Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Hisfrownhadloweredtoascowl,hisfacewasadarkred,hisheadhadsunk,bull-like,betweenhismassiveshoulders;withoutwinkinghegazedlongandwithtroubledeyesathisknotted,muscularhands,lyingopenonthetablebeforehim,idle,theiroccupationgone.

           Presleyforgothisblacklead.HelistenedtoCaraher.ThroughtheopendoorhecaughtaglimpseofDyke’sback,broad,muscled,boweddown,thegreatshouldersstooping.

           Thewholedramaofthedoubledfreightrateleapedsalientanddistinctintheeyeofhismind.Andthiswasbutoneinstance,anisolatedcase.Becausehewasnearathandhehappenedtoseeit.Howmanyotherswerethere,thelengthandbreadthoftheState?Constantlythissortofthingmustoccur—littleindustrieschokedoutintheirverybeginnings,theairfullofthedeathrattlesoflittleenterprises,expiringunobservedinfar-offcounties,upincanyonsandarroyosofthefoothills,forgottenbyeveryonebutthemonsterwhowasdauntedbythemagnitudeofnobusiness,howevergreat,whooverlookednoopportunityofplunder,howeverpetty,whowithonetentaclegrabbedahundredthousandacresofwheat,andwithanotherpilferedapocketfulofgrowinghops.

           Hewentawaywithoutaword,hisheadbent,hishandsclutchedtightlyonthecorkgripsofthehandlebarsofhisbicycle.Hislipswerewhite.Inhisheartablinddemonofrevoltragedtumultuous,shriekingblasphemies.

           AtLosMuertos,PresleyovertookAnnixter.AsheguidedhiswheelupthedrivewaytoDerrick’sranchhouse,hesawthemasterofQuienSabeandHarraninconversationonthestepsoftheporch.