The Octopus
By Frank Norris.
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Dedicated
to
my wife
The Trilogy of The Epic of the Wheat will include the following novels:
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The Octopus, a Story of California.
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The Pit, a Story of Chicago.
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The Wolf, a Story of Europe.
These novels, while forming a series, will be in no way connected with each other save only in their relation to (1) the production, (2) the distribution, (3) the consumption of American wheat. When complete, they will form the story of a crop of wheat from the time of its sowing as seed in California to the time of its consumption as bread in a village of Western Europe.
The first novel, The Octopus, deals with the war between the wheat grower and the Railroad Trust; the second, The Pit, will be the fictitious narrative of a “deal” in the Chicago wheat pit; while the third, The Wolf, will probably have for its pivotal episode the relieving of a famine in an Old World community.
Principal Characters in the Novel
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Magnus Derrick (the “Governor”), proprietor of the Los Muertos Rancho
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Annie Derrick, wife of Magnus Derrick
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Lyman Derrick and Harran Derrick, sons of Magnus Derrick
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Broderson and Osterman, friends and neighbours of Magnus Derrick
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Annixter, proprietor of the Quien Sabe Rancho
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Hilma Tree, a dairy girl on Annixter’s ranch
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Genslinger, editor of the Bonneville Mercury, the railroad organ
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S. Behrmann, representative of the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad
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Presley, a protégé of Magnus Derrick
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Vanamee, a sheep herder and range rider
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Angéle Varian
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Father Sarria, a Mission priest
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Dyke, a blacklisted railroad engineer
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Mrs. Dyke, Dyke’s mother
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Sidney Dyke, Dyke’s daughter
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Caraher, a saloon keeper
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Hooven, a tenant of Derrick
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Mrs. Hooven, his wife
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Minna Hoove, his daughter
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Cedarquist, a manufacturer and shipbuilder
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Mrs. Cedarquist, his wife
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Garnett, Dabney, Keast, and Chattern, ranchers of the San Joaquin Valley
The Octopus
A Story of California
Book I
I
Just after passing Caraher’s saloon, on the County Road that ran south from Bonneville, and that divided the Broderson ranch from that of Los Muertos, Presley was suddenly aware of the faint and prolonged blowing of a steam whistle that he knew must come from the railroad shops near the depot at Bonneville. In starting out from the ranch house that morning, he had forgotten his watch, and was now perplexed to know whether the whistle was blowing for twelve or for one o’clock. He hoped the former. Early that morning he had decided to make a long excursion through the neighbouring country, partly on foot and partly on his bicycle, and now noon was come already, and as yet he had hardly started. As he was leaving the house after breakfast, Mrs. Derrick had asked him to go for the mail at Bonneville, and he had not been able to refuse.
He took a firmer hold of the cork grips of his handlebars—the road being in a wretched condition after the recent hauling of the crop—and quickened his pace. He told himself that, no matter what the time was, he would not stop for luncheon at the ranch house, but would push on to Guadalajara and have a Spanish dinner at Solotari’s, as he had originally planned.
There had not been much of a crop to haul that year. Half of the wheat on the Broderson ranch had failed entirely, and Derrick himself had hardly raised more than enough to supply seed for the winter’s sowing. But such little hauling as there had been had reduced the roads thereabouts to a lamentable condition, and, during the dry season of the past few months, the layer of dust had deepened and thickened to such an extent that more than once Presley was obliged to dismount and trudge along on foot, pushing his bicycle in front of him.
It was the last half of September, the very end of the dry season, and all Tulare County, all the vast reaches of the San Joaquin Valley—in fact all South Central California, was bone dry, parched, and baked and crisped after four months of cloudless weather, when the day seemed