短篇小说

It was very jolly. We talked for a long time. Like all Greeks he wanted to go to America.

At the lake shore there was another rowboat drawn up. The two Indians stood waiting.

The funicular car bucked once more and then stopped. It could not go further, the snow drifted solidly across the track.

There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room.

In the morning the sun was up and the tent was starting to get hot. Nick crawled out under the mosquito netting stretched across the mouth of the tent, to look at the morning.

The train went on up the track out of sight, around one of the hills of burnt timber. Nick sat down on the bundle of canvas and bedding the baggage man had pitched out of the door of the baggage car.

One hot evening in Padua they carried him up onto the roof and he could look out over the top of the town. There were chimney swifts in the sky.