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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 249/416
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However
,
they
could
not
at
once
start
for
the
ranch
,
Annixter
wishing
to
ask
some
questions
at
the
freight
office
about
a
final
consignment
of
chairs
.
It
was
nearly
eleven
o
’
clock
before
they
could
start
home
.
But
to
gain
the
Upper
Road
to
Quien
Sabe
,
it
was
necessary
to
traverse
all
of
Main
Street
,
running
through
the
heart
of
Bonneville
.
The
entire
town
seemed
to
be
upon
the
sidewalks
.
By
now
the
rain
was
over
and
the
sun
shining
.
The
story
of
the
hold
-
up
—
the
work
of
a
man
whom
every
one
knew
and
liked
—
was
in
every
mouth
.
How
had
Dyke
come
to
do
it
?
Who
would
have
believed
it
of
him
?
Think
of
his
poor
mother
and
the
little
tad
.
Well
,
after
all
,
he
was
not
so
much
to
blame
;
the
railroad
people
had
brought
it
on
themselves
.
But
he
had
shot
a
man
to
death
.
Ah
,
that
was
a
serious
business
.
Good
-
natured
,
big
,
broad
-
shouldered
,
jovial
Dyke
,
the
man
they
knew
,
with
whom
they
had
shaken
hands
only
yesterday
,
yes
,
and
drank
with
him
.
He
had
shot
a
man
,
killed
him
,
had
stood
there
in
the
dark
and
in
the
rain
while
they
were
asleep
in
their
beds
,
and
had
killed
a
man
.
Now
where
was
he
?
Instinctively
eyes
were
turned
eastward
,
over
the
tops
of
the
houses
,
or
down
vistas
of
side
streets
to
where
the
foot
-
hills
of
the
mountains
rose
dim
and
vast
over
the
edge
of
the
valley
.
He
was
in
amongst
them
;
somewhere
,
in
all
that
pile
of
blue
crests
and
purple
canyons
he
was
hidden
away
.
Now
for
weeks
of
searching
,
false
alarms
,
clews
,
trailings
,
watchings
,
all
the
thrill
and
heart
-
bursting
excitement
of
a
man
-
hunt
.
Would
he
get
away
?
Hardly
a
man
on
the
sidewalks
of
the
town
that
day
who
did
not
hope
for
it
.
As
Annixter
’
s
team
trotted
through
the
central
portion
of
the
town
,
young
Vacca
pointed
to
a
denser
and
larger
crowd
around
the
rear
entrance
of
the
City
Hall
.
Fully
twenty
saddle
horses
were
tied
to
the
iron
rail
underneath
the
scant
,
half
-
grown
trees
near
by
,
and
as
Annixter
and
Hilma
drove
by
,
the
crowd
parted
and
a
dozen
men
with
revolvers
on
their
hips
pushed
their
way
to
the
curbstone
,
and
,
mounting
their
horses
,
rode
away
at
a
gallop
.
“
It
’
s
the
posse
,
”
said
young
Vacca
.
Outside
the
town
limits
the
ground
was
level
.
There
was
nothing
to
obstruct
the
view
,
and
to
the
north
,
in
the
direction
of
Osterman
’
s
ranch
,
Vacca
made
out
another
party
of
horsemen
,
galloping
eastward
,
and
beyond
these
still
another
.
“
There
’
re
the
other
posses
,
”
he
announced
.
“
That
further
one
is
Archie
Moore
’
s
.
He
’
s
the
sheriff
.
He
came
down
from
Visalia
on
a
special
engine
this
morning
.
”
When
the
team
turned
into
the
driveway
to
the
ranch
house
,
Hilma
uttered
a
little
cry
,
clasping
her
hands
joyfully
.
The
house
was
one
glitter
of
new
white
paint
,
the
driveway
had
been
freshly
gravelled
,
the
flower
-
beds
replenished
.
Mrs
.
Vacca
and
her
daughter
,
who
had
been
busy
putting
on
the
finishing
touches
,
came
to
the
door
to
welcome
them
.
“
What
’
s
this
case
here
?
”
asked
Annixter
,
when
,
after
helping
his
wife
from
the
carry
-
all
,
his
eye
fell
upon
a
wooden
box
of
some
three
by
five
feet
that
stood
on
the
porch
and
bore
the
red
Wells
-
Fargo
label
.
“
It
came
here
last
night
,
addressed
to
you
,
sir
,
”
exclaimed
Mrs
.
Vacca
.
“
We
were
sure
it
wasn
’
t
any
of
your
furniture
,
so
we
didn
’
t
open
it
.
”
