each other, they ran, struggling through a marshland forest along the bank of a river. The ground was swampy, and Vera ran holding the edge of her very long dark blue skirt.
Looking at her superannuated dress and being clothed himself in a wide shirt and cotton pants, Jeff wondered, «Why are we wearing this?» But another worry pushed this thought aside.
They heard dogs barking behind them, and they knew the hounds had come upon their tracks. They did not have much time.
The thorny branches of the bushes, lianas and brushwood, shrubs and ferns were catching their clothes, making their trail into a nightmare. Every passing yard asked the maximum strain of their decreasing strength.
They had already abandoned the bag with the food and water. A tree branch tore Vera’s blue hat off, but she did not stop. She did not lose even a second of their valuable, diminishing time. She was still running full out, and the chestnut mane of her beautiful hair seemed like wings on her shoulders.
Glimpsing the brave face of his sweetheart with anxiety and helpless compassion, Jeff nevertheless felt sincere veneration. Exhausted, she neither complained nor faltered. She ran as fast as she could, and it was not her fault that the relentless barking was getting closer.
The dying vermilion light of the sunset lit up a glade.
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