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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 148/416
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The
caps
of
tissue
paper
were
put
on
—
“
Phrygian
Bonnets
,
”
“
Magicians
’
Caps
,
”
“
Liberty
Caps
;
”
the
young
girls
looked
across
the
table
at
their
vis
-
a
-
vis
with
bursts
of
laughter
and
vigorous
clapping
of
the
hands
.
The
harness
room
crowd
had
a
table
to
themselves
,
at
the
head
of
which
sat
Annixter
and
at
the
foot
Harran
.
The
gun
fight
had
sobered
Presley
thoroughly
.
He
sat
by
the
side
of
Vanamee
,
who
ate
but
little
,
preferring
rather
to
watch
the
scene
with
calm
observation
,
a
little
contemptuous
when
the
uproar
around
the
table
was
too
boisterous
,
savouring
of
intoxication
.
Osterman
rolled
bullets
of
bread
and
shot
them
with
astonishing
force
up
and
down
the
table
,
but
the
others
—
Dyke
,
old
Broderson
,
Caraher
,
Harran
Derrick
,
Hooven
,
Cutter
,
Garnett
of
the
Ruby
rancho
,
Keast
from
the
ranch
of
the
same
name
,
Gethings
of
the
San
Pablo
,
and
Chattern
of
the
Bonanza
—
occupied
themselves
with
eating
as
much
as
they
could
before
the
supper
gave
out
.
At
a
corner
of
the
table
,
speechless
,
unobserved
,
ignored
,
sat
Dabney
,
of
whom
nothing
was
known
but
his
name
,
the
silent
old
man
who
made
no
friends
.
He
ate
and
drank
quietly
,
dipping
his
sandwich
in
his
lemonade
.
Osterman
ate
all
the
olives
he
could
lay
his
hands
on
,
a
score
of
them
,
fifty
of
them
,
a
hundred
of
them
.
He
touched
no
crumb
of
anything
else
.
Old
Broderson
stared
at
him
,
his
jaw
fallen
.
Osterman
declared
he
had
once
eaten
a
thousand
on
a
bet
.
The
men
called
each
others
’
attention
to
him
.
Delighted
to
create
a
sensation
,
Osterman
persevered
.
The
contents
of
an
entire
bowl
disappeared
in
his
huge
,
reptilian
slit
of
a
mouth
.
His
cheeks
of
brownish
red
were
extended
,
his
bald
forehead
glistened
.
Colics
seized
upon
him
.
His
stomach
revolted
.
It
was
all
one
with
him
.
He
was
satisfied
,
contented
.
He
was
astonishing
the
people
.
“
Once
I
swallowed
a
tree
toad
.
”
he
told
old
Broderson
,
“
by
mistake
.
I
was
eating
grapes
,
and
the
beggar
lived
in
me
three
weeks
.
In
rainy
weather
he
would
sing
.
You
don
’
t
believe
that
,
”
he
vociferated
.
“
Haven
’
t
I
got
the
toad
at
home
now
in
a
bottle
of
alcohol
.
”
And
the
old
man
,
never
doubting
,
his
eyes
starting
,
wagged
his
head
in
amazement
.
“
Oh
,
yes
,
”
cried
Caraher
,
the
length
of
the
table
,
“
that
’
s
a
pretty
good
one
.
Tell
us
another
.
”
“
That
reminds
me
of
a
story
,
”
hazarded
old
Broderson
uncertainly
;
“
once
when
I
was
a
lad
in
Ukiah
,
fifty
years
.
”
“
Oh
,
yes
,
”
cried
half
a
dozen
voices
,
“
THAT
’
S
a
pretty
good
one
.
Tell
us
another
.
”
“
Eh
—
wh
—
what
?
”
murmured
Broderson
,
looking
about
him
.
“
I
—
I
don
’
t
know
.
It
was
Ukiah
.
You
—
you
—
you
mix
me
all
up
.
”
