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Author: langbot
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English[en]
There was, however, another figure in that (formerly) leading jeep. He started waving his arms about and pointing at the driver in a distinctly unfriendly way. Naturally, both of these people were too far away for me to hear what was being said – or even to make out their uniforms – but the body language was pretty clear. The gesticulating one was probably an unhappy officer and the driver was probably just a ‘grunt’. In any event, contrary to common sense, (i.e. to just wait until the engine cooled down and refill the radiator) I saw the ‘grunt’ driver start trudging back along the road towards the base, leaving the ‘officer’ behind (the rest of the convoy having long since passed by.) “What an unreasonable moron that officer must be,” I thought – but gave it no more consideration than that. As I’ve said, the daylight was waning and I had, maybe, 15 minutes to get back to David’s and my little hidey-hole. So, I started climbing, very carefully, back down the derelict and rickety watch-tower. (But I must say that going down was definitely less strenuous than climbing up.) When I neared the bottom, I leapt down the last few feet. I shouldn’t have done that because I fell heavily and, predictably, my legs buckled beneath me once again. But there was no real harm done. I picked myself up and called for David. No response. “Come on, Mate,” I called. “We’ve gotta get back to the tunnel. The soldiers are out looking for us ....” Still no response. “... and it’s getting dark,” I added, hopefully. David was gone. Just gone. Shit! Optimistically, I thought that, maybe, he’d gotten bored and gone back to the tunnel under his own steam. After all, he knew where it was because he’d located it in the first place, while I had been asleep. So, I hastened back to the tunnel and squeezed myself through the entrance. Still no sign of David.
Cornish[kw]
Byttegyns, yth esa figur arall y’n jip (kyns) ow ledya. Ev a dhallathas gwevya y dhiwvregh oll a-dro ha poyntya orth an lywyer yn fordh o poran anhweg. Yth esa an dhew figur re bell a-dhiworthiv, heb mar, rag ow klywes pyth a veu leverys – po rag ow gweles yn kler aga uniforms hogen – mes yeth aga horfow o pur gler. An huni ow kwevya o yn hwirhaval soedhek ha nyns o an lywyer yn hwirhaval saw gwas byghan. Yn neb kas, erbynn skians kemmyn (henn yw leverel, gortos bys pan yeynhasa an jynn hag ena daslenwel an dhewynnell), my a welas an gwas byghan dhe dalleth travalya war fordh troha’n selva, ow kasa an soedhek a-dhelergh dhodho (remenant an rew kertys re’n tremensa nans o termyn hir). “Ass yw boba anresnadow, an soedhek na,” a brederis – mes ny wrugavy ri dhodho konsydrans vyth es henna. Kepar dell leveris, yth esa an howlsplann ow fyllel hag yth esa dhymm, martesen, pymthek mynysenn rag drehedhes kovva Davydh ha my. Ytho, my a dhallathas diyskynna, meur ow rach, an tour deantell ha gesys dhe goll. (Byttegyns, res o dhymm amyttya an diyskynnans dhe vos essa ages an yskynnans.) Pan neshis an ben, my a lammas dhe’n leur. Nyns o henna gwrys da drefenn my dhe goedha yn poes ha, dell waytyes, ow diwarr a omhwelas yn-dannov unnweyth arta. Byttegyns, nyns esa drog sevur ow tos dhiworto. My a sevis yn- bann ha gelwel dhe Dhavydh. Gorthyp vyth. “Deun yn-rag, ‘Vata,” a elwis. “Res yw dehweles dhe’n gowfordh. Yma’n soudoryon orth agan hwilas ...” Hwath gorthyp vyth. “... hag yma an nos ow tos,” yn-medhav, meur ow govenek. Gyllys o Davydh. Gyllys yn tien. Kawgh! Leun o gwaytyans, my a grysis, martesen, y vos skwithys hag ytho ev re dhehwelsa y honan dhe’n gowfordh. Wosa oll, ev a wodhya le mayth esa drefenn ev dh’y gavoes y’n kynsa le, ha my koskys. Ytho my a fistenas rag dehweles dhe’n gowfordh hag omstroetha dre hy forth. Hwath sin vyth a Dhavydh.