What was in the reeds. Chapter 8

So it all and went to the most, we can say, desperate and miserable of my adventures over the years. Once Loew told me that in the evening they all crowd into the reeds go on waiting in ambush for wild boars, and if I want them, then we do not mind. How could I not want. Hunting is serious, not that innocent birds collide.

Went down the canal on two canoes, and this mug, I mean Oleg, too, had come with us. Guys curled, but do nothing. Told him just to close to Sergei, to me that is, holding out. Do not confuse that under my feet, I mean.

Climbed still light — with one canoe on the left, the other on the right bank. I was the one on the right. Had agreed to meet at the boat at midnight, the first to come back, give the signal — three shots at an interval of ten seconds, for the guidance of others.

Went into the reeds. I got the farthest from the channel is numbered, for me Oleg stumbled excitedly nozzles. I left it on the burnt clearing of reeds, and he shuffled on. Walked another hundred yards, but there already reeds stood like a wall, and open space is small, boar slip — and do not have time to blink. Again I matyuknul this bonehead, because of which all my misfortunes. Even the good he had to give up waiting in ambush.

 

Do nothing, threw Koopa reeds, nestled on her several times raised his gun and took the barrel, trying to figure out where you may receive a wild boar and how to shoot in different ways. Froze. If anyone been on waiting in ambush, to explain to him how this tedious thing useless. Boar — the animal is incredibly sensitive, shevelneshsya wrong time, and he went through the swamp of Drilling like a torpedo, and you can go to drink tea. Look at the clock — the last thing the arrows completely refuse to move. The main thing is your occupation — sift marsh sounds, hoping to hear at last, as the boar leg interchanges, Smack, Smack, Smack, and sometimes hryuknet, getting in the mud its delicacy — Caltrop chilim. He is in this delicious shrimp meat here fattens although no shrink, no fish, no snake, no frogs, no carrion, or other people and their own kids.

As it was getting dark, began to rise from the reeds ducks, flying clouds, and, unfortunately, before the low, though the barrel of their ass beat, but to shoot — no, no, because you can scare all boars. However, all of a diversion. Then he settled down and duck, only occasionally vskryakivali, then away, then quite close to shiver as much chance. Other nocturnal birds also cast a vote, but rarely. Somewhere crying jackal-mewed and soon stopped. Became more wearisome, his body stiff and stir excitement does not. Late some almost-dead mosquito began to ring in my ear, and it had to endure.

I waited and waited, and waited. About ten o'clock on my left, on the side, where he stayed Oleg, I heard steps splashed through the puddles, does not look like a wild boar, but at that moment nothing else thought. Heart immediately zamolotilo, ears buzzed, nerves taut before ringing — not enough to hand trembled. No, it will not work. I firmly stretched lips half-smile of the Buddha — well, well, fun, fun — and the nerves came in relative order. Tense, but without a quiver. I listened and looked, listened to all the fibers, no worse than a wild boar, but did not see anything — left corner prevented protruding reeds — and then did not hear. Spanking stopped. One can see wild boar something smelled or heard — they are rubbing on the shirt body trap — and stopped. At any moment the beast could to throw into the trees, and I could not resist, posunulsya, peering over the reeds, he saw twenty paces on the edge of the narrow pools of low swift shadow and already shooting, somehow simultaneously realized two things: that this shadow — no boar, and jackal, and that I was hopelessly smear.

Sure. At the time of the shot like jackals disappeared, as if it had never been there ever, and I was shooting in an empty space, charge only shaken up the dirt. But then I was somehow not up to it, because I do not have time to subside my thunder Gromoboya as aloof slammed another shot, and a little above my head the reeds lashed buckshot. I did not have time to think, as we sprawled on the coupe reed on which sat before, and exactly on time: waiting in ambush by Oleg thumped another shot, again tapped the reeds buckshot already lower, and the right thigh ozhglo something.

I lay still, his nose buried in a rush, and prayed feverishly about one thing: Well, go, go here, creature, go check, alive or not I'll see how I vsazhu in you, all four of the charge, which remained in the store. But to himself, I knew he would not go anywhere. It's one thing palnut afar the sound, and quite another — to go conceal another shooter, who slapped you with gusto ambush charge into the belly, and rest in peace, dear friend. Such episodes automatically pass like an accident — he will be to blame, because they do not have the right to go to the room to the end of the hunt. And I will not judge.

So I was lying face down, turning over in my head any such thoughts and gasping at times of tidal fury. Well, you bastard, it is necessary, so much hate accumulate and so mean podsidet. Well, let me just go back to camp, I'm from a scumbag do. Izmochalyu bastard to bloody diarrhea.

Minute after minute went around all was quiet, and I cooled down a bit. Maybe he thought I was shooting at him? Oh nonsense, I'll have seen all of my charge is shaken up in a puddle of mud. I almost shot from the height growth in the ground, the shot is safe, and no kartechina at him could not fly. Maybe there jackal shied, and he shot him? Again, nonsense, both of his charge were at the height of a man. So no jackal, nor any other animal not shoot. Needless this mess smudge fired it at me, and one question only — heat of the moment or long planned, and, therefore, had come with us into the reeds, where he was doing well, absolutely nothing … Very, very similar to the second. Exactly. Hunting accident — best not to think of ways to udelat someone. If popodlee all think, no law will be selected for you will not.

Somewhere in the distance on the other side hurried bass thumped two shots, a few seconds later, another one. It seems Levkina pyatizaryadka — it is exactly the same as mine. Lev guy serious, certainly took a wild boar. Especially this third shot, after a pause, eloquent: I suppose, lying sought.

The band are now likely to begin to catch up with Loewe, drag the carcass to the boat. And time really half past ten, time to start out of here. Just me, what to do? Come ashore path through Oleg waiting in ambush, as here come from? What if this bastard out there lurking in the reeds and just waiting for me to come closer — that surely lay, to bring the accident to the end? Go away because it is now, for the firing on me to answer, and he knows it and run away will not risk. Try its very skrast? Damn thing will not work: no noise in the reeds do not pass, and in the open moon highlights. Target of me that is necessary.

It turned out, only one solution: to break through solid reeds, leaving Oleg waiting in ambush on the far right, and so, slant, go to the channel. Even if the boat at that time are gone, along the canal, I can always get to the camp. Brest, however, have dolgonko. Well, not the first time.

Slowly, slowly, so God forbid not cracked cane, I got up, looked around. Just from the place where I made myself waiting in ambush, goes into something like reeds boar trails — or rather, a narrow passage in the dense undergrowth. The trail, however, led many to the left of my desired destination. Well, never mind, probably will fall another, transverse. Then I turn right to the channel.

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