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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 91/416
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Almost
any
one
of
the
other
barns
in
the
county
could
be
swung
,
bird
-
cage
fashion
,
inside
of
it
,
with
room
to
spare
.
In
every
sense
,
the
barn
was
precisely
what
Annixter
had
hoped
of
it
.
In
his
pleasure
over
the
success
of
his
idea
,
even
Hilma
for
the
moment
was
forgotten
.
“
And
,
now
,
”
murmured
Annixter
,
“
I
’
ll
give
that
dance
in
it
.
I
’
ll
make
’
em
sit
up
.
”
It
occurred
to
him
that
he
had
better
set
about
sending
out
the
invitations
for
the
affair
.
He
was
puzzled
to
decide
just
how
the
thing
should
be
managed
,
and
resolved
that
it
might
be
as
well
to
consult
Magnus
and
Mrs
.
Derrick
.
“
I
want
to
talk
of
this
telegram
of
the
goat
’
s
with
Magnus
,
anyhow
,
”
he
said
to
himself
reflectively
,
“
and
there
’
s
things
I
got
to
do
in
Bonneville
before
the
first
of
the
month
.
”
He
turned
about
on
his
heel
with
a
last
look
at
the
barn
,
and
set
off
toward
the
stable
.
He
had
decided
to
have
his
horse
saddled
and
ride
over
to
Bonneville
by
way
of
Los
Muertos
.
He
would
make
a
day
of
it
,
would
see
Magnus
,
Harran
,
old
Broderson
and
some
of
the
business
men
of
Bonneville
.
A
few
moments
later
,
he
rode
out
of
the
barn
and
the
stable
-
yard
,
a
fresh
cigar
between
his
teeth
,
his
hat
slanted
over
his
face
against
the
rays
of
the
sun
,
as
yet
low
in
the
east
.
He
crossed
the
irrigating
ditch
and
gained
the
trail
—
the
short
cut
over
into
Los
Muertos
,
by
way
of
Hooven
’
s
.
It
led
south
and
west
into
the
low
ground
overgrown
by
grey
-
green
willows
by
Broderson
Creek
,
at
this
time
of
the
rainy
season
a
stream
of
considerable
volume
,
farther
on
dipping
sharply
to
pass
underneath
the
Long
Trestle
of
the
railroad
.
On
the
other
side
of
the
right
of
way
,
Annixter
was
obliged
to
open
the
gate
in
Derrick
’
s
line
fence
.
He
managed
this
without
dismounting
,
swearing
at
the
horse
the
while
,
and
spurring
him
continually
.
But
once
inside
the
gate
he
cantered
forward
briskly
.
This
part
of
Los
Muertos
was
Hooven
’
s
holding
,
some
five
hundred
acres
enclosed
between
the
irrigating
ditch
and
Broderson
Creek
,
and
half
the
way
across
,
Annixter
came
up
with
Hooven
himself
,
busily
at
work
replacing
a
broken
washer
in
his
seeder
.
Upon
one
of
the
horses
hitched
to
the
machine
,
her
hands
gripped
tightly
upon
the
harness
of
the
collar
,
Hilda
,
his
little
daughter
,
with
her
small
,
hob
-
nailed
boots
and
boy
’
s
canvas
overalls
,
sat
,
exalted
and
petrified
with
ecstasy
and
excitement
,
her
eyes
wide
opened
,
her
hair
in
a
tangle
.
“
Hello
,
Bismarck
,
”
said
Annixter
,
drawing
up
beside
him
.
“
What
are
YOU
doing
here
?
I
thought
the
Governor
was
going
to
manage
without
his
tenants
this
year
.
”
“
Ach
,
Meest
’
r
Ennixter
,
”
cried
the
other
,
straightening
up
.
“
Ach
,
dat
’
s
you
,
eh
?
Ach
,
you
bedt
he
doand
menege
mitout
me
.
Me
,
I
gotta
stay
.
I
talk
der
straighd
talk
mit
der
Governor
.
I
fix
’
em
.
Ach
,
you
bedt
.
Sieben
yahr
I
hef
bei
der
rench
ge
-
stopped
;
yais
,
sir
.
Efery
oder
sohn
-
of
-
a
-
guhn
bei
der
plaice
ged
der
sach
bud
me
.
Eh
?
Wat
you
tink
von
dose
ting
?
”
