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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 384/1581
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"
Tell
me
,
Miss
Taggart
,
what
’
s
going
to
support
a
seven
-
thousand
-
ton
train
on
a
three
-
thousand
-
ton
bridge
?
"
"
My
judgment
,
"
she
answered
.
The
men
of
the
press
,
who
despised
their
own
profession
,
did
not
know
why
they
were
enjoying
it
today
.
One
of
them
,
a
young
man
with
years
of
notorious
success
behind
him
and
a
cynical
look
of
twice
his
age
,
said
suddenly
,
"
I
know
what
I
’
d
like
to
be
:
I
wish
I
could
be
a
man
who
covers
news
!
"
The
hands
of
the
clock
on
the
station
building
stood
at
3
:
45
.
The
crew
started
off
toward
the
caboose
at
the
distant
end
of
the
train
.
The
movement
and
noise
of
the
crowd
were
subsiding
.
Without
conscious
intention
,
people
were
beginning
to
stand
still
.
The
dispatcher
had
received
word
from
every
local
operator
along
the
line
of
rail
that
wound
through
the
mountains
to
the
Wyatt
oil
fields
three
hundred
miles
away
.
He
came
out
of
the
station
building
and
,
looking
at
Dagny
,
gave
the
signal
for
clear
track
ahead
.
Standing
by
the
engine
,
Dagny
raised
her
hand
,
repeating
his
gesture
in
sign
of
an
order
received
and
understood
.
The
long
line
of
boxcars
stretched
off
into
the
distance
,
in
spaced
,
rectangular
links
,
like
a
spinal
cord
.
When
the
conductor
’
s
arm
swept
through
the
air
,
far
at
the
end
,
she
moved
her
arm
in
answering
signal
.
Rearden
,
Logan
and
McKim
stood
silently
,
as
if
at
attention
,
letting
her
be
first
to
get
aboard
.
As
she
started
up
the
rungs
on
the
side
of
the
engine
,
a
reporter
thought
of
a
question
he
had
not
asked
.
"
Miss
Taggart
,
"
he
called
after
her
,
"
who
is
John
Galt
?
"
She
turned
,
hanging
onto
a
metal
bar
with
one
hand
,
suspended
for
an
instant
above
the
heads
of
the
crowd
.
