Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           “Well,Iwanttoknow!”sheexclaimed,ashehobbledoff,dejectedandmelancholy,leaninguponherarm,“thoughthehadtodance,indeed!Whatnext?Agayoldgrandpa,this.He’dbetterbethinkingofhiscoffin.”

           Itwasalmostmidnight.Thedancedrewtowardsitscloseinastormofjubilation.Theperspiringmusicianstoiledlikegalleyslaves;theguestssingingastheydanced.

           Thegroupofmenreassembledintheharnessroom.EvenMagnusDerrickcondescendedtoenteranddrinkatoast.PresleyandVanamee,stillholdingthemselvesaloof,lookedon,Vanameemoreandmoredisgusted.Dabney,standingtooneside,overlookedandforgotten,continuedtosipsteadilyathisglass,solemn,reserved.GarnettoftheRubyrancho,Keastfromtheranchofthesamename,GethingsoftheSanPablo,andChatternoftheBonanza,leanedbackintheirchairs,theirwaist-coatsunbuttoned,theirlegsspreadwide,laughing—theycouldnottellwhy.Otherranchers,menwhomAnnixterhadneverseen,appearedintheroom,wheatgrowersfromplacesasfardistantasGoshenandPixley;youngmenandold,proprietorsofveritableprincipalities,hundredsofthousandsofacresofwheatlands,adozenofthem,ascoreofthem;menwhowerestrangerstoeachother,butwhomadeitapointtoshakehandswithMagnusDerrick,the“prominentman”ofthevalley.OldBroderson,whomeveryonehadbelievedhadgonehome,returned,thoughmuchsobered,andtookhisplace,refusing,however,todrinkanotherspoonful.