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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 336/416
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“
I
won
’
t
need
it
,
”
answered
the
doctor
,
“
he
’
s
dying
now
.
”
At
the
words
a
great
hush
widened
throughout
the
throng
near
at
hand
.
Some
men
took
off
their
hats
.
“
Stand
back
,
”
protested
the
doctor
quietly
,
“
stand
back
,
good
people
,
please
.
”
The
crowd
bore
back
a
little
.
In
the
silence
,
a
woman
began
to
sob
.
The
seconds
passed
,
then
a
minute
.
The
horses
of
the
carry
-
all
shifted
their
feet
and
whisked
their
tails
,
driving
off
the
flies
.
At
length
,
the
doctor
got
down
from
the
carry
-
all
,
letting
down
the
rain
-
flaps
on
that
side
as
well
.
“
Will
somebody
go
home
with
the
body
?
”
he
asked
.
Gethings
stepped
forward
and
took
his
place
by
the
driver
.
The
carry
-
all
drove
away
.
Presley
reentered
the
house
.
During
his
absence
it
had
been
cleared
of
all
but
one
or
two
of
the
Leaguers
,
who
had
taken
part
in
the
fight
.
Hilma
still
sat
on
the
bed
with
Annixter
’
s
head
in
her
lap
.
S
.
Behrman
,
Ruggles
,
and
all
the
railroad
party
had
gone
.
Osterman
had
been
taken
away
in
a
hack
and
the
tablecloth
over
Dabney
’
s
body
replaced
with
a
sheet
.
But
still
unabated
,
agonised
,
raucous
,
came
the
sounds
of
Harran
’
s
breathing
.
Everything
possible
had
already
been
done
.
For
the
moment
it
was
out
of
the
question
to
attempt
to
move
him
.
His
mother
and
father
were
at
his
side
,
Magnus
,
with
a
face
of
stone
,
his
look
fixed
on
those
persistently
twitching
eyes
,
Annie
Derrick
crouching
at
her
son
’
s
side
,
one
of
his
hands
in
hers
,
fanning
his
face
continually
with
the
crumpled
sheet
of
an
old
newspaper
.
Presley
on
tip
-
toes
joined
the
group
,
looking
on
attentively
.
One
of
the
surgeons
who
had
been
called
from
Bonneville
stood
close
by
,
watching
Harran
’
s
face
,
his
arms
folded
.
“
How
is
he
?
”
Presley
whispered
.
“
He
won
’
t
live
,
”
the
other
responded
.
