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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 207/416
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“
I
’
ve
just
seen
him
,
”
said
Presley
,
as
he
joined
the
others
.
“
He
was
at
Caraher
’
s
.
I
only
saw
his
back
.
He
was
drinking
at
a
table
and
his
back
was
towards
me
.
But
the
man
looked
broken
—
absolutely
crushed
.
It
is
terrible
,
terrible
.
”
“
He
was
at
Caraher
’
s
,
was
he
?
”
demanded
Annixter
.
“
Yes
.
”
“
Drinking
,
hey
?
”
“
I
think
so
.
Yes
,
I
saw
a
bottle
.
”
“
Drinking
at
Caraher
’
s
,
”
exclaimed
Annixter
,
rancorously
;
“
I
can
see
HIS
finish
.
”
There
was
a
silence
.
It
seemed
as
if
nothing
more
was
to
be
said
.
They
paused
,
looking
thoughtfully
on
the
ground
.
In
silence
,
grim
,
bitter
,
infinitely
sad
,
the
three
men
as
if
at
that
moment
actually
standing
in
the
bar
-
room
of
Caraher
’
s
roadside
saloon
,
contemplated
the
slow
sinking
,
the
inevitable
collapse
and
submerging
of
one
of
their
companions
,
the
wreck
of
a
career
,
the
ruin
of
an
individual
;
an
honest
man
,
strong
,
fearless
,
upright
,
struck
down
by
a
colossal
power
,
perverted
by
an
evil
influence
,
go
reeling
to
his
ruin
.
“
I
see
his
finish
,
”
repeated
Annixter
.
“
Exit
Dyke
,
and
score
another
tally
for
S
.
Behrman
,
Shelgrim
and
Co
.
”
He
moved
away
impatiently
,
loosening
the
tie
-
rope
with
which
the
buckskin
was
fastened
.
He
swung
himself
up
.
