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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 280/416
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The
other
turned
,
levelling
his
pistol
.
“
Give
me
a
horse
,
give
me
a
horse
,
quick
,
do
you
hear
?
Give
me
a
horse
,
or
I
’
ll
shoot
.
”
“
Steady
,
steady
.
That
won
’
t
do
.
You
know
me
,
Dyke
.
We
’
re
friends
here
.
”
The
other
lowered
his
weapon
.
“
I
know
,
I
know
,
”
he
panted
.
“
I
’
d
forgotten
.
I
’
m
unstrung
,
Mr
.
Annixter
,
and
I
’
m
running
for
my
life
.
They
’
re
not
ten
minutes
behind
me
.
”
“
Come
on
,
come
on
,
”
shouted
Annixter
,
dashing
stablewards
,
his
suspenders
flying
.
“
Here
’
s
a
horse
.
”
“
Mine
?
”
exclaimed
Presley
.
“
He
wouldn
’
t
carry
you
a
mile
.
”
Annixter
was
already
far
ahead
,
trumpeting
orders
.
“
The
buckskin
,
”
he
yelled
.
“
Get
her
out
,
Billy
.
Where
’
s
the
stable
-
man
?
Get
out
that
buckskin
.
Get
out
that
saddle
.
”
