Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Theroadsackingmeastheydidwas,maybe,agoodthingforme,afterall.Itcamejustattherighttime.Ihadabitofmoneyputbyandherewasthechancetogointohopswiththecertaintythathopswouldquadrupleandquintupleinpriceinsidetheyear.No,itwasmychance,andthoughtheydidn’tmeanitbyalongchalk,therailroadpeopledidmeagoodturnwhentheygavememytime—andthetad’llentertheseminarynextfall.”

           Aboutaquarterofanhouraftertheyhadsaidgoodbyetotheone-timeengineer,PresleyandVanamee,trampingbrisklyalongtheroadthatlednorthwardthroughQuienSabe,arrivedatAnnixter’sranchhouse.Atoncetheywereawareofavastandunwontedbustlethatrevolvedabouttheplace.Theystoppedafewmomentslookingon,amusedandinterestedinwhatwasgoingforward.

           Thecolossalbarnwasfinished.Itsfreshlywhite-washedsidesglaredintolerablyinthesun,butitsinteriorwasasyetinnocentofpaintandthroughtheyawningventoftheslidingdoorscameadeliciousodourofnew,freshwoodandshavings.Acrowdofmen—Annixter’sfarmhands—wereswarmingallaboutit.Somewerebalancedonthetopmostroundsofladders,hangingfestoonsofJapaneselanternsfromtreetotree,andallacrossthefrontofthebarnitself.Mrs.Tree,herdaughterHilmaandanotherwomanwereinsidethebarncuttingintolongstripsboltafterboltofred,whiteandbluecambricanddirectinghowthesestripsshouldbedrapedfromtheceilingandonthewalls;everywhereresoundedthetappingoftackhammers.