Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter II
Insilence,grim,bitter,infinitelysad,thethreemenasifatthatmomentactuallystandinginthebar-roomofCaraher’sroadsidesaloon,contemplatedtheslowsinking,theinevitablecollapseandsubmergingofoneoftheircompanions,thewreckofacareer,theruinofanindividual;anhonestman,strong,fearless,upright,struckdownbyacolossalpower,pervertedbyanevilinfluence,goreelingtohisruin.
“Iseehisfinish,”repeatedAnnixter.“ExitDyke,andscoreanothertallyforS.Behrman,ShelgrimandCo.”
Hemovedawayimpatiently,looseningthetie-ropewithwhichthebuckskinwasfastened.Heswunghimselfup.
“Godforusall,”hedeclaredasherodeaway,“andthedeviltakethehindmost.Good-bye,I’mgoinghome.Istillhaveonealittlelonger.”
HegallopedawayalongtheLowerRoad,inthedirectionofQuienSabe,emergingfromthegroveofcypressandeucalyptusabouttheranchhouse,andcomingoutuponthebarebrownplainofthewheatland,stretchingawayfromhiminapparentbarrennessoneitherhand.
Itwaslateintheday,alreadyhisshadowwaslonguponthepaddeddustoftheroadinfrontofhim.Onahead,alongwaysoff,andalittletothenorth,thevenerablecampanileoftheMissionSanJuanwasglintingradiantinthelastraysofthesun,whilebehindhim,towardsthenorthandwest,thegildeddomeofthecourthouseatBonnevillestoodsilhouettedinpurplishblackagainsttheflamingwest.Annixterspurredthebuck-skinforward.Hefearedhemightbelatetohissupper.HewonderedifitwouldbebroughttohimbyHilma.
