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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 214/416
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By
now
,
Presley
could
not
tell
whether
what
he
had
written
was
true
poetry
or
doggerel
.
He
distrusted
profoundly
his
own
judgment
.
He
must
have
the
opinion
of
some
one
else
,
some
one
competent
to
judge
.
He
could
not
wait
;
to
-
morrow
would
not
do
.
He
must
know
to
a
certainty
before
he
could
rest
that
night
.
He
made
a
careful
copy
of
what
he
had
written
,
and
putting
on
his
hat
and
laced
boots
,
went
down
stairs
and
out
upon
the
lawn
,
crossing
over
to
the
stables
.
He
found
Phelps
there
,
washing
down
the
buckboard
.
“
Do
you
know
where
Vanamee
is
to
-
day
?
”
he
asked
the
latter
.
Phelps
put
his
chin
in
the
air
.
“
Ask
me
something
easy
,
”
he
responded
.
“
He
might
be
at
Guadalajara
,
or
he
might
be
up
at
Osterman
’
s
,
or
he
might
be
a
hundred
miles
away
from
either
place
.
I
know
where
he
ought
to
be
,
Mr
.
Presley
,
but
that
ain
’
t
saying
where
the
crazy
gesabe
is
.
He
OUGHT
to
be
range
-
riding
over
east
of
Four
,
at
the
head
waters
of
Mission
Creek
.
”
“
I
’
ll
try
for
him
there
,
at
all
events
,
”
answered
Presley
.
“
If
you
see
Harran
when
he
comes
in
,
tell
him
I
may
not
be
back
in
time
for
supper
.
”
Presley
found
the
pony
in
the
corral
,
cinched
the
saddle
upon
him
,
and
went
off
over
the
Lower
Road
,
going
eastward
at
a
brisk
canter
.
At
Hooven
’
s
he
called
a
“
How
do
you
do
”
to
Minna
,
whom
he
saw
lying
in
a
slat
hammock
under
the
mammoth
live
oak
,
her
foot
in
bandages
;
and
then
galloped
on
over
the
bridge
across
the
irrigating
ditch
,
wondering
vaguely
what
would
become
of
such
a
pretty
girl
as
Minna
,
and
if
in
the
end
she
would
marry
the
Portuguese
foreman
in
charge
of
the
ditching
-
gang
.
He
told
himself
that
he
hoped
she
would
,
and
that
speedily
.
There
was
no
lack
of
comment
as
to
Minna
Hooven
about
the
ranches
.
Certainly
she
was
a
good
girl
,
but
she
was
seen
at
all
hours
here
and
there
about
Bonneville
and
Guadalajara
,
skylarking
with
the
Portuguese
farm
hands
of
Quien
Sabe
and
Los
Muertos
.
She
was
very
pretty
;
the
men
made
fools
of
themselves
over
her
.
Presley
hoped
they
would
not
end
by
making
a
fool
of
her
.
Just
beyond
the
irrigating
ditch
,
Presley
left
the
Lower
Road
,
and
following
a
trail
that
branched
off
southeasterly
from
this
point
,
held
on
across
the
Fourth
Division
of
the
ranch
,
keeping
the
Mission
Creek
on
his
left
.
A
few
miles
farther
on
,
he
went
through
a
gate
in
a
barbed
wire
fence
,
and
at
once
engaged
himself
in
a
system
of
little
arroyos
and
low
rolling
hills
,
that
steadily
lifted
and
increased
in
size
as
he
proceeded
.
This
higher
ground
was
the
advance
guard
of
the
Sierra
foothills
,
and
served
as
the
stock
range
for
Los
Muertos
.
The
hills
were
huge
rolling
hummocks
of
bare
ground
,
covered
only
by
wild
oats
.
At
long
intervals
,
were
isolated
live
oaks
.
In
the
canyons
and
arroyos
,
the
chaparral
and
manzanita
grew
in
dark
olive
-
green
thickets
.
The
ground
was
honey
-
combed
with
gopher
-
holes
,
and
the
gophers
themselves
were
everywhere
.
Occasionally
a
jack
rabbit
bounded
across
the
open
,
from
one
growth
of
chaparral
to
another
,
taking
long
leaps
,
his
ears
erect
.
High
overhead
,
a
hawk
or
two
swung
at
anchor
,
and
once
,
with
a
startling
rush
of
wings
,
a
covey
of
quail
flushed
from
the
brush
at
the
side
of
the
trail
.
