"Robert A. Heinlein - A tenderfoot in space (original version)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

sleep, and the rest of his time spent playing with Charlie. This present
outing had been Charlie’s idea, but any outing was welcome. The
shortage of food was a nuisance but Nixie automatically forgave
Charlie such errors—after all, boys will be boys and a wise dog
accepted the fact. The only thing that troubled him was that Charlie
did not have the happy heart which was a proper part of all hikes.
As they moved past the man in the blue uniform, Nixie felt the man’s
interest in them, sniffed his odor, but could find no real unfriendliness
in it. But Charlie was nervous, alert, so Nixie kept his own attention
high.
The man in uniform said, “Just a moment, son—”
Charlie stopped, Nixie stopped. “You speaking to me, officer?”
“Yes. What’s your dog’s name?”
Nixie felt Charlie’s sudden terror, got ready to attack. He had never
yet had to bite anyone for his boy—but he was instantly ready. The
hair between his shoulder blades stood up.
Charlie answered, “Uh. . . his name is ‘Spot.”
“So?” The stranger said sharply, “Nixie!”



2
Nixie had been keeping his eyes elsewhere, in order not to distract
his ears, his nose, and the inner sense with which he touched
people’s feelings. But he was so startled at hearing this stranger call
him by name that he turned his head and looked at him.
“His name is ‘Spot,’ is it?” the policeman said quietly. “And mine is
Santa Claus. But you’re Charlie Vaughn and you’re going home.” He
spoke into his helmet phone: “Nelson, reporting a pickup on that
Vaughn missing-persons flier. Send a car. I’m in front of the new
supermarket.”
Nixie had trouble sorting out Charlie’s feelings; they were both sad
and glad. The stranger’s feelings were slightly happy but mostly
nothing; Nixie decided to wait
and see. He enjoyed the ride in the police car, as he always enjoyed
rides, but Charlie did not, which spoiled it a little.
They were taken to the local Justice of the Peace. “You’re Charles
Vaughn?”
Nixie’s boy felt unhappy and said nothing.
“Speak up, son,” insisted the old man. “If you aren’t, then you must
have stolen that dog.” He read from a paper “—accompanied by a
small brown mongrel, male, well trained, responds to the name
‘Nixie.’ Well?”
Nixie’s boy answered faintly, “I’m Charlie Vaughn.”
“That’s better. You’ll stay here until your parents pick you up.” The
judge frowned. “I can’t understand your running away. Your folks are
emigrating to Venus, aren’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re the first boy I ever met who didn’t want to make the Big
Jump.” He pointed to a pin on the boy’s lapel. “And I thought Scouts