.
Big Billy gestured broadly with a stubby right hand. I swear, Uncle Dale, I
never could see why in the hell
Grandpaw let them put that there highway through the middle of his riverbottom
like that. He took a healthy swig from the can of Miller that sat atop a copy
of
The Progressive Farmer on the floor beside him. No-siree, he continued, if
I had any idea why he done that, I d sure say, but I don t. He was a strange
old feller, so Daddy said.
He was a strange un, all right. Uncle Dale nodded. But he told me he let
them put that road through there cause they wasn t nothin would grow on it
that was worth anything to anybody. He d plant corn or cane, and it d grow up
fine and straight except in that one place he d get mornin glories and sweet
peas that d strangle the life outta the corn either that, or briars.
Always did have trouble with briars down there, Big Billy agreed.
So when the railroad folks come along, he let em follow that route, and the
highway folks come after.
It was the straightest way, anyhow. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]