Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter II
Ontheothersideofthetrackhecouldseetheinfiniteextensionofthebrown,barelandofLosMuertos,turningnowtoasoft,moistwelteroffertilityundertheinsistentcaressingoftherain.Thehard,sun-bakedclodsweredecomposing,thecrevicesbetweendrinkingthewetwithaneager,suckingnoise.Buttheprospectwasdreary;thedistanthorizonswereblottedunderdriftingmistsofrain;theeternalmonotonyoftheearthlayopentothesombrelowskywithoutasingleadornment,withoutasinglevariationfromitsmelancholyflatness.Nearathandthewiresbetweenthetelegraphpolesvibratedwithafainthummingunderthemultitudinousfingeringofthemyriadoffallingdrops,strikingamongthemanddrippingoffsteadilyfromonetoanother.Thepolesthemselvesweredarkandswollenandglisteningwithwet,whilethelittleconesofglassonthetransversebarsreflectedthedullgreylightoftheendoftheafternoon.
AsAnnixterwasabouttodriveon,afreighttrainpassed,comingfromGuadalajara,goingnorthwardtowardBonneville,FresnoandSanFrancisco.Itwasalongtrain,movingslowly,methodically,withameasuredcoughingofitslocomotiveandarhythmiccadenceofitstrucksovertheintersticesoftherails.Ontwoorthreeoftheflatcarsnearitsend,AnnixterplainlysawMagnusDerrick’sploughs,theirbrightcoatingofredandgreenpaintsettingasinglebrilliantnoteinallthisarrayofgreyandbrown.
Annixterhalted,watchingthetrainfilepast,carryingDerrick’sploughsawayfromhisranch,atthisverytimeofthefirstrain,whentheywouldbemostneeded
