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

Pan looked at him, a side-long glance that choked off the kid's words, and fell to on the envelopes again.
The air was getting the best of him. His head felt numb and thick, and his whole body was logy and dull.
With what was supposed to be a chummy air, the boy sat his overgrown body on the desk and opened up
his reservoir of personal anecdotes.

"Boy, you should 'a' been with me last night. Good-looking babes— Hm-m-m! Maybe they didn't like
me, too. One little baby'd seen me work on the football team last year, and that didn't do me any harm.
Best high school team in the State we had. You like football, guy?"

Pan's lips twitched. "No!" He redid an envelope that hadn't been properly wetted and reviewed the
reasons for not committing mayhem on the boy. They were good reasons, but their value was
depreciating with the passage of time in the stinking office, and with each new visit from the boy. The
direct bluntness he longed to use came out a little in his voice, and the kid bounced off the table,
scowling.

"O.K., don't let it get you. Hey, whatda you think stamps are? Don't tear them that way. Some of you
hicks are ignorant enough to eat them."

The god caught himself on the table again, throbbing pains running through his head. There was a
conference around the manager's desk and cigar smoke was being added to the thickness of the room. He
groped out behind him for a stool, and eased himself down on it. Something sharp cut into him, and
brought him up with a wild bellow!

The boy giggled. "Dawgonne, I didn't think you'd fall for it. Oldest trick there is, and you still sat right
down on that tack. Boy, you should 'a' seen yourself."



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Pan wasn't seeing himself, but he was seeing red. Homeric Greek is probably the most expressive of all
languages, and his command of it included a good deal

Homer had forgotten to mention. With a sharp leap, his head came down and his body jerked forward.
He missed the horns, now, but his hard skull on the boy's midsection served well enough.

Sudden confusion ran through the office, and the manager rose quickly from his chair and headed
toward the scene. Pan's senses were returning and he knew it was time to leave. The back door opened
on an alley and he didn't wait to ask for directions.

The outer air removed the last traces of his temper and sobered him down, but there was no regret in his
mind. What was done was done, and there was no room in his philosophy for regrets. Of course, word of
it would get back to the employment agency, and he'd have no more jobs from them, but he wanted no
more of such jobs. Maybe Apollo had the right idea in dying.

He made a slow meal in the restaurant, noting that Bailey was not there. He'd liked that young man.
With a rush of extravagance, he bought a beer for himself and hung around, half waiting in hopes of
Bailey's appearance and half planning for tomorrow; but nothing came of his plans.