Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Andthegirl,withhereyesstillsmartingasshelooksfromherwhitebreasttoherredone,shestartslaughing.AndSefeltandthedoctor,andall.

           Itstartedslowandpumpeditselffull,swellingthemenbiggerandbigger.Iwatched,partofthem,laughingwiththem—andsomehownotwiththem.Iwasofftheboat,blownupoffthewaterandskatingthewindwiththoseblackbirds,highabovemyself,andIcouldlookdownandseemyselfandtherestoftheguys,seetheboatrockingthereinthemiddleofthosedivingbirds,seeMcMurphysurroundedbyhisdozenpeople,andwatchthem,us,swingingalaughterthatrangoutonthewaterinever-wideningcircles,fartherandfarther,untilitcrasheduponbeachesalloverthecoast,onbeachesalloverallcoasts,inwaveafterwaveafterwave.

           Thedoctorhadhookedsomethingoffthebottomonthedeeppole,andeverybodyelseonboardexceptGeorgehadcaughtandlandedafishbythetimeheliftedituptowherewecouldevenseeit—justawhitishshapeappearing,thendivingforthebottominspiteofeverythingthedoctortriedtodotoholdit.Assoonashe’dgetitupnearthetopagain,liftingandreelingatitwithtight,stubbornlittlegruntsandrefusinganyhelptheguysmightoffer,itwouldseethelightanddownitwouldgo.

           Georgedidn’tbotherstartingtheboatagain,butcamedowntoshowushowtocleanthefishoverthesideandripthegillsoutsothemeatwouldstaysweeter.