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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 335/416
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She
burst
into
the
house
.
Hooven
’
s
body
had
been
removed
to
an
adjoining
room
,
the
bedroom
of
the
house
,
and
to
this
room
Mrs
.
Hooven
—
Minna
still
at
her
heels
—
proceeded
,
guided
by
an
instinct
born
of
the
occasion
.
Those
in
the
outside
room
,
saying
no
word
,
made
way
for
them
.
They
entered
,
closing
the
door
behind
them
,
and
through
all
the
rest
of
that
terrible
day
,
no
sound
nor
sight
of
them
was
had
by
those
who
crowded
into
and
about
that
house
of
death
.
Of
all
the
main
actors
of
the
tragedy
of
the
fight
in
the
ditch
,
they
remained
the
least
noted
,
obtruded
themselves
the
least
upon
the
world
’
s
observation
.
They
were
,
for
the
moment
,
forgotten
.
But
by
now
Hooven
’
s
house
was
the
centre
of
an
enormous
crowd
.
A
vast
concourse
of
people
from
Bonneville
,
from
Guadalajara
,
from
the
ranches
,
swelled
by
the
thousands
who
had
that
morning
participated
in
the
rabbit
drive
,
surged
about
the
place
;
men
and
women
,
young
boys
,
young
girls
,
farm
hands
,
villagers
,
townspeople
,
ranchers
,
railroad
employees
,
Mexicans
,
Spaniards
,
Portuguese
.
Presley
,
returning
from
the
search
for
Delaney
’
s
body
,
had
to
fight
his
way
to
the
house
again
.
And
from
all
this
multitude
there
rose
an
indefinable
murmur
.
As
yet
,
there
was
no
menace
in
it
,
no
anger
.
It
was
confusion
merely
,
bewilderment
,
the
first
long
-
drawn
“
oh
!
”
that
greets
the
news
of
some
great
tragedy
.
The
people
had
taken
no
thought
as
yet
.
Curiosity
was
their
dominant
impulse
.
Every
one
wanted
to
see
what
had
been
done
;
failing
that
,
to
hear
of
it
,
and
failing
that
,
to
be
near
the
scene
of
the
affair
.
The
crowd
of
people
packed
the
road
in
front
of
the
house
for
nearly
a
quarter
of
a
mile
in
either
direction
.
They
balanced
themselves
upon
the
lower
strands
of
the
barbed
wire
fence
in
their
effort
to
see
over
each
others
’
shoulders
;
they
stood
on
the
seats
of
their
carts
,
buggies
,
and
farm
wagons
,
a
few
even
upon
the
saddles
of
their
riding
horses
.
They
crowded
,
pushed
,
struggled
,
surged
forward
and
back
without
knowing
why
,
converging
incessantly
upon
Hooven
’
s
house
.
When
,
at
length
,
Presley
got
to
the
gate
,
he
found
a
carry
-
all
drawn
up
before
it
.
Between
the
gate
and
the
door
of
the
house
a
lane
had
been
formed
,
and
as
he
paused
there
a
moment
,
a
group
of
Leaguers
,
among
whom
were
Garnett
and
Gethings
,
came
slowly
from
the
door
carrying
old
Broderson
in
their
arms
.
The
doctor
,
bareheaded
and
in
his
shirt
sleeves
,
squinting
in
the
sunlight
,
attended
them
,
repeating
at
every
step
:
“
Slow
,
slow
,
take
it
easy
,
gentlemen
.
”
Old
Broderson
was
unconscious
.
His
face
was
not
pale
,
no
bandages
could
be
seen
.
With
infinite
precautions
,
the
men
bore
him
to
the
carry
-
all
and
deposited
him
on
the
back
seat
;
the
rain
flaps
were
let
down
on
one
side
to
shut
off
the
gaze
of
the
multitude
.
But
at
this
point
a
moment
of
confusion
ensued
.
Presley
,
because
of
half
a
dozen
people
who
stood
in
his
way
,
could
not
see
what
was
going
on
.
There
were
exclamations
,
hurried
movements
.
The
doctor
uttered
a
sharp
command
and
a
man
ran
back
to
the
house
returning
on
the
instant
with
the
doctor
’
s
satchel
.
By
this
time
,
Presley
was
close
to
the
wheels
of
the
carry
-
all
and
could
see
the
doctor
inside
the
vehicle
bending
over
old
Broderson
.
“
Here
it
is
,
here
it
is
,
”
exclaimed
the
man
who
had
been
sent
to
the
house
.
