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- Джон Стейнбек
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"
He
fought
for
you
.
Are
you
going
to
forget
him
?
"
"
No
-
o
-
o
.
"
"
We
’
re
going
to
march
through
town
.
You
going
to
let
any
damn
cops
stop
us
?
"
The
heavy
roar
,
"
No
-
oo
.
"
The
crowd
swayed
in
the
rhythm
.
They
poised
for
the
next
response
.
Mac
broke
the
rhythm
,
and
the
break
jarred
them
.
He
said
quietly
,
"
This
little
guy
is
the
spirit
of
all
of
us
.
We
won
’
t
pray
for
him
.
He
don
’
t
need
prayers
.
And
we
don
’
t
need
prayers
.
We
need
clubs
!
"
Hungrily
the
crowd
tried
to
restore
the
rhythm
.
"
Clubs
,
"
they
said
.
"
Clubs
.
"
And
then
they
waited
in
silence
.
"
O
.
K
.
,
"
Mac
said
shortly
.
"
We
’
re
going
to
throw
the
dirty
radical
in
the
mud
,
but
he
’
s
going
to
stay
with
us
,
too
.
God
help
anybody
that
tries
to
stop
us
.
"
Suddenly
he
got
down
from
the
platform
,
leaving
the
crowd
hungry
and
irritated
.
Eyes
looked
wondering
into
other
eyes
.
London
climbed
down
from
the
platform
.
He
said
to
the
bearers
,
"
Put
him
in
Albert
Johnson
’
s
truck
.
We
’
ll
get
goin
’
in
a
few
minutes
now
.
"
He
followed
Mac
,
who
was
working
his
way
out
of
the
crowd
.
Dr
.
Burton
fell
in
beside
Mac
when
he
was
clear
of
the
bunched
people
.
"
You
surely
know
how
to
work
them
,
Mac
,
"
he
said
quietly
.
"
No
preacher
ever
brought
people
to
the
mourners
’
bench
quicker
.
Why
didn
’
t
you
keep
it
up
awhile
?
You
’
d
’
ve
had
them
talking
in
tongues
and
holy
-
rolling
in
a
minute
.
"
Mac
said
irritably
,
"
Quit
sniping
at
me
,
Doc
.
I
’
ve
got
a
job
to
do
,
and
I
’
ve
got
to
use
every
means
to
do
it
.
"
