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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 291/416
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Dyke
did
not
reply
.
The
sheriff
,
Delaney
,
and
the
man
named
Christian
conferred
together
in
a
low
voice
.
Then
Delaney
and
Christian
left
the
others
,
making
a
wide
detour
up
the
sides
of
the
arroyo
,
to
gain
a
position
to
the
left
and
somewhat
to
the
rear
of
Dyke
.
But
it
was
at
this
moment
that
S
.
Behrman
arrived
.
It
could
not
be
said
whether
it
was
courage
or
carelessness
that
brought
the
Railroad
’
s
agent
within
reach
of
Dyke
’
s
revolver
.
Possibly
he
was
really
a
brave
man
;
possibly
occupied
with
keeping
an
uncertain
seat
upon
the
back
of
his
labouring
,
scrambling
horse
,
he
had
not
noticed
that
he
was
so
close
upon
that
scene
of
battle
.
He
certainly
did
not
observe
the
posse
lying
upon
the
ground
behind
sheltering
rocks
and
trees
,
and
before
anyone
could
call
a
warning
,
he
had
ridden
out
into
the
open
,
within
thirty
paces
of
Dyke
’
s
intrenchment
.
Dyke
saw
.
There
was
the
arch
-
enemy
;
the
man
of
all
men
whom
he
most
hated
;
the
man
who
had
ruined
him
,
who
had
exasperated
him
and
driven
him
to
crime
,
and
who
had
instigated
tireless
pursuit
through
all
those
past
terrible
weeks
.
Suddenly
,
inviting
death
,
he
leaped
up
and
forward
;
he
had
forgotten
all
else
,
all
other
considerations
,
at
the
sight
of
this
man
.
He
would
die
,
gladly
,
so
only
that
S
.
Behrman
died
before
him
.
“
I
’
ve
got
YOU
,
anyway
,
”
he
shouted
,
as
he
ran
forward
.
The
muzzle
of
the
weapon
was
not
ten
feet
from
S
.
Behrman
’
s
huge
stomach
as
Dyke
drew
the
trigger
.
Had
the
cartridge
exploded
,
death
,
certain
and
swift
,
would
have
followed
,
but
at
this
,
of
all
moments
,
the
revolver
missed
fire
.
S
.
Behrman
,
with
an
unexpected
agility
,
leaped
from
the
saddle
,
and
,
keeping
his
horse
between
him
and
Dyke
,
ran
,
dodging
and
ducking
,
from
tree
to
tree
.
His
first
shot
a
failure
,
Dyke
fired
again
and
again
at
his
enemy
,
emptying
his
revolver
,
reckless
of
consequences
.
His
every
shot
went
wild
,
and
before
he
could
draw
his
knife
,
the
whole
posse
was
upon
him
.
Without
concerted
plans
,
obeying
no
signal
but
the
promptings
of
the
impulse
that
snatched
,
unerring
,
at
opportunity
—
the
men
,
Delaney
and
Christian
from
one
side
,
the
sheriff
and
the
deputy
from
the
other
,
rushed
in
.
They
did
not
fire
.
It
was
Dyke
alive
they
wanted
.
One
of
them
had
a
riata
snatched
from
a
saddle
-
pommel
,
and
with
this
they
tried
to
bind
him
.
The
fight
was
four
to
one
—
four
men
with
law
on
their
side
,
to
one
wounded
freebooter
,
half
-
starved
,
exhausted
by
days
and
nights
of
pursuit
,
worn
down
with
loss
of
sleep
,
thirst
,
privation
,
and
the
grinding
,
nerve
-
racking
consciousness
of
an
ever
-
present
peril
.
They
swarmed
upon
him
from
all
sides
,
gripping
at
his
legs
,
at
his
arms
,
his
throat
,
his
head
,
striking
,
clutching
,
kicking
,
falling
to
the
ground
,
rolling
over
and
over
,
now
under
,
now
above
,
now
staggering
forward
,
now
toppling
back
.
Still
Dyke
fought
.
Through
that
scrambling
,
struggling
group
,
through
that
maze
of
twisting
bodies
,
twining
arms
,
straining
legs
,
S
.
Behrman
saw
him
from
moment
to
moment
,
his
face
flaming
,
his
eyes
bloodshot
,
his
hair
matted
with
sweat
.
Now
he
was
down
,
pinned
under
,
two
men
across
his
legs
,
and
now
half
-
way
up
again
,
struggling
to
one
knee
.
Then
upright
again
,
with
half
his
enemies
hanging
on
his
back
.
His
colossal
strength
seemed
doubled
;
when
his
arms
were
held
,
he
fought
bull
-
like
with
his
head
.
A
score
of
times
,
it
seemed
as
if
they
were
about
to
secure
him
finally
and
irrevocably
,
and
then
he
would
free
an
arm
,
a
leg
,
a
shoulder
,
and
the
group
that
,
for
the
fraction
of
an
instant
,
had
settled
,
locked
and
rigid
,
on
its
prey
,
would
break
up
again
as
he
flung
a
man
from
him
,
reeling
and
bloody
,
and
he
himself
twisting
,
squirming
,
dodging
,
his
great
fists
working
like
pistons
,
backed
away
,
dragging
and
carrying
the
others
with
him
.
