Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter V.
Annixtersprangfromthewindow,andranforward,Presleyfollowing.
TherewasDyke,hatless,hispistolinhishand,agauntterriblefigurethebeardimmeasurablylong,thecheeksfallenin,theeyessunken.Hisclothesrippedandtornbyweeksofflightandhidinginthechaparral,wereraggedbeyondwords,thebootswereshredsofleather,bloodytotheanklewithfuriousspurring.
“Annixter,”heshouted,andagain,rollinghissunkeneyes,“Annixter,Annixter!”
“Here,here,”criedAnnixter.
Theotherturned,levellinghispistol.
“Givemeahorse,givemeahorse,quick,doyouhear?Givemeahorse,orI’llshoot.”
“Steady,steady.Thatwon’tdo.Youknowme,Dyke.We’refriendshere.”
Theotherloweredhisweapon.
“Iknow,Iknow,”hepanted.“I’dforgotten.I’munstrung,Mr.Annixter,andI’mrunningformylife.They’renottenminutesbehindme.”
“Comeon,comeon,”shoutedAnnixter,dashingstablewards,hissuspendersflying.
“Here’sahorse.”
“Mine?”exclaimedPresley.“Hewouldn’tcarryyouamile.”
Annixterwasalreadyfarahead,trumpetingorders.
“Thebuckskin,”heyelled.“Getherout,Billy.Where’sthestable-man?Getoutthatbuckskin.Getoutthatsaddle.”
Thenfollowedminutesoffurioushaste,Presley,Annixter,Billythestable-man,andDykehimself,dartinghitherandthitherabouttheyellowmare,buckling,strapping,cinching,theirlipspale,theirfingerstremblingwithexcitement.
“Wantanythingtoeat?”Annixter’sheadwasunderthesaddleflapashetoreatthecinch.
