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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 343/416
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“
This
matter
of
resisting
the
marshal
when
he
tried
to
put
the
Railroad
dummies
in
possession
on
the
ranches
around
here
,
was
all
talked
over
in
the
committee
meetings
of
the
League
long
ago
.
It
never
was
our
intention
to
fire
a
single
shot
.
No
such
absolute
authority
as
was
assumed
yesterday
was
delegated
to
anybody
.
Our
esteemed
President
is
all
right
,
but
we
all
know
that
he
is
a
man
who
loves
authority
and
who
likes
to
go
his
own
gait
without
accounting
to
anybody
.
We
—
the
rest
of
us
Leaguers
—
never
were
informed
as
to
what
was
going
on
.
We
supposed
,
of
course
,
that
watch
was
being
kept
on
the
Railroad
so
as
we
wouldn
’
t
be
taken
by
surprise
as
we
were
yesterday
.
And
it
seems
no
watch
was
kept
at
all
,
or
if
there
was
,
it
was
mighty
ineffective
.
Our
idea
was
to
forestall
any
movement
on
the
part
of
the
Railroad
and
then
when
we
knew
the
marshal
was
coming
down
,
to
call
a
meeting
of
our
Executive
Committee
and
decide
as
to
what
should
be
done
.
We
ought
to
have
had
time
to
call
out
the
whole
League
.
Instead
of
that
,
what
happens
?
While
we
’
re
all
off
chasing
rabbits
,
the
Railroad
is
allowed
to
steal
a
march
on
us
and
when
it
is
too
late
,
a
handful
of
Leaguers
is
got
together
and
a
fight
is
precipitated
and
our
men
killed
.
I
’
M
sorry
for
our
President
,
too
.
No
one
is
more
so
,
but
I
want
to
put
myself
on
record
as
believing
he
did
a
hasty
and
inconsiderate
thing
.
If
he
had
managed
right
,
he
could
have
had
six
hundred
men
to
oppose
the
Railroad
and
there
would
not
have
been
any
gun
fight
or
any
killing
.
He
DIDN
’
T
manage
right
and
there
WAS
a
killing
and
I
don
’
t
see
as
how
the
League
ought
to
be
held
responsible
.
The
idea
of
the
League
,
the
whole
reason
why
it
was
organised
,
was
to
protect
ALL
the
ranches
of
this
valley
from
the
Railroad
,
and
it
looks
to
me
as
if
the
lives
of
our
fellow
-
citizens
had
been
sacrificed
,
not
in
defending
ALL
of
our
ranches
,
but
just
in
defence
of
one
of
them
—
Los
Muertos
—
the
one
that
Mr
.
Derrick
owns
.
”
The
speaker
had
no
more
than
regained
his
seat
when
a
man
was
seen
pushing
his
way
from
the
back
of
the
stage
towards
Garnett
.
He
handed
the
rancher
a
note
,
at
the
same
time
whispering
in
his
ear
.
Garnett
read
the
note
,
then
came
forward
to
the
edge
of
the
stage
,
holding
up
his
hand
.
When
the
audience
had
fallen
silent
he
said
:
“
I
have
just
received
sad
news
.
Our
friend
and
fellow
-
citizen
,
Mr
.
Osterman
,
died
this
morning
between
eleven
and
twelve
o
’
clock
.
”
Instantly
there
was
a
roar
.
Every
man
in
the
building
rose
to
his
feet
,
shouting
,
gesticulating
.
The
roar
increased
,
the
Opera
House
trembled
to
it
,
the
gas
jets
in
the
lighted
chandeliers
vibrated
to
it
.
It
was
a
raucous
howl
of
execration
,
a
bellow
of
rage
,
inarticulate
,
deafening
.
A
tornado
of
confusion
swept
whirling
from
wall
to
wall
and
the
madness
of
the
moment
seized
irresistibly
upon
Presley
.
He
forgot
himself
;
he
no
longer
was
master
of
his
emotions
or
his
impulses
.
All
at
once
he
found
himself
upon
the
stage
,
facing
the
audience
,
flaming
with
excitement
,
his
imagination
on
fire
,
his
arms
uplifted
in
fierce
,
wild
gestures
,
words
leaping
to
his
mind
in
a
torrent
that
could
not
be
withheld
.
“
One
more
dead
,
”
he
cried
,
“
one
more
.
Harran
dead
,
Annixter
dead
,
Broderson
dead
,
Dabney
dead
,
Osterman
dead
,
Hooven
dead
;
shot
down
,
killed
,
killed
in
the
defence
of
their
homes
,
killed
in
the
defence
of
their
rights
,
killed
for
the
sake
of
liberty
.
