"H. L. Gold - Trouble With Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gold H. L)

Now he sat in his beautifully dry boat on an excellent game lake far out on Long Islan
desperately aware that any average fish might collapse his taped rod.
What else could he expect? He had missed his train; he had had to wait for the boathou
proprietor; his favorite dry fly was missing; and, since morning, not a fish struck at the bait. Not
single fish!
And it was getting late. He had no more patience. He ripped the cap off a bottle of beer an
drank it, in order to gain courage to change his fly for a less sporting bloodworm. It hurt him, b
he wanted a fish.
The hook and the squirming worm sank. Before it came to rest, he felt a nibble. He sucked
his breath exultantly and snapped the hook deep into the fish's mouth. Sometimes, he thoug
philosophically, they just won't take artificial bait. He reeled in slowly.
"Oh, Lord," he prayed, "a dollar for charity—just don't let the rod bend in half where I tap
it!"
It was sagging dangerously. He looked at it unhappily and raised his ante to five dollars; even
that price it looked im-possible. He dipped his rod into the water, parallel with the line, to remo
the strain. He was glad no one could see him do it. The line reeled in without a fight.
"Have I—God forbid!—got an eel or something not ko-sher?" he mumbled. "A plague o
you—why don't you fight?"
He did not really care what it was—even an eel—anything at all.
He pulled in a long, pointed, brimless green hat.
For a moment he glared at it. His mouth hardened. Then, viciously, he yanked the hat off t
hook, threw it on the floor and trampled on it. He rubbed his hands together in anguish.
"All day I fish," he wailed, "two dollars for train fare, a dollar for a boat, a quarter for bait,
new rod I got to buy—and a five-dollar-mortgage charity has got on me. For what? For you, yo
hat, you!"
Out in the water an extremely civil voice asked politely: "May I have my hat, please?"
Greenberg glowered up. He saw a little man come swim-ming vigorously through the wat
toward him: small arms crossed with enormous dignity, vast ears on a pointed face propelling hi
quite rapidly and efficiently. With serious determination he drove through the water, and, at t
starboard rail, his amazing ears kept him stationary while he looked gravely at Greenberg.
"You are stamping on my hat," he pointed out without an-ger.
To Greenberg this was highly unimportant. "With the ears you're swimming," he grinned in
superior way. "Do you look funny!"
"How else could I swim?" the little man asked politely.
"With the arms and legs, like a regular human being, of course."
"But I am not a human being. I am a water gnome, a relative of the more common mini
gnome. I cannot swim with my arms, because they must be crossed to give an appearance
dignity suitable to a water gnome; and my feet are used for writing and holding things. On t
other hand, my ears are perfectly adapted for propulsion in water. Conse-quently, I employ the
for that purpose. But please, my hat—there are several matters requiring my immediate atten-tio
and I must not waste time."
Greenberg's unpleasant attitude toward the remarkably civil gnome is easily understandable. H
had found someone he could feel superior to, and, by insulting him, his depressed ego cou
expand. The water gnome certainly looked inoffen-sive enough, being only two feet tall.
"What you got that's so important to do, Big Ears?" he asked nastily.
Greenberg hoped the gnome would be offended. He was not, since his ears, to him, we
perfectly normal, just as you would not be insulted if a member of a race of atrophied beings we
to call you "Big Muscles." You might even feel flattered.
"I really must hurry," the gnome said, almost anx-iously. "But if I have to answer yo
questions in order to get back my hat—we are engaged in restocking the Eastern waters with fis