Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Iguessthat’sthebiggestlotofsheepYOUeversaw.Youmightwriteapoemabout’em.Lamb—ram;sheepgraze—sunnydays.Catchon?”

           BeyondBrodersonCreek,asPresleyadvanced,trampingalongonfootnow,thelandopenedoutagainintothesamevastspacesofdullbrownearth,sprinkledwithstubble,suchashadbeencharacteristicofDerrick’sranch.Totheeastthereachseemedinfinite,flat,cheerless,heat-ridden,unrollinglikeagiganticscrolltowardthefaintshimmerofthedistanthorizons,withhereandthereanisolatedlive-oaktobreakthesombremonotony.Butborderingtheroadtothewestward,thesurfaceroughenedandraised,clamberinguptothehigherground,onthecrestofwhichtheoldMissionanditssurroundingpeartreeswerenowplainlyvisible.

           JustbeyondtheMission,theroadbentabruptlyeastward,strikingoffacrosstheSeedranch.ButPresleylefttheroadatthispoint,goingonacrosstheopenfields.Therewasnolongeranytrail.Itwastowardthreeo’clock.Thesunstillspun,asilent,blazingdisc,highintheheavens,andtrampingthroughtheclodsofuneven,brokenploughwasfatiguingwork.Theslopeofthelowestfoothillsbegun,thesurfaceofthecountrybecamerolling,and,suddenly,ashetoppedahigherridge,Presleycameuponthesheep.

           Alreadyhehadpassedthelargerpartoftheherd—aninterveningriseofgroundhavinghiddenitfromsight.Now,asheturnedhalfwayabout,lookingdownintotheshallowhollowbetweenhimandthecurveofthecreek,hesawthemveryplainly.