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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 60/420
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Seeing
the
boy
scudding
away
at
such
a
rapid
pace
,
he
very
naturally
concluded
him
to
be
the
depredator
;
and
shouting
'
Stop
thief
!
'
with
all
his
might
,
made
off
after
him
,
book
in
hand
.
But
the
old
gentleman
was
not
the
only
person
who
raised
the
hue-and-cry
.
The
Dodger
and
Master
Bates
,
unwilling
to
attract
public
attention
by
running
down
the
open
street
,
had
merely
retured
into
the
very
first
doorway
round
the
corner
.
They
no
sooner
heard
the
cry
,
and
saw
Oliver
running
,
than
,
guessing
exactly
how
the
matter
stood
,
they
issued
forth
with
great
promptitude
;
and
,
shouting
'
Stop
thief
!
'
too
,
joined
in
the
pursuit
like
good
citizens
.
Although
Oliver
had
been
brought
up
by
philosophers
,
he
was
not
theoretically
acquainted
with
the
beautiful
axiom
that
self-preservation
is
the
first
law
of
nature
.
If
he
had
been
,
perhaps
he
would
have
been
prepared
for
this
.
Not
being
prepared
,
however
,
it
alarmed
him
the
more
;
so
away
he
went
like
the
wind
,
with
the
old
gentleman
and
the
two
boys
roaring
and
shouting
behind
him
.
'
Stop
thief
!
Stop
thief
!
'
There
is
a
magic
in
the
sound
.
The
tradesman
leaves
his
counter
,
and
the
car-man
his
waggon
;
the
butcher
throws
down
his
tray
;
the
baker
his
basket
;
the
milkman
his
pail
;
the
errand-boy
his
parcels
;
the
school-boy
his
marbles
;
the
paviour
his
pickaxe
;
the
child
his
battledore
.
Away
they
run
,
pell-mell
,
helter-skelter
,
slap-dash
:
tearing
,
yelling
,
screaming
,
knocking
down
the
passengers
as
they
turn
the
corners
,
rousing
up
the
dogs
,
and
astonishing
the
fowls
:
and
streets
,
squares
,
and
courts
,
re-echo
with
the
sound
.
'
Stop
thief
!
Stop
thief
!
'
The
cry
is
taken
up
by
a
hundred
voices
,
and
the
crowd
accumulate
at
every
turning
.
Away
they
fly
,
splashing
through
the
mud
,
and
rattling
along
the
pavements
:
up
go
the
windows
,
out
run
the
people
,
onward
bear
the
mob
,
a
whole
audience
desert
Punch
in
the
very
thickest
of
the
plot
,
and
,
joining
the
rushing
throng
,
swell
the
shout
,
and
lend
fresh
vigour
to
the
cry
,
'
Stop
thief
!
Stop
thief
!
'
'
Stop
thief
!
Stop
thief
!
'
There
is
a
passion
FOR
HUNTING
SOMETHING
deeply
implanted
in
the
human
breast
.
One
wretched
breathless
child
,
panting
with
exhaustion
;
terror
in
his
looks
;
agony
in
his
eyes
;
large
drops
of
perspiration
streaming
down
his
face
;
strains
every
nerve
to
make
head
upon
his
pursuers
;
and
as
they
follow
on
his
track
,
and
gain
upon
him
every
instant
,
they
hail
his
decreasing
strength
with
joy
.
'
Stop
thief
!
'
Ay
,
stop
him
for
God
's
sake
,
were
it
only
in
mercy
!
Stopped
at
last
!
A
clever
blow
.
He
is
down
upon
the
pavement
;
and
the
crowd
eagerly
gather
round
him
:
each
new
comer
,
jostling
and
struggling
with
the
others
to
catch
a
glimpse
.
'
Stand
aside
!
'
'
Give
him
a
little
air
!
'
'
Nonsense
!
he
do
n't
deserve
it
.
'
'
Where
's
the
gentleman
?
'
'
Here
his
is
,
coming
down
the
street
.
'
'
Make
room
there
for
the
gentleman
!
'
'
Is
this
the
boy
,
sir
!
'
'
Yes
.
'
Oliver
lay
,
covered
with
mud
and
dust
,
and
bleeding
from
the
mouth
,
looking
wildly
round
upon
the
heap
of
faces
that
surrounded
him
,
when
the
old
gentleman
was
officiously
dragged
and
pushed
into
the
circle
by
the
foremost
of
the
pursuers
.
'
Yes
,
'
said
the
gentleman
,
'
I
am
afraid
it
is
the
boy
.
'
