Treasure Island
The First Blow
I WAS so pleased at having the to Long John that I to myself and look around me with some on the land that I was in.
I had a full of willows, bulrushes, and odd, outlandish, trees; and I had now come out upon the skirts of an open piece of undulating, country, about a mile long, with a and a great number of trees, not the in growth, but in the foliage, like willows. On the of the open one of the hills, with two quaint, in the sun.
I now for the time the of exploration. The was uninhabited; my I had left behind, and nothing in of me but and fowls. I and among the trees. Here and there were plants, unknown to me; here and there I saw snakes, and one his from a of and at me with a noise not the of a top. Little did I that he was a enemy and that the noise was the famous rattle.
Then I came to a long of these trees—live, or evergreen, oaks, I they should be called—which low along the like brambles, the twisted, the compact, like thatch. The from the top of one of the knolls, and as it went, until it the of the broad, reedy fen, through which the nearest of the little its way into the anchorage. The was in the sun, and the of the Spy-glass through the haze.
All at once there to go a of among the bulrushes; a wild up with a quack, another followed, and soon over the whole surface of the a great cloud of and in the air. I at once that some of my must be near along the borders of the fen. Nor was I deceived, for soon I the very and low of a voice, which, as I to give ear, louder and nearer.
This put me in a great fear, and I under of the nearest live-oak and there, hearkening, as as a mouse.
Another voice answered, and then the voice, which I now to be Silver’s, once more took up the and ran on for a long while in a stream, only now and again by the other. By the they must have been talking earnestly, and almost fiercely; but no word came to my hearing.
At last the speakers to have paused and to have sat down, for not only did they to any nearer, but the themselves to more and to settle again to their places in the swamp.
And now I to that I was my business, that since I had been so as to come with these desperadoes, the least I do was to them at their councils, and that my plain and was to as close as I manage, under the of the trees.
I tell the direction of the speakers exactly, not only by the of their voices but by the of the that still in above the of the intruders.
Crawling on all fours, I but slowly them, till at last, my to an among the leaves, I see clear into a little green the marsh, and closely set about with trees, where Long John Silver and another of the to in conversation.
The sun full upon them. Silver had his him on the ground, and his great, smooth, face, all with heat, was to the other man’s in a of appeal.
“Mate,” he was saying, “it’s I thinks gold of you—gold dust, and you may to that! If I hadn’t took to you like pitch, do you think I’d have been here a-warning of you? All’s up—you can’t make mend; it’s to save your that I’m a-speaking, and if one of the wild it, where’d I be, Tom—now, tell me, where’d I be?”
“Silver,” said the other man—and I he was not only red in the face, but spoke as as a crow, and his voice too, like a rope—“Silver,” says he, “you’re old, and you’re honest, or has the name for it; and you’ve money too, which of hasn’t; and you’re brave, or I’m mistook. And will you tell me you’ll let be away with that of a of swabs? Not you! As sure as God sees me, I’d sooner my hand. If I turn my dooty—”
And then all of a he was by a noise. I had one of the hands—well, here, at that same moment, came news of another. Far away out in the there arose, all of a sudden, a like the of anger, then another on the of it; and then one horrid, long-drawn scream. The of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a score of times; the whole of marsh-birds rose again, heaven, with a whirr; and long after that death was still in my brain, had re-established its empire, and only the of the redescending and the of the the of the afternoon.
Tom had at the sound, like a at the spur, but Silver had not an eye. He where he was, on his crutch, his like a about to spring.
“John!” said the sailor, out his hand.
“Hands off!” Silver, a yard, as it to me, with the speed and security of a gymnast.
“Hands off, if you like, John Silver,” said the other. “It’s a black that can make you of me. But in heaven’s name, tell me, what was that?”
“That?” returned Silver, away, but than ever, his a pin-point in his big face, but like a of glass. “That? Oh, I reckon that’ll be Alan.”
And at this point Tom out like a hero.
“Alan!” he cried. “Then his for a true seaman! And as for you, John Silver, long you’ve been a of mine, but you’re of mine no more. If I die like a dog, I’ll die in my dooty. You’ve killed Alan, have you? Kill me too, if you can. But I you.”
And with that, this his directly on the cook and set off walking for the beach. But he was not to go far. With a John the branch of a tree, the out of his armpit, and sent that through the air. It Tom, point foremost, and with violence, right the in the middle of his back. His hands up, he gave a of gasp, and fell.
Whether he were much or little, none tell. Like enough, to judge from the sound, his was on the spot. But he had no time him to recover. Silver, as a monkey without leg or crutch, was on the top of him next moment and had twice his knife up to the in that body. From my place of ambush, I him as he the blows.
I do not know what it is to faint, but I do know that for the next little while the whole world away from me in a mist; Silver and the birds, and the tall Spy-glass hilltop, going and and topsy-turvy my eyes, and all manner of and voices in my ear.
When I came again to myself the had himself together, his under his arm, his upon his head. Just him Tom upon the sward; but the him not a whit, his blood-stained knife the while upon a of grass. Everything else was unchanged, the sun still on the and the tall of the mountain, and I myself that had been actually done and a life cut a moment since my eyes.
But now John put his hand into his pocket, out a whistle, and upon it that across the air. I not tell, of course, the meaning of the signal, but it my fears. More men would be coming. I might be discovered. They had already two of the people; after Tom and Alan, might not I come next?
Instantly I to myself and again, with what speed and I manage, to the more open of the wood. As I did so, I and going the old and his comrades, and this of me wings. As soon as I was clear of the thicket, I ran as I ran before, the direction of my flight, so long as it me from the murderers; and as I ran, and upon me until it into a of frenzy.
Indeed, anyone be more than I? When the gun fired, how should I to go to the among those fiends, still from their crime? Would not the of them who saw me my like a snipe’s? Would not my itself be an to them of my alarm, and therefore of my knowledge? It was all over, I thought. Good-bye to the Hispaniola; good-bye to the squire, the doctor, and the captain! There was nothing left for me but death by or death by the hands of the mutineers.
All this while, as I say, I was still running, and without taking any notice, I had near to the of the little hill with the two and had got into a part of the where the live-oaks more and more like trees in their and dimensions. Mingled with these were a pines, some fifty, some nearer seventy, high. The air too more than the marsh.
And here a fresh me to a with a heart.
