Смешные рассказы / The Funny Stories

”

“Red Chief,” I said to the kid, “would you like to go home?”

“Aw, what for?” said he. “I don't have any fun at home. I hate to go to school. I like to camp. You won't take me back home, Snake-eye?”

“Not right now, we'll stay here for a while[8 - for a while – некоторое время].”

“All right!” said he. “That'll be fine. I never had such fun in all my life.”

We went to bed about eleven o'clock. We lay down on wide blankets and put Red Chief between us. We weren't afraid he'd run away. He kept us awake for three hours, jumping up and screaming.

At last, I fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamed that I was kidnapped and chained to a tree by a pirate with red hair.

2. Good morning

In the morning I was awakened by Bill's screams. They weren't yells, or shouts, such as you'd expect from a man – they were simply humiliating screams, such as women make when they see ghosts or caterpillars. It's an awful thing to hear a strong, fat man scream in a cave at daybreak.

I jumped up to see what the matter was.

Red Chief was sitting on Bill's chest, with one hand in Bill's hair. In the other he had the sharp knife we used for slicing bacon; and he was really trying to take Bill's scalp.

I got the knife away from the kid and told him to lie down again. But, from that moment, Bill's spirit was broken. I slept for some time, but soon I remembered that Red Chief said he was going to burn me at the stake at the rising of the sun. I wasn't afraid, but I sat up and lit my pipe.

“Why did you get up so early, Sam?” asked Bill.

“Oh, I have got a pain in my shoulder.”

“You're a liar!” says Bill. “You're afraid. He said he will burn you at a stake and you are afraid he'll do it. And he would, if he finds a match. Isn't it awful, Sam? Do you think anybody will pay money to get a little devil like that back home?”

“Sure,” said I. “Now, you and the Chief get up and cook breakfast, and I will go up on the top of this mountain.”

I went up on the peak of the little mountain and looked over the surroundings.

I expected to see the dozens of villagers armed with scythes and pitchforks and looking for the kidnappers. But I saw a peaceful landscape with one man ploughing with a mule. “Perhaps,” said I to myself, “they didn't find out that the boy was kidnapped.”

When I got to the cave I found Bill backed up against the side of it, breathing hard, and the boy threatening to smash him with a rock half as big as a coconut.