Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter III
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“Iknowwhoputitin,”clamouredtheother,shakinghisfists,“anddon’tcallmeBuckandI’lldoasIplease.IWILLgobackhome.I’llgetplumboutofhere.SorryIcame.SorryIeverlentmyselftosuchadisgusting,dishonest,dirtybriberygameasthisallto-night.Iwon’tputadimeintoit,no,notapenny.”
Hestormedtothedoorleadingoutupontheporch,deaftoallreason.HarranandPresleyfollowedhim,tryingtodissuadehimfromgoinghomeatthattimeofnightandinsuchastorm,butAnnixterwasnottobeplacated.Hestampedacrosstothebarnwherehishorseandbuggyhadbeenstabled,splashingthroughthepuddlesunderfoot,goingoutofhiswaytodrenchhimself,refusingeventoallowPresleyandHarrantohelphimharnessthehorse.
“What’stheuseofmakingafoolofyourself,Annixter?”remonstratedPresley,asAnnixterbackedthehorsefromthestall.“Youactjustlikeaten-year-oldboy.IfOstermanwantstoplaythegoat,whyshouldyouhelphimout?”
“He’saPIP,”vociferatedAnnixter.“Youdon’tunderstand,Presley.Itrunsinmyfamilytohateanythingsticky.It’s—it’s—it’sheredity.Howwouldyouliketogetintobedattwointhemorningandjamyourfeetdownintoaslimymesslikethat?Oh,no.It’snotsofunnythen.Andyoumarkmywords,Mr.HarranDerrick,”hecontinued,asheclimbedintothebuggy,shakingthewhiptowardHarran,“thisbusinesswetalkedoverto-night—I’mOUTofit.It’syellow.It’stooCURSEDdishonest.”
Hecutthehorseacrossthebackwiththewhipanddroveoutintothepeltingrain
