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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 238/416
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“
Just
passed
it
,
”
the
other
responded
,
looking
at
Annixter
over
his
spectacles
.
“
What
’
s
the
next
stop
?
”
“
Goshen
.
We
will
be
there
in
about
forty
-
five
minutes
.
”
“
Fair
black
night
,
isn
’
t
it
?
”
“
Black
as
a
pocket
.
Let
’
s
see
,
you
’
re
the
party
in
upper
and
lower
9
.
”
Annixter
caught
at
the
back
of
the
nearest
seat
,
just
in
time
to
prevent
a
fall
,
and
the
conductor
’
s
cash
box
was
shunted
off
the
surface
of
the
plush
seat
and
came
clanking
to
the
floor
.
The
Pintsch
lights
overhead
vibrated
with
blinding
rapidity
in
the
long
,
sliding
jar
that
ran
through
the
train
from
end
to
end
,
and
the
momentum
of
its
speed
suddenly
decreasing
,
all
but
pitched
the
conductor
from
his
seat
.
A
hideous
ear
-
splitting
rasp
made
itself
heard
from
the
clamped
-
down
Westinghouse
gear
underneath
,
and
Annixter
knew
that
the
wheels
had
ceased
to
revolve
and
that
the
train
was
sliding
forward
upon
the
motionless
flanges
.
“
Hello
,
hello
,
”
he
exclaimed
,
“
what
’
s
all
up
now
?
”
“
Emergency
brakes
,
”
declared
the
conductor
,
catching
up
his
cash
box
and
thrusting
his
papers
and
tickets
into
it
.
“
Nothing
much
;
probably
a
cow
on
the
track
.
”
He
disappeared
,
carrying
his
lantern
with
him
.
