from the gatepost； squeezed into
the gap； and pushed。 He got it to move another two feet； enough room for the
snowmobile； and threaded it through。
He became aware of movement ahead of him in the dark。 The hedge animals； all
of them； were clustered at the base of the Overlook's steps； guarding the way
in； the way out。 The lions prowled。 The dog stood with its front paws on the
first step。
Hallorann opened the throttle wide and the snowmobile leaped forward； puffing
snow up behind it。 In the caretaker's apartment； Jack Torrance's head jerked
around at the high； wasplike buzz of the approaching engine； and suddenly began
to move laboriously toward the hallway again。 The bitch wasn't important now。
The bitch could wait。 Now it was this dirty nigger's turn。 This dirty；
interfering nigger with his nose in where it didn't belong。 First him and then
his son。 He would show them。 He would show them that 。。。 that he 。。。 that he
was of managerial timber！
Outside； the snowmobile rocketed along faster and faster。 The hotel seemed to
surge toward it。 Snow flew in Hallorann's face。 The headlamp's oning glare
spotlighted the hedge shepherd's face； its blank and socketless eyes。
Then it shrank away； leaving an opening。 Hallorann yanked at the snowmobile's
steering gear with all his remaining strength； and it kicked around in a sharp
semicircle； throwing up clouds of snow； threatening to tip over。 The rear end
struck the foot of the porch steps and rebounded。 Hallorann was off in a flash
and running up the steps。 He stumbled； fell； picked himself up。 The dog was
growling — again in his head — close behind him。 Something ripped at