Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VI
“Oh,yes,”criedCaraher,thelengthofthetable,“that’saprettygoodone.Tellusanother.”
“Thatremindsmeofastory,”hazardedoldBrodersonuncertainly;“oncewhenIwasaladinUkiah,fiftyyears.”
“Oh,yes,”criedhalfadozenvoices,“THAT’Saprettygoodone.Tellusanother.”
“Eh—wh—what?”murmuredBroderson,lookingabouthim.“I—Idon’tknow.ItwasUkiah.You—you—youmixmeallup.”
Assoonassupperwasover,thefloorwasclearedagain.TheguestsclamouredforaVirginiareel.Thelastquarteroftheevening,thetimeofthemostriotousfun,wasbeginning.Theyoungmencaughtthegirlswhosatnexttothem.Theorchestradashedoffintoarollickingmovement.Thetwolineswereformed.Inasecondoftimethedancewasunderwayagain;theguestsstillwearingthePhrygianbonnetsandlibertycapsofpinkandbluetissuepaper.
Butthegroupofmenoncemoreadjournedtotheharnessroom.Freshboxesofcigarswereopened;theseventhbowloffertiliserwasmixed.Ostermanpouredthedregsofaglassofituponhisbaldhead,declaringthathecouldfeelthehairbeginningtogrow.
ButsuddenlyoldBrodersonrosetohisfeet.
“Aha,”hecackled,“I’Mgoingtohaveadance,Iam.ThinkI’mtooold?I’llshowyouyoungfellows.I’maregularoldROOSTERwhenIgetstarted.”
Hemarchedoutintothebarn,theothersfollowing,holdingtheirsides.HefoundanagedMexicanwomanbythedoorandhustledher,allconfusedandgiggling,intotheVirginiareel,thenatitsheight.Everyonecrowdedaroundtosee.
