-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Норрис
-
- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
-
- Стр. 204/416
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
With
the
limpness
and
inertia
of
a
sack
of
sand
,
the
reins
slipping
loosely
in
his
dangling
fingers
,
his
eyes
fixed
,
staring
between
the
horses
’
heads
,
he
allowed
himself
to
be
carried
aimlessly
along
.
He
resigned
himself
.
What
did
he
care
?
What
was
the
use
of
going
on
?
He
was
stuck
.
The
team
he
was
driving
had
once
belonged
to
the
Los
Muertos
stables
and
unguided
as
the
horses
were
,
they
took
the
county
road
towards
Derrick
’
s
ranch
house
.
Dyke
,
all
abroad
,
was
unaware
of
the
fact
till
,
drawn
by
the
smell
of
water
,
the
horses
halted
by
the
trough
in
front
of
Caraher
’
s
saloon
.
The
ex
-
engineer
dismounted
,
looking
about
him
,
realising
where
he
was
.
So
much
the
worse
;
it
did
not
matter
.
Now
that
he
had
come
so
far
it
was
as
short
to
go
home
by
this
route
as
to
return
on
his
tracks
.
Slowly
he
unchecked
the
horses
and
stood
at
their
heads
,
watching
them
drink
.
“
I
don
’
t
see
,
”
he
muttered
,
“
just
what
I
am
going
to
do
.
”
Caraher
appeared
at
the
door
of
his
place
,
his
red
face
,
red
beard
,
and
flaming
cravat
standing
sharply
out
from
the
shadow
of
the
doorway
.
He
called
a
welcome
to
Dyke
.
“
Hello
,
Captain
.
”
Dyke
looked
up
,
nodding
his
head
listlessly
.
“
Hello
,
Caraher
,
”
he
answered
.
“
Well
,
”
continued
the
saloonkeeper
,
coming
forward
a
step
,
“
what
’
s
the
news
in
town
?
”
Dyke
told
him
.
Caraher
’
s
red
face
suddenly
took
on
a
darker
colour
.
The
red
glint
in
his
eyes
shot
from
under
his
eyebrows
.
Furious
,
he
vented
a
rolling
explosion
of
oaths
.
