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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 71/416
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From
time
to
time
the
gang
in
which
Vanamee
worked
halted
on
the
signal
from
foreman
or
overseer
.
The
horses
came
to
a
standstill
,
the
vague
clamour
of
the
work
lapsed
away
.
Then
the
minutes
passed
.
The
whole
work
hung
suspended
.
All
up
and
down
the
line
one
demanded
what
had
happened
.
The
division
superintendent
galloped
past
,
perplexed
and
anxious
.
For
the
moment
,
one
of
the
ploughs
was
out
of
order
,
a
bolt
had
slipped
,
a
lever
refused
to
work
,
or
a
machine
had
become
immobilised
in
heavy
ground
,
or
a
horse
had
lamed
himself
.
Once
,
even
,
toward
noon
,
an
entire
plough
was
taken
out
of
the
line
,
so
out
of
gear
that
a
messenger
had
to
be
sent
to
the
division
forge
to
summon
the
machinist
.
Annixter
had
disappeared
.
He
had
ridden
farther
on
to
the
other
divisions
of
his
ranch
,
to
watch
the
work
in
progress
there
.
At
twelve
o
’
clock
,
according
to
his
orders
,
all
the
division
superintendents
put
themselves
in
communication
with
him
by
means
of
the
telephone
wires
that
connected
each
of
the
division
houses
,
reporting
the
condition
of
the
work
,
the
number
of
acres
covered
,
the
prospects
of
each
plough
traversing
its
daily
average
of
twenty
miles
.
At
half
-
past
twelve
,
Vanamee
and
the
rest
of
the
drivers
ate
their
lunch
in
the
field
,
the
tin
buckets
having
been
distributed
to
them
that
morning
after
breakfast
.
But
in
the
evening
,
the
routine
of
the
previous
day
was
repeated
,
and
Vanamee
,
unharnessing
his
team
,
riding
one
horse
and
leading
the
others
,
returned
to
the
division
barns
and
bunk
-
house
.
It
was
between
six
and
seven
o
’
clock
.
The
half
hundred
men
of
the
gang
threw
themselves
upon
the
supper
the
Chinese
cooks
had
set
out
in
the
shed
of
the
eating
-
house
,
long
as
a
bowling
alley
,
unpainted
,
crude
,
the
seats
benches
,
the
table
covered
with
oil
cloth
.
Overhead
a
half
-
dozen
kerosene
lamps
flared
and
smoked
.
The
table
was
taken
as
if
by
assault
;
the
clatter
of
iron
knives
upon
the
tin
plates
was
as
the
reverberation
of
hail
upon
a
metal
roof
.
The
ploughmen
rinsed
their
throats
with
great
draughts
of
wine
,
and
,
their
elbows
wide
,
their
foreheads
flushed
,
resumed
the
attack
upon
the
beef
and
bread
,
eating
as
though
they
would
never
have
enough
.
All
up
and
down
the
long
table
,
where
the
kerosene
lamps
reflected
themselves
deep
in
the
oil
-
cloth
cover
,
one
heard
the
incessant
sounds
of
mastication
,
and
saw
the
uninterrupted
movement
of
great
jaws
.
At
every
moment
one
or
another
of
the
men
demanded
a
fresh
portion
of
beef
,
another
pint
of
wine
,
another
half
-
loaf
of
bread
.
For
upwards
of
an
hour
the
gang
ate
.
It
was
no
longer
a
supper
.
It
was
a
veritable
barbecue
,
a
crude
and
primitive
feasting
,
barbaric
,
homeric
.
But
in
all
this
scene
Vanamee
saw
nothing
repulsive
.
Presley
would
have
abhorred
it
—
this
feeding
of
the
People
,
this
gorging
of
the
human
animal
,
eager
for
its
meat
.
Vanamee
,
simple
,
uncomplicated
,
living
so
close
to
nature
and
the
rudimentary
life
,
understood
its
significance
.
He
knew
very
well
that
within
a
short
half
-
hour
after
this
meal
the
men
would
throw
themselves
down
in
their
bunks
to
sleep
without
moving
,
inert
and
stupefied
with
fatigue
,
till
the
morning
.
Work
,
food
,
and
sleep
,
all
life
reduced
to
its
bare
essentials
,
uncomplex
,
honest
,
healthy
.
They
were
strong
,
these
men
,
with
the
strength
of
the
soil
they
worked
,
in
touch
with
the
essential
things
,
back
again
to
the
starting
point
of
civilisation
,
coarse
,
vital
,
real
,
and
sane
.
For
a
brief
moment
immediately
after
the
meal
,
pipes
were
lit
,
and
the
air
grew
thick
with
fragrant
tobacco
smoke
.
On
a
corner
of
the
dining
-
room
table
,
a
game
of
poker
was
begun
.
One
of
the
drivers
,
a
Swede
,
produced
an
accordion
;
a
group
on
the
steps
of
the
bunk
-
house
listened
,
with
alternate
gravity
and
shouts
of
laughter
,
to
the
acknowledged
story
-
teller
of
the
gang
.
But
soon
the
men
began
to
turn
in
,
stretching
themselves
at
full
length
on
the
horse
blankets
in
the
racklike
bunks
.
The
sounds
of
heavy
breathing
increased
steadily
,
lights
were
put
out
,
and
before
the
afterglow
had
faded
from
the
sky
,
the
gang
was
asleep
.
Vanamee
,
however
,
remained
awake
.
The
night
was
fine
,
warm
;
the
sky
silver
-
grey
with
starlight
.
By
and
by
there
would
be
a
moon
.
In
the
first
watch
after
the
twilight
,
a
faint
puff
of
breeze
came
up
out
of
the
south
.
From
all
around
,
the
heavy
penetrating
smell
of
the
new
-
turned
earth
exhaled
steadily
into
the
darkness
.
After
a
while
,
when
the
moon
came
up
,
he
could
see
the
vast
brown
breast
of
the
earth
turn
toward
it
.
Far
off
,
distant
objects
came
into
view
:
The
giant
oak
tree
at
Hooven
’
s
ranch
house
near
the
irrigating
ditch
on
Los
Muertos
,
the
skeleton
-
like
tower
of
the
windmill
on
Annixter
’
s
Home
ranch
,
the
clump
of
willows
along
Broderson
Creek
close
to
the
Long
Trestle
,
and
,
last
of
all
,
the
venerable
tower
of
the
Mission
of
San
Juan
on
the
high
ground
beyond
the
creek
.
