Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           TheHomeranchoftheQuienSabewasinthelittletriangleboundedonthesouthbytherailroad,onthenorthwestbyBrodersonCreek,andontheeastbythehopfieldsandtheMissionlands.Itwastraversedinalldirections,nowbythetrailfromHooven’s,nowbytheirrigatingditch—thesamewhichPresleyhadcrossedearlierintheday—andagainbytheroaduponwhichPresleythenfoundhimself.InitscentrewereAnnixter’sranchhouseandbarns,toppedbytheskeleton-liketoweroftheartesianwellthatwastofeedtheirrigatingditch.Fartheron,thecourseofBrodersonCreekwasmarkedbyacurvedlineofgrey-greenwillows,whileonthelowhillstothenorth,asPresleyadvanced,theancientMissionofSanJuandeGuadalajara,withitsbelfrytowerandred-tiledroof,begantoshowitselfoverthecrestsofthevenerablepeartreesthatclusteredinitsgarden.

           WhenPresleyreachedAnnixter’sranchhouse,hefoundyoungAnnixterhimselfstretchedinhishammockbehindthemosquito-baronthefrontporch,reading“DavidCopperfield,”andgorginghimselfwithdriedprunes.

           Annixter—afterthetwohadexchangedgreetings—complainedofterrificcolicsalltheprecedingnight.Hisstomachwasoutofwhack,butyoubetheknewhowtotakecareofhimself;thelastspell,hehadconsultedadoctoratBonneville,agibberingbusy-facewhohadfilledhimuptotheneckwithadoseofsomehogwashstuffthathadmadehimworse—ahealthylotthedoctorsknew,anyhow.HIScasewaspeculiar.HEknew;pruneswerewhatheneeded,andbythepound.