"Mike Resnick - Lucifer Jones - A Jaguar Never Changes Its Stripes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

I never did learn his name, but we traveled north along the river for three days, and he was so good at
nabbing fish that I didnтАЩt feel guilty about gobbling half of them while he was hunting for his dinner, and
the only problem I had during that whole journey was when he plucked a pirhana out of the water what
was even hungrier than I was. We rassled to a draw, and I finally tossed him back after promising to
come looking for him again when I was a little better equipped, like with a twelve-gauge shotgun.

Then one day my companion headed for shore. We clambered out, pulled the boat up out of the water,
and then he jabbered at me in some foreign tongue, and I blessed him and forguv him for his sins and
asked if he had any romantically inclined sisters, and finally he went his way and I went mine.

I was still lost, but at least I was lost on a full stomach, and I began walking north along the river. There
was the same fruits and berries that I hadnтАЩt eaten a week ago, but I figgered if a bunch of raw fish,
scales and all, hadnтАЩt killed me, probably nothing growing on a tree could neither, always excepting
poisonous centipedes with bad attitudes.

I was munching on something soft and almost tasty, and wondering how many years it would be before I
hooked up with civilization again, when civilization manifested itself in the distance with the sound of a
gunshot. This was followed by thirty or forty more shots in quick succession, and I realized that IтАЩd
stumbled into one of them revolutions what are even more popular in South America than baseball.

Now, I know some people would have run the other direction when they heard all them shots, but IтАЩd
been in the other direction for close to two weeks and I couldnтАЩt find nothing to recommend it, so I
began walking toward the sound of the gunfire, ready to sell my services to the first side that would make
me a general and promise me three squares a day.

The gunfire became louder and louder, but as near as I could tell it was all coming from one side, and if
that meant the enemy was out of ammunition, or better still all dead, then I knew which side I planned to
join up with. I got to within maybe two hundred yards of it and was just passing a big shade tree when a
voice rang out:

тАЬDuck, Lucifer!тАЭ

I figured it was God Himself shouting at me, because none of these here revolutionaries could have
known my name, and I took my Silent Partner at His word, diving head-first to the ground.

A couple of seconds later I heard a thud! just off to my right.

тАЬWhat the hell are you doing out here in the Motto Grasso?тАЭ said that same voice, and suddenly it
sounded mighty familiar and a lot less Godlike, and I lifted my head up and sure enough, there was my
old friend CapturinтАЩ Clyde Calhoun and maybe eight or nine of his gunbearers.

тАЬWell, howdy, Clyde,тАЭ I said, getting up and brushing myself off. тАЬWhy in tarnation were you shooting at
me?тАЭ

тАЬNot you,тАЭ he said, walking forward. тАЬTake a look.тАЭ

He pointed to where IтАЩd heard the thud, and there, sprawled out on the ground where it had fallen from
an overhead branch, was a jaguar with a hole right betwixt its eyes.

тАЬWell, thatтАЩs one you ainтАЩt bringinтАЩ back alive,тАЭ I said.