Сердца трех / Hearts of three. Уровень 3

They ran toward the woman. They saw Francis, who was rowing. The next moment, one of the tree men on the beach, an elderly man with a beard, was directing the girl’s binoculars on him. And the moment after, he was taking aim with his rifle[21 - he was taking aim with his rifle – он целился из ружья].

The bullet spat on the water within a yard of the skiff’s side. The girl sprang to her feet, knocked up the rifle with her arm, and spoiled the second shot. She was threatening the men with the revolver.

“Cayenne pepper, those damned, horrible, crazy Solanos,” the captain said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Francis agreed.

After breakfast Francis landed to reconnoiter on the Bull[22 - to reconnoiter on the Bull – исследовать остров Быка]. He found that was not merely thirty degrees of latitude from New York but thirty hundred years, or centuries. Nearly naked, armed with machetes[23 - machetes – мачете, большой широкий нож], the Indians told him that the Bull belonged to them.

But there lives a madly impossible Gringo[24 - Gringo – гринго (иностранец, слово используется для обозначения жителей Америки и Европы)].

Francis decided to meet the mysterious Gringo. He came down to the beach. On the shore, he saw a barefooted young man in the canvas trousers. That Gringo was standing behind a palm. The man had an automatic pistol in hand, and shouted:

“Get out!”

“I beg you pardon?” Francis grinned.

“Nobody invited you,” the stranger retorted. “You’re intruding. Get off my island. I’ll give you half a minute.”

Francis went behind the trunk. Suddenly a bullet thudded into the other side of it. Francis centered a bullet into the trunk of the other man’s palm. The next few minutes they were shooting each other.

“What gun are you using?” Francis asked.

“Colt’s,” came the answer.

Francis stepped boldly into the open:

“Then you don’t have bullets any more.

I counted them. Eight. Now we can talk.”

The stranger stepped out. He looked like Francis himself. It was a replica of himself!

“Talk!” the stranger sneered. He threw down his pistol and drew a knife. “Now I’ll cut off your ears, and maybe scalp you.”

“Let’s wrestle,” Francis retorted

“I want your ears,” the stranger answered pleasantly.

“Sure.