"coffinfortheavenger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepperman Emile C)

ran out into the street after a small mongrel dog.

"Come back, Tony!" she cried.

Tony was a brown mongrel, a little more than a year old, and quite playful. He wanted the
girl to chase him, and he yelped and ran in front of the truck.

There was room for the truck to swerve if the driver had wanted to make a sudden twist of
the wheel. But he only muttered a curse and let the heavy wheels roll over the little dog's
body.

It seemed that he took a certain amount of satisfaction in doing that. But when he stopped
the truck and descended he managed to so control his expression that nothing of the sadistic
pleasure showed in his face. He spread his hands as he spoke to the small crowd which had
gathered there over the dog's broken carcass.

"You see how it is," he explained. "The dog ran right in front of me. It's a good thing the
girl didn't follow him."

"That's right," someone said. "It wasn't the driver's fault. Look at that heavy truck,
loaded with coffins. How could he have stopped?"

But the little girl with the long black braids was weeping unrestrainedly.

"You could have swung out!" she cried through her tears. "You could have tried to miss
him. You didn't even try!"

The driver shrugged and looked for sympathy to the crowd. "She shouldn't be out playing
with her dog this late, anyway. She should be in bed. It wouldn't have happened if she had
been asleep in bed where she belongs."

"Yes," said the same woman who had spoken before. "That Emma Puglese is always picking
up stray dogs. She'll cause a real accident with them yet. Go on home, Emma Puglese. Your
mother shouldn't let you out so late."

Emma Puglese wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're a bad man," she said to the truck
driver. "You didn't have to kill my dog. You did it on purpose. I'll find some way to get
even. Yes, I will!"

She cast a glance at the name on the truck, and then sat down on the curb, covered her
face with her hands, and gave way to unrestrained sobs.

The driver, seeing that the sympathy of the crowd was veering to the girl, dug into his
pocket and drew out some money.

"Here, girl," he said. "Here's three dollars. Go buy yourself another dog. It wasn't my
fault, but I don't like that you should cry.,'

Emma Puglese thrust the bills away. "I don't want your money. You're a bad man. I won't
touch your money!"