Сестра Керри

Chapter XLI. The Strike

           OnenarrowlygrazedHurstwood’shead.Anothershatteredthewindowbehind.

           “Throwopenyourlever,”yelledoneoftheofficers,grabbingatthehandlehimself.

           Hurstwoodcompliedandthecarshotaway,followedbyarattleofstonesandarainofcurses.

           “That——hitmeintheneck,”saidoneoftheofficers.“Igavehimagoodcrackforit,though.”

           “IthinkImusthaveleftspotsonsomeofthem,”saidtheother.

           “Iknowthatbigguythatcalledusa——”saidthefirst.“I’llgethimyetforthat.”

           “Ithoughtwewereinforitsure,oncethere,”saidthesecond.

           Hurstwood,warmedandexcited,gazedsteadilyahead.Itwasanastonishingexperienceforhim.Hehadreadofthesethings,buttherealityseemedsomethingaltogethernew.Hewasnocowardinspirit.Thefactthathehadsufferedthismuchnowratheroperatedtoarouseastoliddeterminationtostickitout.HedidnotrecurinthoughttoNewYorkortheflat.Thisonetripseemedaconsumingthing.

           TheynowranintothebusinessheartofBrooklynuninterrupted.PeoplegazedatthebrokenwindowsofthecarandatHurstwoodinhisplainclothes.Voicescalled“scab”nowandthen,aswellasotherepithets,butnocrowdattackedthecar.Atthedowntownendoftheline,oneoftheofficerswenttocalluphisstationandreportthetrouble.

           “There’sagangoutthere,”hesaid,“layingforusyet.Bettersendsomeoneoverthereandcleanthemout.”

           Thecarranbackmorequietly—hooted,watched,flungat,butnotattacked.Hurstwoodbreathedfreelywhenhesawthebarns.

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