Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           No,therewasnothingtobedone—notonething.Dyke,atlastaloneanddrivinghisteamoutofthetown,turnedthebusinessconfusedlyoverinhismindfromendtoend.Advice,suggestion,evenoffersoffinancialaidhadbeenshowereduponhimfromalldirections.Friendswerenotwantingwhoheatedlypresentedtohisconsiderationallmannerofingeniousplans,wonderfuldevices.Theywereworthless.Thetentacleheldfast.Hewasstuck.

           Bydegrees,ashiswagoncarriedhimfartheroutintothecountry,andopenemptyfields,hisangerlapsed,andthenumbnessofbewildermentreturned.Hecouldnotlookonehouraheadintothefuture;couldformulatenoplansevenforthenextday.Hedidnotknowwhattodo.Hewasstuck.

           Withthelimpnessandinertiaofasackofsand,thereinsslippinglooselyinhisdanglingfingers,hiseyesfixed,staringbetweenthehorses’heads,heallowedhimselftobecarriedaimlesslyalong.Heresignedhimself.Whatdidhecare?Whatwastheuseofgoingon?Hewasstuck.

           TheteamhewasdrivinghadoncebelongedtotheLosMuertosstablesandunguidedasthehorseswere,theytookthecountyroadtowardsDerrick’sranchhouse.Dyke,allabroad,wasunawareofthefacttill,drawnbythesmellofwater,thehorseshaltedbythetroughinfrontofCaraher’ssaloon.

           Theex-engineerdismounted,lookingabouthim,realisingwherehewas.Somuchtheworse;itdidnotmatter.Nowthathehadcomesofaritwasasshorttogohomebythisrouteastoreturnonhistracks.Slowlyheuncheckedthehorsesandstoodattheirheads,watchingthemdrink.