Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter IX
Hespranguptremblingandmadeforanothercorner.
“ByGod,”hecried,“byGod,Imustthinkofsomethingprettyquick!”
Oncemorethelevelofthewheatroseandthegrainsbeganpilingdeeperabouthim.Oncemoreheretreated.Oncemorehecrawledstaggeringtothefootofthecataract,screamingtillhisearssangandhiseyeballsstrainedintheirsockets,andoncemoretherelentlesstidedrovehimback.
Thenbeganthatterribledanceofdeath;themandodging,doubling,squirming,huntedfromonecornertoanother,thewheatslowly,inexorablyflowing,rising,spreadingtoeveryangle,toeverynookandcranny.Itreachedhismiddle.Furiousandwithbleedinghandsandbrokennails,hedughiswayouttofallbackward,allbutexhausted,gaspingforbreathinthedust-thickenedair.Rousedagainbytheslowadvanceofthetide,heleapedupandstumbledaway,blindedwiththeagonyinhiseyes,onlytocrashagainstthemetalhullofthevessel.Heturnedabout,thebloodstreamingfromhisface,andpausedtocollecthissenses,andwitharush,anotherwaveswirledabouthisanklesandknees.Exhaustiongrewuponhim.Tostandstillmeanttosink;tolieorsitmeanttobeburiedthequicker;andallthisinthedark,allthisinanairthatcouldscarcelybebreathed,allthiswhilehefoughtanenemythatcouldnotbegripped,toilinginaseathatcouldnotbestayed.
Guidedbythesoundofthefallingwheat,S.Behrmancrawledonhandsandkneestowardthehatchway.Oncemoreheraisedhisvoiceinashoutforhelp.Hisbleedingthroatandraw,parchedlipsrefusedtoutterbutawheezingmoan
