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- Джон Стейнбек
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"
No
.
You
can
’
t
have
it
.
"
"
You
men
shot
a
strike
-
breaker
.
We
’
ll
bring
the
charge
.
I
want
that
body
for
the
coroner
.
"
London
’
s
eyes
glowed
redly
.
He
said
simply
,
"
Mister
,
you
know
the
guys
that
killed
this
little
man
;
you
know
who
did
it
.
You
got
laws
and
you
don
’
t
keep
’
em
.
"
The
mob
was
silent
,
listening
.
"
I
tell
you
,
I
want
that
body
.
"
London
said
plaintively
,
"
Can
’
t
you
see
,
mister
?
If
you
guys
don
’
t
get
the
hell
out
of
here
,
can
’
t
you
see
you
’
re
goin
’
get
killed
?
Can
’
t
you
see
that
,
mister
?
Don
’
t
you
know
when
you
can
’
t
go
no
further
?
"
From
the
mob
there
came
a
rustle
of
released
breath
.
The
sheriff
said
,
"
I
’
m
not
through
with
you
,
"
but
he
backed
away
,
and
his
deputies
backed
away
.
The
mob
growled
,
so
softly
that
it
sounded
like
a
moan
.
London
set
Joy
over
the
tailboard
of
the
truck
,
and
he
climbed
in
and
lifted
the
body
forward
,
until
it
leaned
against
the
back
of
the
cab
.
Dakin
started
his
motor
and
backed
around
and
rolled
along
the
street
,
and
the
dull
,
menacing
mob
fell
in
behind
.
They
made
no
noise
.
They
walked
with
heavy
,
padding
footsteps
.
No
motorcycle
police
lined
the
road
.
The
streets
and
the
roads
were
deserted
on
their
line
of
march
.
Mac
and
Jim
walked
a
little
to
one
side
of
the
truck
.
"
Was
it
vigilantes
,
Mac
?
"
"
Yep
.
But
they
overdid
it
this
time
.
Everything
went
wrong
for
them
.
That
steam
—
if
our
guys
could
’
ve
heard
the
shooting
better
,
they
’
d
probably
have
run
away
.
But
the
steam
was
too
loud
.
It
was
over
too
soon
;
our
guys
didn
’
t
have
a
chance
to
get
scared
.
No
,
they
made
a
mistake
.
"
They
trudged
slowly
along
,
beside
the
column
of
marching
men
.
"
Mac
,
who
in
hell
are
these
vigilantes
,
anyway
?
What
kind
of
guys
are
they
?
"
