"062 (B062) - The Pirate's Ghost (1938-04) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The mail included the usual bundle of newspapers.
Sagebrush Smith dragged the metal box into the bunk house where he could watch it; then he picked up a newspaper idly. His casualness didn't last long.
PROFESSOR MEANDER SURETT DIES
ONE OF WORLD'S GREAT
SCIENTISTS
Body Buried Near Death Valley Laboratory
Believed He Worked Alone There
Vanished Years Ago
"Great Muley steers!" said Sagebrush Smith.
He read the two columns on the first page down to where it said "Turn to Page Two," then discovered that page two was all about Meander Surett. The pictures were of the man Sagebrush had found in the desert, or rather, of the man as he would have been ten years ago in good health.
The story said Meander Surett pioneered wireless; ranked almost with Marconi. Meander Surett formulated the most acceptable theory of cosmic rays. Meander Surett pioneered ultra-short-wave radio.
There was almost everything about Meander Surett except what Sagebrush Smith wanted to know. And that was: Who had found the body? Sagebrush Smith had buried the old scientist three days ago, and he had not yet told any one anything. Who, then, had found out the old fellow was dead? And how had they gotten the news to the papers? There weren't any telephones nearer to Death Valley than the one which ran from town to the Lazy Y.
"Ah, frog feathers!" complained Sagebrush Smith.
IT got dark at eight o'clock. About nine the telephone in the ranch house rang and the operator said, "New York is calling Mr. Hoke McGee."
"This is Hoke," said Hoke McGee, who had happened to answer. "Uh—New York, you say? Who's callin' me from New York?"
"Mr. Barr," said the operator. "Just a moment."
Hoke McGee wrinkled what forehead he had. Barr—Barr. The only Barr he knew was Everett Everett Barr, the lawyer. Hoke McGee and Everett Everett Barr had run a carnival skin game in partnership, but that had been many years ago. Everett Everett had gone a long way since those days. He was an eminent New York attorney, he had written in his last letter, when he had turned down Hoke McGee's invitation to buy a gold mine which Hoke had all nicely salted and waiting.
"Hello, Hoke. How are you?"
It was Everett Everett, all right.
"I'm all right," said Hoke, "but if you're after that gold mine, the price has gone up."
Everett Everett Barr laughed. Mr. Barr had the heartiest and most convincing laugh of any man Hoke McGee had ever heard.
"Hoke, old pal, old boy, old friend"—Mr. Barr was always very effusive—"this is about something big. Something a lot better than any gold mine. It's really gigantic. Colossal. It's actually—well, have you read the newspapers?"
"Yeah," said Hoke wonderingly.
"Then," said Everett Everett Barr, "you know all about the great scientist, Meander Surett, who was found dead in the desert near your ranch?"
"All I know is what I read." Hoke McGee was puzzled.
"Hoke, old pard, old mate, old chunk-off-the-log, you've got to move fast. Grab your airplane, your horse, your jackass or whatever you use for transportation out there and buzz over to where they found the old scientist. You'll have to really step on it, because you've got to get there before they take the box away."
"Box?"
said Hoke McGee dumbly.
"Sure. Box. Made of steel. About three feet long, two feet wide, and a foot high. Locked."
"I don't get this," Hoke complained.
"Hoke, old buddy, old sweetie, you've got to get this box for me. Get it at any cost. Any cost, see? Borrow, bribe, shoot, steal or say please! But get the box for me!"
The gist of this sank into Hoke McGee's head and he leered lovingly at the telephone.
"How much in it for me?" he asked.
"Twenty-five thousand of Uncle Sam's dollars," said Everett Everett Barr.
"Uh—wuh!"
Hoke McGee swallowed twice with difficulty. "Uh—twenty —what did you say?"
"Twenty-five thousand dollars when the box is in my hands, Hoke, old son, old socks, old—"
"One box," Hoke interrupted, "coming up!"
He hung up and got out his handkerchief and removed the wetness from his forehead. Then he played leapfrog over a chair and threw down his hat and jumped on it.
"You know what?" he asked the Lazy Y owner excitedly.
"What?"
"Old Double-Everetts wants to pay us twenty-five thousand smackeroos for that box Sagebrush Smith is totin' around!"
"What? Huh? Great spades! That's just like finding twenty-five thousand!"
"Twenty-five thousand—hell! It's just like findin' a million!"
"How come?
"Anythin' that old Double-Everetts would offer twenty-five grand for is worth a million at least. I know my Everetts!"
Chapter IV. BIG APE AND PIG MAN
WHEN Hoke McGee issued a cordial invitation to sleep in the bunk house with the boys, Sagebrush Smith bull-headedly insisted on sleeping in the ranch house with the powers that were. He figured that if Hoke wanted him in the bunk house that night, the bunk house was no place to be; but what he didn't stop to figure was that Hoke McGee knew him like a book by this time; knew that if Sagebrush was invited to sleep in the bunk house, he would insist on the ranch house instead.
So Sagebrush entered in the ranch house front bedroom, rolled back the bedcovers and looked for rattlesnakes as a matter of habit, then removed his boots and pants and got in bed. All good cowboys sleep in their shirts and underwear.
Sagebrush lay for a while and had vague sensations. He was beginning to feel something like a professional mouse-catcher who had come upon a lion. It was possible that he had taken a bite out of something huge and mysterious. Just what was in that box, anyway? He went to sleep in a bad humor, because he resented things he did not understand.