Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Behrman,wringingthebreathfromhim,wrenchingouttheredlifeofhim—stainingthestreetwiththebloodsuckedfromtheveinsofthePeople!

           Tothefirstfriendthathemet,Dyketoldthetaleofthetragedy,andtothenext,andtothenext.Theaffairwentfrommouthtomouth,spreadingwithelectricalswiftness,overpassingandrunningaheadofDykehimself,sothatbythetimehereachedthelobbyoftheYosemiteHouse,hefoundhisstoryawaitinghim.Agroupformedabouthim.Inhisimmediatevicinitybusinessfortheinstantwassuspended.Thegroupswelled.Oneafteranotherofhisfriendsaddedthemselvestoit.MagnusDerrickjoinedit,andAnnixter.Againandagain,Dykerecountedthematter,beginningwiththetimewhenhewasdischargedfromthesamecorporation’sserviceforrefusingtoacceptanunfairwage.Hisvoicequiveredwithexasperation;hisheavyframeshookwithrage;hiseyeswereinjected,bloodshot;hisfaceflamedvermilion,whilehisdeepbassrumbledthroughouttherunningcommentsofhisauditorslikethethunderousreverberationofdiapason.

           Fromallpointsofview,thestorywasdiscussedbythosewholistenedtohim,nowintheheatofexcitement,nowcalmly,judicially.Oneverdict,however,prevailed.ItwasvoicedbyAnnixter:“You’restuck.Youcanroartillyou’reblackintheface,butyoucan’tbuckagainsttheRailroad.There’snothingtobedone.”“Youcanshoottheruffian,youcanshootS.Behrman,”clamouredoneofthegroup.“Yes,sir;bytheLord,youcanshoothim.”

           “Poorfool,”commentedAnnixter,turningaway.

           Nothingtobedone.