"Stanley G. Weinbaum - Valley of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinbaum Stanley G)

to pull this trip out of the red. Remember how the public mobbed the first moon pictures? Our shots
ought to pack 'em to the doors. And the broadcast rights, too; we might show a profit for the Academy."

"What interests me," countered Jarvis, "is a personal profit. A book, for instance; exploration books are
always popular. Martian Deserts—how's that for a title?"
"Lousy!" grunted the captain. "Sounds like a cookbook for desserts. You'd have to call it 'Love Life of a
Martian,' or something like that."

Jarvis chuckled. "Anyway," he said, "if we once get back home, I'm going to grab what profit there is,
and never, never, get any farther from the earth than a good stratosphere plane'll take me. I've learned to
appreciate the planet after plowing over this dried-up pill we're on now."

"I'll lay you odds you'll be back here year after next," grinned the Captain. "You'll want to visit your
pal—that trick ostrich."

"Tweel?" The other's tone sobered. "I wish I hadn't lost him, at that. He was a good scout. I'd never have
survived the dream-beast but for him. And that battle with the pushcart things—I never even had a
chance to thank him."

"A pair of lunatics, you two," observed Harrison. He squinted through the port at the gray gloom of the
Mare Cimmerium. "There comes the sun." He paused. "Listen, Dick—you and Leroy take the other
auxiliary rocket and go out and salvage those films."

Jarvis stared. "Me and Leroy?" he echoed ungrammatically. "Why not me and Putz? An engineer would
have some chance of getting us there and back if the rocket goes bad on us."

The captain nodded toward the stem, whence issued at that moment a medley of blows and guttural
expletives. "Putz is going over the insides of the Ares," he announced. "He'll have his hands full until we
leave, because I want every bolt inspected. It's too late for repairs once we cast off."

"And if Leroy and I crack up? That's our last auxiliary."

"Pick up another ostrich and walk back," suggested Harrison gruffly. Then he smiled. "If you have
trouble, we'll hunt you out in the Ares," he finished. "Those films are important." He turned. "Leroy!"

The dapper little biologist appeared, his face questioning.

"You and Jarvis are off to salvage the auxiliary," the Captain said. "Everything's ready and you'd better
start now. Call back at half-hour intervals; I'll be listening."

Leroy's eyes glistened. "Perhaps we land for specimens—no?" he queried.

"Land if you want to. This golf ball seems safe enough."

"Except for the dream-beast," muttered Jarvis with a faint shudder. He frowned suddenly. "Say, as long
as we're going that way, suppose I have a look for Tweel's home! He must live off there somewhere, and
he's the most important thing we've seen on Mars."

Harrison hesitated. "If I thought you could keep out of trouble," he muttered. "All right," he decided.
"Have a look. There's food and water aboard the auxiliary; you can take a couple of days. But keep in