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

steadily. Finally a sign that suited his pocketbook came into

view, and he turned in. picking the only vacant booth. Now he was thankful for the time he'd believed
wasted in studying men's ways.

The menu meant little to him. He studied it carefully, and decided that the safest course was to order one
of their combinations. Fish—no, that was food for Poseidon. But the lamb plate looked better, and the
price fell within his means. '' Lamb," he ordered.

The waitress shifted her eyes from the man behind the counter and wrote it down in the manner of all
waitresses who expect no tip from the customer. "Coffeetearmilk?" she asked. "Rollerwhiterrye?"

"Eh? Oh, milk and roll." Pan had a word for her type in several languages, and was tempted to use it. As
a god—but he wasn't a god now, and men no longer respected their gods, anyway. The cashier eyed his
clothes thoughtfully until he moved in irritation, jingling the few coins in his pocket. Then she went
back to her tickets, flipping gum from one tooth to another in an abstract manner.

The food, when it came, was-S: soggy-looking mess, to him, but that was true of all human food, and he/
supposed it was good enough. At least the plate was better filled than those he had seen through the
windows of the more expensive places, and Pan's appetite was immense. He stuffed half a roll in his
mouth and chewed on it quickly.

Not bad; in fact, he might grow to like this business of eating. His stomach quieted down and made itself
at home, while another half bun followed the first. As he started to pick up the cut of meat and swallow
it, he caught the eyes of another diner, and rumbled unhappily. Should he know the sissies nipped off
shavings with their knives and minced the food down? But he put the meat back on the plate and fell to
as they did. It was best to ape them.

"Mind if I sit here, old-timer?" Pan looked up at a clean-cut young man. "The other booths are filled,
you know."

Where the man sat was no business of his. The seat opposite him was vacant, and he motioned to it. "I
didn't buy it, and your face isn't misshapen. Sit down."

The other grinned good-naturedly and inspected the menu. "Lamb any good?"



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"Seems all right." He was no judge of food, naturally, but it wasn't burned, and he had seen no dirt on it.
At least his stomach was satisfied. He cleaned the last of the gravy from his plate with a bun and
transferred it to his mouth. "At least, it partly fills a man."

"O.K., lamb it is." This time the waitress showed more interest, and even brought water, a thing she'd
neglected before. "Make it lamb, sugar. And a beer. How about you, stranger?"

"Eh?" Unless he was mistaken, that was an invitation, and a welcome one. It was long years since he'd
had a chance to sample even the anemic brew of the modern world, but that had been none of his