the polish rider

the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
The Virgin and Child with St Anne
There was a hint, just a slight hint, of physical feebleness in his voice, and it was so strange that I looked quickly at him. His hand was sweeping nervously across his face, as though he were brushing away cobwebs. I was puzzled- the whole thing was so unlike the Wolf Larsen I had known. ¡¡¡¡'How are your headaches?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'They still trouble me,' was his answer. 'I think I have one coming on now.' ¡¡¡¡He slipped down from his sitting posture till he lay on the deck. Then he rolled over on his side, his head resting on the biceps
oil paintingsof the underarm, the forearm shielding his eyes from the sun. I stood regarding him wonderingly. ¡¡¡¡'Now's your chance, Hump,' he said. ¡¡¡¡'I don't understand,' I lied, for I thoroughly understood. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, nothing,' he added softly, as if he were drowsing; 'only you've got me where you want me.' ¡¡¡¡'No, I haven't,' I retorted; 'for I want you a few thousand miles away from here.' ¡¡¡¡He chuckled, and thereafter spoke no more. He did not stir as I passed by him and went down into the cabin. I lifted the trap in the floor, but for some moments