? ? ? ? "Queer place, the moor!" said he.
? ? ? ? "But what is it?"
? ? ? ? "The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its prey. I've heard it once or twice before, but never quite so loud."
? ? ? ? I looked round, with a chill of fear in my heart, at the huge swelling plain, mottled with the green patches of rushes. Nothing stirred over the vast expanse save a pair of ravens, which croaked loudly from a tor behind us.
? ? ? ? "You are an educated man. You don't believe such nonsense as that?" said I. "What do you think is the cause of so strange a sound?"
? ? ? ? "Bogs make queer noises sometimes. It's the mud settling, or the water rising, or something."
? ? ? ? "No, no, that was a living voice."
? ? ? ? "Well, perhaps it was. Did you ever hear a bittern booming?"
? ? ? ? "No, I never did."
? ? ? ? "It's a very rare bird -- practically extinct -- in England now, but all things are possible upon the moor.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116