"L. Sprague De Camp - The Gnarly Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Camp L Sprague)

ohiongata. I think mavhc the lightning did something to my medulla to
speed it
An'. ~va~ I never cot ~in older aftcr that. Physic~U~, that is~
And except for those broken bones I told you about. I was thirty-
three at the time, more or less. We didn't keep track of ages. I look
older now, because the lines in your face are bound to get sort of
set after a few thousand years, and because our hair was always gray
at the ends. But I can still tie an ordinary Homo sapiens in a knot
if I want to."
"Then you're-you mean to say you're-you're trying to tell me
you're-" -
"A Neanderthal man? Homo neanderthalensis? That's right"

Matilda Saddler's hotel room was a bit crowded, with the gnarly man,
the frosty Blue, the rustic Jeffcott, Dr. Saddler herself, and Harold
McGannon the historian. This McGannon was a small man, very neat and
pink-skinned. He looked more like a New York Central director than a
professor. Just now his expression was one of fascination. Dr.
Saddler looked full of pride; Professor Jeffcott looked interested
but puzzled; Dr. Blue looked bored. (He hadn't wanted to come in the
first place.) The gnarly man, stretched out in the most comfortable
LhaiL and puffinc hic ever~rovu pipe. ~ecmed to bc ening tiirnerl~.
McGannon was asking a question. "Well, Mr.-.-Gaffney? I suppose
that's your name as much as any."
"You might say so," said the gnarly man. "My original name was
something like Shining Hawk. But I've gone under hundreds of names
since then. If you register in a hotel as 'Shining Hawk' it's apt to
attract attention. And I try to avoid that."
"Why?" asked MeGannon.
The gnarly man looked at his audience as one might look at
willfully stupid children. "I don't like trouble. The best way to
keep out of trouble is not to attract attention. That's why I have to
pull up stakes and move every ten or fifteen years. People might get
curious as to why I never got any older."
"Pathological liar," murmured Blue. The words were barely
audible, but the gnarly man heard them.
"You're entitled to your opinion, Dr. Blue," he said affably.
"Dr. Saddler's doing me a favor, so in return I'm letting you all
shoot questions at me. And I'm answering. I don't give a damn whether
you believe me or not."
MeGannon hastily threw in another question. "How is it that you
have a birth certificate, as you say you have?"
"Oh, I knew a man named Clarence Gaffney once. He got killed by
an automobile, and I took his name."
"Was there any reason for picking this Irish background?"
"Are you Irish, Dr. McGannon?"
"Not enough to matter."
"Okay. I didn't want to hurt any feelings. It's my best bet.
There are real Irishmen with upper lips like mine."
Dr. Saddler broke in. "I meant to ask you, Clarence." She put a