"Lester Del Rey - The Pipes of Pan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Del Rey Lester)

Hobbling about in the rough walk his strange legs necessitated, he came on a few pieces of silver in
another broken crock and pocketed them. From the scraps of conversation he had heard, work was hard
enough for men to find, and he might need this small sum before he found occupation. Already hunger
was creeping over him, or he guessed it was hunger. At least the vacuum in his stomach was as
abhorrent to him as to nature. Heretofore, he had supped lightly on milk and honey as the moon suited
him, but this was a man-sized craving.

Well, if work he must, work he would. The others had come to it, such as still lived. Ishtar, or Aphrodite,
was working somewhere in the East as a nursemaid, though her old taste for men still cost her jobs as
fast as she gained them. Pan's father, Hermes, had been working as ^Postal Telegraph boy the last he'd
seen of him. Even Zeus, proudest of all, wa? doing an electrician's work somewhere, leaving only Ares
still thriving in full god-head. What his own talents might be, time alone would tell, but the rippling
muscles of his body must be put to some good usage. (

Satisfied that there was no more he\could do, he trotted out and plowed his way through the underbrush
that failed to make way for him as it should have. He jingled the money in one pocket thoughtfully as he
hit the road, then drew out the syrinx and began a reedy tune of defiance on it. Work there must be, and
he'd find it.

It was less than half an hour later, but the god's feet were already aching in the tight boxes he had made
for them, and his legs threatened to buckle under the effort it took to ape man's walk. He moved past the
ugly square house and toward the barn where the farmer was unhitching his team.

"Handout or work?" The man's voice was anything but enthusiastic.

"I'm looking for work."

"Uh-huh. Well, you do look strong enough. Living near the city the way I do, I get a lot of fellows in
here, figuring they can always work in the country. But their arms wouldn't make toothpicks for a
jaybird. Know anything about farming?"

"Something." It was more in Demeter's line, but he knew something about everything that grew. "I'm not
asking more than room and board and a little on the side."

The farmer's eyes were appraising. "You do look as if you'd seen fresh air, at that. And you're homely
enough to be honest. Grab a-holt here, and we'll talk it over. I don't rightly need a man, but—Hey!
Whoa, there!"

Pan cursed silently. His god-head was still clinging to him, and the horses sensed the urge to wildness
that was so intimately a part of him. As his hands fell on the tugs, they reared and bucked, lunging
against their collars. He caught at the lines to steady them, but they flattened back their ears and

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whinnied wildly. That was enough; Pan moved back and let the farmer quiet them.

"Afraid I can't use you." The words were slow and decisive. "I use a right

smart amount of horseflesh here, and some people just don't have the knack with them; animals are