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- Джон Стейнбек
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Now
that
the
fury
was
past
,
the
strikers
were
sick
,
poisoned
by
the
flow
from
their
own
anger
glands
.
They
were
weak
;
one
man
held
his
head
between
his
hands
as
though
it
ached
terribly
.
Suddenly
a
man
went
spinning
around
and
around
,
croaking
.
A
rifle
-
crack
sounded
from
down
the
row
.
Five
men
came
running
along
,
stopping
to
fire
now
and
then
.
The
strikers
broke
and
ran
,
dodging
among
the
trees
to
be
out
of
the
line
of
fire
.
Jim
ran
with
them
.
He
was
crying
to
himself
,
"
Can
’
t
stand
fire
.
We
can
’
t
stand
fire
.
"
The
tears
blinded
him
.
He
felt
a
heavy
blow
on
the
shoulder
and
stumbled
a
little
.
The
group
reached
the
road
and
plunged
on
,
looking
back
over
their
shoulders
.
Sam
was
behind
them
,
running
beside
Jim
.
"
O
.
K
.
,
"
he
shouted
.
"
They
stopped
.
"
Still
some
of
the
men
ran
on
in
a
blind
panic
,
ran
on
and
disappeared
at
the
road
intersection
.
Sam
caught
the
rest
.
"
Settle
down
,
"
he
shouted
.
"
Settle
down
.
Nobody
’
s
chasin
’
you
.
"
They
came
to
a
stop
.
They
stood
weakly
at
the
side
of
the
road
.
"
How
many
’
d
they
get
?
"
Sam
demanded
.
The
men
looked
at
one
another
.
Jim
said
,
"
I
only
saw
one
guy
hit
.
"
"
O
.
K
.
He
’
ll
be
all
right
,
maybe
.
Got
him
in
the
chest
.
"
He
looked
more
closely
at
Jim
.
"
What
’
s
the
matter
with
you
,
kid
?
You
’
re
bleedin
’
.
"
"
Where
?
"
"
All
down
your
back
.
"
"
I
ran
into
a
limb
,
I
guess
.
"
"
Limb
,
hell
.
"
Sam
pulled
the
blue
denim
coat
down
from
Jim
’
s
shoulder
.
"
You
got
bored
with
a
high
-
power
.
Can
you
move
your
arm
?
"
"
Sure
.
It
just
feels
numb
.
"
