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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 140/287
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The
men
waited
.
The
river
passed
quietly
in
the
dreamful
noon
.
"
Looks
like
you
goin
’
to
have
to
hoe
your
own
turnips
,
Sam
,
"
Grandpa
chuckled
.
"
I
’
m
not
bad
at
shootin
’
white
folks
neither
.
"
Teece
didn
’
t
look
at
Grandpa
.
Grandpa
turned
his
head
away
and
shut
up
his
mouth
.
"
Hold
on
there
!
"
Samuel
Teece
leaped
off
the
porch
.
He
reached
up
and
seized
the
reins
of
a
horse
ridden
by
a
tall
Negro
man
.
"
You
,
Belter
,
come
down
off
there
!
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
Belter
slid
down
.
Teece
looked
him
over
.
"
Now
,
just
what
you
think
you
’
re
doin
’
?
"
"
Well
,
Mr
.
Teece
…
"
"
I
reckon
you
think
you
’
re
goin
’
,
just
like
that
song
—
what
’
s
the
words
?
«
Way
up
in
the
middle
of
the
air
»
;
ain
’
t
that
it
?
"
