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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Стр. 206/317
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"
Well
,
I
don
’
t
think
you
better
walk
all
that
distance
.
You
ride
on
the
truck
.
"
"
No
.
I
’
ll
walk
.
The
guys
wouldn
’
t
like
it
if
I
rode
.
"
"
I
thought
of
that
,
"
said
Mac
.
"
We
’
ll
have
the
pallbearers
ride
too
.
That
’
ll
make
it
all
right
.
We
all
set
,
London
?
"
"
All
set
"
The
coffin
rested
on
the
flat
bed
of
an
old
Dodge
truck
.
On
each
side
of
it
the
bearers
sat
,
hanging
their
legs
over
.
And
Jim
rode
hanging
his
feet
over
the
rear
.
The
motor
throbbed
and
coughed
,
Albert
Johnson
drove
out
of
the
park
and
stopped
in
the
road
until
the
line
formed
,
about
eight
men
to
a
file
.
Then
he
dropped
into
low
gear
and
moved
slowly
along
the
road
,
and
the
long
line
of
men
shuffled
after
him
.
The
hundred
guards
stood
in
the
camp
and
watched
the
parade
move
away
.
At
first
the
men
tried
to
keep
step
,
saying
,
"
Hep
,
hep
,
"
but
they
tired
of
it
soon
.
Their
feet
scuffed
and
dragged
on
the
gravel
road
.
A
little
hum
of
talk
came
from
them
,
but
each
man
was
constrained
to
speak
softly
,
in
honor
to
the
coffin
.
At
the
concrete
state
highway
the
speed
cops
were
waiting
,
a
dozen
of
them
on
motorcycles
.
Their
captain
,
in
a
roadster
,
shouted
,
"
We
’
re
not
interfering
with
you
men
.
We
always
conduct
parades
.
"
The
feet
sounded
sharply
on
the
concrete
.
The
ranks
straggled
along
in
disorder
.
Only
when
they
reached
the
outskirts
of
the
town
did
the
men
straighten
up
.
In
the
yards
and
on
the
sidewalks
the
people
stood
and
watched
the
procession
go
by
.
Many
took
off
their
hats
to
the
casket
.
But
Mac
’
s
wish
was
denied
.
At
each
corner
of
the
line
of
march
the
police
stood
,
re
-
routing
the
traffic
,
turning
it
aside
,
and
opening
the
way
for
the
funeral
.
As
they
entered
the
business
district
of
Torgas
the
sun
broke
through
and
glittered
on
the
wet
streets
.
The
damp
clothes
of
the
marching
men
steamed
under
the
sudden
warmth
.
Now
the
sidewalks
were
dense
with
curious
people
,
staring
at
the
coffin
;
and
the
marchers
straightened
up
.
The
squads
drew
close
together
.
The
men
fell
into
step
,
while
their
faces
took
on
expressions
of
importance
.
No
one
interfered
,
and
the
road
was
kept
clear
of
vehicles
.
Behind
the
truck
,
they
marched
through
the
town
,
through
the
thinning
town
again
,
and
out
into
the
country
,
toward
the
county
cemetery
.
About
a
mile
out
they
came
to
it
,
weed
-
grown
and
small
.
Over
the
new
graves
were
little
galvanized
posts
,
stamped
with
names
and
dates
.
At
the
back
of
the
lot
a
pile
of
new
,
wet
dirt
was
heaped
.
The
truck
stopped
at
the
gate
.
The
bearers
climbed
down
and
took
the
casket
on
their
forearms
again
.
In
the
road
the
traffic
cops
rested
their
machines
and
stood
waiting
.
Albert
Johnson
took
two
lengths
of
tow
-
rope
from
under
his
seat
and
followed
the
bearers
.
The
crowd
broke
ranks
and
followed
.
Jim
jumped
down
from
the
truck
and
started
to
join
the
crowd
,
but
Mac
caught
him
.
"
Let
them
do
it
now
;
the
main
thing
was
the
march
.
We
’
ll
wait
here
.
"
A
young
man
with
red
hair
strolled
through
the
cemetery
gate
and
approached
.
"
Know
a
guy
they
call
Mac
?
"
he
asked
.
