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- Джон Стейнбек
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"
You
’
ll
get
steamed
up
enough
,
"
said
Mac
.
"
Tell
’
em
this
little
guy
died
for
’
em
.
And
if
he
could
do
that
they
can
at
least
fight
for
themselves
.
"
"
I
never
made
no
speeches
much
,
"
London
complained
.
"
Well
,
don
’
t
make
a
speech
.
Just
talk
to
the
guys
.
You
done
that
often
enough
.
Just
tell
’
em
.
That
’
s
better
’
n
a
speech
,
anyway
.
"
"
Oh
.
Like
that
.
O
.
K
.
"
Mac
turned
to
the
girl
.
"
How
’
s
the
kid
?
"
She
blushed
and
pulled
the
blanket
closer
over
her
shoulders
.
Her
lashes
shadowed
her
cheeks
.
"
Pretty
good
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
He
don
’
t
cry
none
.
"
The
tent
-
flap
jerked
open
and
the
doctor
entered
,
his
quick
,
brusque
movements
at
variance
with
the
sad
,
doglike
eyes
.
"
I
’
m
going
over
to
see
young
Anderson
,
Mac
,
"
he
said
.
"
Want
to
come
?
"
"
Sure
I
do
,
Doc
.
"
And
to
London
,
"
Did
you
send
the
guys
over
to
guard
Anderson
’
s
place
?
"
"
Yeah
.
They
didn
’
t
want
to
go
none
,
but
I
sent
’
em
.
"
"
All
right
.
Let
’
s
go
,
Doc
.
Come
on
,
Jim
,
if
you
can
make
it
.
"
"
I
feel
all
right
,
"
said
Jim
.
