Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Atlasthewastograsphissonginallitsentity.Butsuddenlytherewasaninterruption.PresleyhadclimbedthefenceatthelimitoftheQuienSaberanch.BeyondwasLosMuertos,butbetweenthetworantherailroad.Hehadonlytimetojumpbackupontheembankmentwhen,withaquiveringofalltheearth,alocomotive,single,unattached,shotbyhimwitharoar,fillingtheairwiththereekofhotoil,vomitingsmokeandsparks;itsenormouseye,cyclopean,red,throwingaglarefarinadvance,shootingbyinasuddencrashofconfusedthunder;fillingthenightwiththeterrificclamourofitsironhoofs.

           AbruptlyPresleyremembered.ThismustbethecrackpassengerengineofwhichDykehadtoldhim,theonedelayedbytheaccidentontheBakersfielddivisionandforwhosepassagethetrackhadbeenopenedallthewaytoFresno.

           BeforePresleycouldrecoverfromtheshockoftheirruption,whiletheearthwasstillvibrating,therailsstillhumming,theenginewasfaraway,flingingtheechoofitsfranticgallopoverallthevalley.ForabriefinstantitroaredwithahollowdiapasonontheLongTrestleoverBrodersonCreek,thenplungedintoacuttingfartheron,thequiveringglareofitsfireslosingitselfinthenight,itsthunderabruptlydiminishingtoasubduedanddistanthumming.Allatoncethisceased.Theenginewasgone.

           Butthemomentthenoiseoftheenginelapsed,Presley—abouttostartforwardagain—wasconsciousofaconfusionoflamentablesoundsthatroseintothenightfromouttheengine’swake.Prolongedcriesofagony,sobbingwailsofinfinitepain,heart-rending,pitiful.