451 по фаренгейту

           "You’llstinklikeabobcat,butthat’sallright,"saidGranger. 

           "Youknowmyname,"saidMontag. 

           GrangernoddedtoaportablebatteryTVsetbythefire. 

           "We’vewatchedthechase. Figuredyou’dwindupsouthalongtheriver. Whenweheardyouplungingaroundoutintheforestlikeadrunkenelk, wedidn’thideasweusuallydo. Wefiguredyouwereintheriver,whenthehelicoptercamerasswungbackinoverthecity. Somethingfunnythere. Thechaseisstillrunning.Theotherway,though." 

           "Theotherway?" 

           "Let’shavealook." 

           Grangersnappedtheportablevieweron. Thepicturewasanightmare,condensed, easilypassedfromhandtohand,intheforest,allwhirringcolourandflight. Avoicecried: 

           "Thechasecontinuesnorthinthecity! PolicehelicoptersareconvergingonAvenue87andElmGrovePark!" 

           Grangernodded. "They’refaking.Youthrewthemoffattheriver. Theycan’tadmitit. Theyknowtheycanholdtheiraudienceonlysolong. Theshow’sgottohaveasnapending,quick!Iftheystartedsearchingthewholedamnriveritmighttakeallnight. Sothey’resniffingforascape-goattoendthingswithabang.Watch. They’llcatchMontaginthenextfiveminutes!" 

           "Buthow—" 

           "Watch."