"Robert A. Heinlein - Between Planets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

without your snores to soothe me. What's the rush?"
"I don't know. I really don't. The Head says that my folks have war jitters
and want to drag their little darling to safety. But that's silly, don't you
think? I mean, people are too civilized to go to war today."
Jack did not answer. Don waited, then said sharply, "You agree, don't you?
There won't be any war."
Jack answered slowly, "Could be. Or maybe not."
"Oh, come off it!"
His roommate answered, "Want me to help you pack?"
"There isn't anything to pack."
"How about all that stuff?"
"That's yours, if you want it. Pick it over, then call in the others and let
them take what they like."
"Huh? Gee, Don, I don't want your stuff. I'll pack it and ship it after you."
"Ever ship anything 'tween planets? It's not worth it."
"Then sell it. Tell you what, we'll hold an auction right after supper."
Don shook his head. "No time. I'm leaving at one o'clock."
"What? You're really blitzing me, kid. I don't like this."
"Can't be helped." He turned back to his sorting.
Several of his friends drifted in to say goodbye. Don himself had not spread
the news and he did not suppose that the headmaster would have talked, yet
somehow the grapevine had spread the word. He invited them to help themselves
to the plunder, subject to Jack's prior claim.
Presently he noticed that none of them asked why he was leaving. It bothered
him more than if they had talked about it. He wanted to tell someone, anyone,
that it was ridiculous to doubt his loyalty-and anyhow there wasn't going to
be a war.
Rupe Salter, a boy from another wing, stuck his head in, looked over the
preparations. "Running out, eh? I heard you were and thought I'd check up."
"I'm leaving, if that's what you mean."
"That's what I said. See here, `Don Jaime,' how about that circus saddle of
yours? I'll take it off your hands if the price is right."
"It's not for sale."
"Huh? No horses where you're going. Make me a price."
"It belongs to Jack here."
"And it's still not for sale," Moreau answered promptly.
"Like that, eh? Suit yourself." Salter went on blandly, "Another thing you
willed that nag of yours yet?"
The boys' mounts, with few exceptions, were owned by the school, but it was a
cherished and long-standing privilege of a boy graduating to "will" his
temporary ownership to a boy of his choice. Don looked up sharply; until that
moment he had not thought about Lazy. He realized with sudden grief that he
could not take the little fat clown with him-nor had he made any arrangements
for his welfare. "The matter is settled," he answered, added to himself: as
far as you are concerned.
"Who gets him? I could make it worth your while. He's not much of a horse, but
I want to get rid of the goat I've had to put up with."
"It's settled."
"Be sensible. I can see the Head and get him anyhow. Willing a horse is a
graduating privilege and you're ducking out ahead of time."