"072 (B059) - The Yellow Cloud (1939-02) - Evelyn Coulson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

That got a burst of laughter.
"And did Ham fetch his chimpanzee?" inquired a second officer.
This caused another laugh.
The army officer was referring to Habeas Corpus, a pet pig that belonged to Monk, and Chemistry, a pet chimpanzee that was Ham's property. The pig, Habeas Corpus, had ears large enough to be wings, long legs, and an inquisitive snout. The chimp, Chemistry, was a runt animal that was astounding for the reason that he bore an incredible, personal likeness to Monk. It was this likeness which had first caused Ham to collect Chemistry. Each animal had been carefully trained by his owner, and they were a continual source of trouble.
Presence of Monk and Ham was all right with the army men. Almost everybody in the service had heard of Monk Mayfair and Ham Brooks—Monk, who was a famous industrial chemist, and Ham, who was also famous, or infamous, depending on the point of view, as a lawyer.
Monk and Ham were Doc Savage aids, too.
PREPARATIONS, to test-fly the X-plane proceeded, but there was no particular excitement, for as yet nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The out-of-the ordinary was still to come.
Monk and Ham got into a quarrel, of course. But that caused no surprise, for it was what everyone expected.
Monk Mayfair had a ludicrously wide mouth, a nose that did not have the same shape with which it had started life, and the kind of hair that the brush salesman rubs when he says, "Lady, this is exactly what you need to scrub that back porch." Monk was constructed along the lines of—well, no one ever had to look at Monk and wonder where he got that nickname.
Ham Brooks had been selected "The Best Dressed Man in New York" five times running. He was the Beau Brummell of the decade, a tailor's dream, and a never-ending pain in Monk's neck—if one listened only to what Monk said. Ham Brooks had a thin waist, broad shoulders, an orator's wide and rubbery mouth, a voice that made radio announcers hide their faces in envy. He always carried an innocent-looking black cane which contained a sword that he frequently had occasion to use.
Ham got out of the plane and shook his cane under Monk's nose.
"You get funny with me," he yelled, "and I'll amputate those flaps that you call ears."
Monk put his fists on his hips, put an evil look in one eye.
"There ain't nothin' funny about it!" he said. "At ten o'clock tonight, I'm going to break your left leg. At eleven, I'm going to break your right leg. Every hour thereafter, I'm going to break one of your bones, until I run out of bones."
"I didn't do it!" Ham shouted.
"You didn't?"
"No!"
"The heck you didn't!" Monk shoved his face close to Ham's, and snarled, "I can see the devil all over your face!"
"It's the first time," Ham said, "that I ever knew my face was a mirror."
One of the army officers asked Renny, "What's wrong with them now?"
Renny explained, "Somebody took a picture of Monk and sent it to a magazine labeled as an African baboon dressed in man's clothing. The magazine published the picture, claiming it didn't notice the difference. Monk figures Ham sent the picture."
"I see," said the officer.
"Monk saw, too," Renny said, "assorted red."
Renny Renwick had a long jaw and a thin mouth that was always indescribably sad when things were going well. It was doubtful if he could have put either one of his fists in a quart pail.
He got in the X-ship.
"This won't take long," he said. "Watch out for the sand, boys."
The army men got back away from the funnel of sand which the propeller slip stream scooped up, and the plane buzzed off down the beach.
Colonel Renny Renwick was wrong about it not taking long. It was going to take long, long, very long.
THE X-ship went up through the night sky with a bawl and a moan.
"She's sweet," an army man said. "A sweet job."
Monk and Ham had their noses jammed together. They separated them now, and walked over to the radio receiving outfit, which had a loud-speaker so that those interested could gather around and hear.
"This dangerous for Renny?" Monk asked.
"He'll be all right," an army man said.
"Don't wings come off them things sometimes when they test?"
"Well, sometimes," the army man admitted.
"That's what I thought," Monk said.
He sat down by the radio. Ham sat down, also, but out of reach of Monk's long arms. Both indulged in deep silence, apparently thinking of future violent remarks to make to each other.
It was a nice night, except for the clouds. A little chilly, perhaps. The wind—there was always wind in these sand dunes—pushed fine sand around and made faint whispering sounds, and waves crawled up on the beach and burst with sighs like long, fat white hogs.
Renny's voice came from the loudspeaker.
"
Altitude twelve thousand," Renny's voice said. "Getting into clouds."
"
Holy pups!" an army man said. "Look at that rate of climb!"
The wind whispered, the waves sighed, and the loudspeaker went on droning. It told of thousand after thousand feet of climb, of air speed, of engine temperature, or other things.
Suddenly, the voice changed.
"
Holy cow!" it exploded.
Monk and Ham jerked up straight, stared at the radio loud-speaker.
It must have been three minutes before the radio made another sound. Then:
"