Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VI
“Isthatbridgebroke?”
Butattheideaofbeingheld,theboyprotestedattopvoice,badlyfrightened,bewildered,notknowingwhatwastohappennext.
“No,no,Igotmymeattodeliver.Say,youletmego.Say,Iain’tgotnothingtodowithyou.”
Hetuggedatthereins,tryingtoturnthecartabout.Cutter,withhisjack-knife,partedthereinsjustbackofthebit.
“You’llstaywhereyouare,m’son,forawhile.We’renotgoingtohurtyou.Butyouarenotgoingbacktotowntillwesayso.Didyoupassanybodyontheroadoutoftown?”
InreplytotheLeaguers’questions,theyoungbutcheratlasttoldthemhehadpassedatwo-horsebuggyandalotofmenonhorsebackjustbeyondtherailroadtracks.TheywereheadedforLosMuertos.
“That’sthem,allright,”mutteredAnnixter.“They’recomingbythisroad,sure.”
Thebutcher’shorseandcartwereledtoonesideoftheroad,andthehorsetiedtothefencewithoneoftheseveredlines.Thebutcher,himself,waspassedovertoPresley,wholockedhiminHooven’sbarn.
“Well,whatthedevil,”demandedOsterman,“hasbecomeofBismarck?”
Infact,thebutcherhadseennothingofHooven.Theminuteswerepassing,andstillhefailedtoappear.
“What’sheupto,anyways?”
“Betyouwhatyoulike,theycaughthim.JustlikethatcrazyDutchmantogetexcitedandgotoonear.YoucanalwaysdependonHooventolosehishead.”
Fiveminutespassed,thenten.TheroadtowardsGuadalajaralayempty,bakingandwhiteunderthesun.
“Well,themarshalandS.Behrmandon’tseemtobeinanyhurry,either.