How
long
must
it
go
on
?
How
long
must
we
suffer
?
Where
is
the
end
;
what
is
the
end
?
How
long
must
the
iron
-
hearted
monster
feed
on
our
life
’
s
blood
?
How
long
must
this
terror
of
steam
and
steel
ride
upon
our
necks
?
Will
you
never
be
satisfied
,
will
you
never
relent
,
you
,
our
masters
,
you
,
our
lords
,
you
,
our
kings
,
you
,
our
task
-
masters
,
you
,
our
Pharoahs
.
Will
you
never
listen
to
that
command
’
LET
MY
PEOPLE
GO
’
?
Oh
,
that
cry
ringing
down
the
ages
.
Hear
it
,
hear
it
.
It
is
the
voice
of
the
Lord
God
speaking
in
his
prophets
.
Hear
it
,
hear
it
—
’
Let
My
people
go
!
’
Rameses
heard
it
in
his
pylons
at
Thebes
,
Caesar
heard
it
on
the
Palatine
,
the
Bourbon
Louis
heard
it
at
Versailles
,
Charles
Stuart
heard
it
at
Whitehall
,
the
white
Czar
heard
it
in
the
Kremlin
,
—
’
LET
MY
PEOPLE
GO
.
’
It
is
the
cry
of
the
nations
,
the
great
voice
of
the
centuries
;
everywhere
it
is
raised
.
The
voice
of
God
is
the
voice
of
the
People
.
The
people
cry
out
’
Let
us
,
the
People
,
God
’
s
people
,
go
.
’
You
,
our
masters
,
you
,
our
kings
,
you
,
our
tyrants
,
don
’
t
you
hear
us
?
Don
’
t
you
hear
God
speaking
in
us
?
Will
you
never
let
us
go
?
How
long
at
length
will
you
abuse
our
patience
?
How
long
will
you
drive
us
?
How
long
will
you
harass
us
?
Will
nothing
daunt
you
?
Does
nothing
check
you
?
Do
you
not
know
that
to
ignore
our
cry
too
long
is
to
wake
the
Red
Terror
?
Rameses
refused
to
listen
to
it
and
perished
miserably
.
Caesar
refused
to
listen
and
was
stabbed
in
the
Senate
House
.
The
Bourbon
Louis
refused
to
listen
and
died
on
the
guillotine
;
Charles
Stuart
refused
to
listen
and
died
on
the
block
;
the
white
Czar
refused
to
listen
and
was
blown
up
in
his
own
capital
.
Will
you
let
it
come
to
that
?
Will
you
drive
us
to
it
?
We
who
boast
of
our
land
of
freedom
,
we
who
live
in
the
country
of
liberty
?
Go
on
as
you
have
begun
and
it
WILL
come
to
that
.
Turn
a
deaf
ear
to
that
cry
of
’
Let
My
people
go
’
too
long
and
another
cry
will
be
raised
,
that
you
cannot
choose
but
hear
,
a
cry
that
you
cannot
shut
out
.
It
will
be
the
cry
of
the
man
on
the
street
,
the
’
a
la
Bastille
’
that
wakes
the
Red
Terror
and
unleashes
Revolution
.
Harassed
,
plundered
,
exasperated
,
desperate
,
the
people
will
turn
at
last
as
they
have
turned
so
many
,
many
times
before
.
You
,
our
lords
,
you
,
our
task
-
masters
,
you
,
our
kings
;
you
have
caught
your
Samson
,
you
have
made
his
strength
your
own
.
You
have
shorn
his
head
;
you
have
put
out
his
eyes
;
you
have
set
him
to
turn
your
millstones
,
to
grind
the
grist
for
your
mills
;
you
have
made
him
a
shame
and
a
mock
.
Take
care
,
oh
,
as
you
love
your
lives
,
take
care
,
lest
some
day
calling
upon
the
Lord
his
God
he
reach
not
out
his
arms
for
the
pillars
of
your
temples
.
”
The
audience
,
at
first
bewildered
,
confused
by
this
unexpected
invective
,
suddenly
took
fire
at
his
last
words
.
There
was
a
roar
of
applause
;
then
,
more
significant
than
mere
vociferation
,
Presley
’
s
listeners
,
as
he
began
to
speak
again
,
grew
suddenly
silent
.
His
next
sentences
were
uttered
in
the
midst
of
a
profound
stillness
.
