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- Стр. 134/416
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They
edged
their
way
around
the
hall
outside
“
The
Grand
March
,
”
toward
the
harness
room
,
picking
up
on
their
way
Caraher
,
Dyke
,
Hooven
and
old
Broderson
.
Once
in
the
harness
room
,
Annixter
shot
the
bolt
.
“
That
affair
outside
,
”
he
observed
,
“
will
take
care
of
itself
,
but
here
’
s
a
little
orphan
child
that
gets
lonesome
without
company
.
”
Annixter
began
ladling
the
punch
,
filling
the
glasses
.
Osterman
proposed
a
toast
to
Quien
Sabe
and
the
Biggest
Barn
.
Their
elbows
crooked
in
silence
.
Old
Broderson
set
down
his
glass
,
wiping
his
long
beard
and
remarking
:
“
That
—
that
certainly
is
very
—
very
agreeable
.
I
remember
a
punch
I
drank
on
Christmas
day
in
’
83
,
or
no
,
it
was
’
84
—
anyhow
,
that
punch
—
it
was
in
Ukiah
—
’
TWAS
’
83
—
”
He
wandered
on
aimlessly
,
unable
to
stop
his
flow
of
speech
,
losing
himself
in
details
,
involving
his
talk
in
a
hopeless
maze
of
trivialities
to
which
nobody
paid
any
attention
.
“
I
don
’
t
drink
myself
,
”
observed
Dyke
,
“
but
just
a
taste
of
that
with
a
lot
of
water
wouldn
’
t
be
bad
for
the
little
tad
.
She
’
d
think
it
was
lemonade
.
”
He
was
about
to
mix
a
glass
for
Sidney
,
but
thought
better
of
it
at
the
last
moment
.
“
It
’
s
the
chartreuse
that
’
s
lacking
,
”
commented
Caraher
,
lowering
at
Annixter
.
The
other
flared
up
on
the
instant
.
“
Rot
,
rot
.
I
know
better
.
In
some
punches
it
goes
;
and
then
,
again
,
in
others
it
don
’
t
.
”
But
it
was
left
to
Hooven
to
launch
the
successful
phrase
:
“
Gesundheit
,
”
he
exclaimed
,
holding
out
his
second
glass
.
After
drinking
,
he
replaced
it
on
the
table
with
a
long
breath
.
