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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 294/416
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”
As
Presley
and
Harran
trotted
on
along
the
county
road
they
continually
passed
or
overtook
other
horsemen
,
or
buggies
,
carry
-
alls
,
buck
-
boards
or
even
farm
wagons
,
going
in
the
same
direction
.
These
were
full
of
the
farming
people
from
all
the
country
round
about
Bonneville
,
on
their
way
to
the
rabbit
drive
—
the
same
people
seen
at
the
barn
-
dance
—
in
their
Sunday
finest
,
the
girls
in
muslin
frocks
and
garden
hats
,
the
men
with
linen
dusters
over
their
black
clothes
;
the
older
women
in
prints
and
dotted
calicoes
.
Many
of
these
latter
had
already
taken
off
their
bonnets
—
the
day
was
very
hot
—
and
pinning
them
in
newspapers
,
stowed
them
under
the
seats
.
They
tucked
their
handkerchiefs
into
the
collars
of
their
dresses
,
or
knotted
them
about
their
fat
necks
,
to
keep
out
the
dust
.
From
the
axle
trees
of
the
vehicles
swung
carefully
covered
buckets
of
galvanised
iron
,
in
which
the
lunch
was
packed
.
The
younger
children
,
the
boys
with
great
frilled
collars
,
the
girls
with
ill
-
fitting
shoes
cramping
their
feet
,
leaned
from
the
sides
of
buggy
and
carry
-
all
,
eating
bananas
and
“
macaroons
,
”
staring
about
with
ox
-
like
stolidity
.
Tied
to
the
axles
,
the
dogs
followed
the
horses
’
hoofs
with
lolling
tongues
coated
with
dust
.
The
California
summer
lay
blanket
-
wise
and
smothering
over
all
the
land
.
The
hills
,
bone
-
dry
,
were
browned
and
parched
.
The
grasses
and
wild
-
oats
,
sear
and
yellow
,
snapped
like
glass
filaments
under
foot
.
The
roads
,
the
bordering
fences
,
even
the
lower
leaves
and
branches
of
the
trees
,
were
thick
and
grey
with
dust
.
All
colour
had
been
burned
from
the
landscape
,
except
in
the
irrigated
patches
,
that
in
the
waste
of
brown
and
dull
yellow
glowed
like
oases
.
The
wheat
,
now
close
to
its
maturity
,
had
turned
from
pale
yellow
to
golden
yellow
,
and
from
that
to
brown
.
Like
a
gigantic
carpet
,
it
spread
itself
over
all
the
land
.
There
was
nothing
else
to
be
seen
but
the
limitless
sea
of
wheat
as
far
as
the
eye
could
reach
,
dry
,
rustling
,
crisp
and
harsh
in
the
rare
breaths
of
hot
wind
out
of
the
southeast
.
As
Harran
and
Presley
went
along
the
county
road
,
the
number
of
vehicles
and
riders
increased
.
They
overtook
and
passed
Hooven
and
his
family
in
the
former
’
s
farm
wagon
,
a
saddled
horse
tied
to
the
back
board
.
The
little
Dutchman
,
wearing
the
old
frock
coat
of
Magnus
Derrick
,
and
a
new
broad
-
brimmed
straw
hat
,
sat
on
the
front
seat
with
Mrs
.
Hooven
.
The
little
girl
Hilda
,
and
the
older
daughter
Minna
,
were
behind
them
on
a
board
laid
across
the
sides
of
the
wagon
.
Presley
and
Harran
stopped
to
shake
hands
.
“
Say
,
”
cried
Hooven
,
exhibiting
an
old
,
but
extremely
well
kept
,
rifle
,
“
say
,
bei
Gott
,
me
,
I
tek
some
schatz
at
dose
rebbit
,
you
bedt
.
Ven
he
hef
shtop
to
run
und
sit
oop
soh
,
bei
der
hind
laigs
on
,
I
oop
mit
der
guhn
und
—
bing
!
I
cetch
um
.
”
“
The
marshals
won
’
t
allow
you
to
shoot
,
Bismarck
,
”
observed
Presley
,
looking
at
Minna
.
Hooven
doubled
up
with
merriment
.
“
Ho
!
dot
’
s
hell
of
some
fine
joak
.
Me
,
I
’
M
ONE
OAF
DOSE
MAIRSCHELL
MINE
-
SELLUF
,
”
he
roared
with
delight
,
beating
his
knee
.
To
his
notion
,
the
joke
was
irresistible
.
All
day
long
,
he
could
be
heard
repeating
it
.
“
Und
Mist
’
r
Praicelie
,
he
say
,
’
Dose
mairschell
woand
led
you
schoot
,
Bismarck
,
’
und
ME
,
ach
Gott
,
ME
,
aindt
I
mine
-
selluf
one
oaf
dose
mairschell
?
”
As
the
two
friends
rode
on
,
Presley
had
in
his
mind
the
image
of
Minna
Hooven
,
very
pretty
in
a
clean
gown
of
pink
gingham
,
a
cheap
straw
sailor
hat
from
a
Bonneville
store
on
her
blue
black
hair
.
He
remembered
her
very
pale
face
,
very
red
lips
and
eyes
of
greenish
blue
,
—
a
pretty
girl
certainly
,
always
trailing
a
group
of
men
behind
her
.
Her
love
affairs
were
the
talk
of
all
Los
Muertos
.
