"William Tenn - Eastward Ho!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tenn William)

looked a little newer, a little cleaner.
Jerry bowed low before the chief, spreading his arms apart, palms down.
"I come from New York, from our chief," he mumbled. In spite of himself, he was more than a little
frightened. He wished he knew their names so that he could relate them to specific events. Although he
knew what their names would be likeтАФapproxi-mately. The Sioux, the Seminole, all the Indian tribes
renascent in power and num-bers, all bore names garlanded with anachronism. That queer mixture of
several lev-els of the past, overlaid always with the cocky, expanding present. Like the rifle and the
spears, one for the reality of fighting, the other for the symbol that was more im-portant than reality. Like
the use of wigwams on campaign, when, according to the rumors that drifted smokily across country,
their slave artisans could now build the meanest Indian noble a damp-free, draftproof dwelling such as
the President of the United States, lying on his special straw pallet, did not dream about. Like
paint-splattered faces peering through newly reinvented, crude microscopes. What had micro-scopes
been like? Jerry tried to remember the Engineering Survey Course he'd taken in his freshman yearтАФand
drew a blank. All the same, the Indians were so queer, and so awesome. Sometimes you thought that
destiny had meant them to be conquerors, with a conqueror's careless inconsistency. Sometimes...
He noticed that they were waiting for him to continue. "From our chief," he re-peated hurriedly. "I
come with a message of importance and many gifts."
"Eat with us," the old man said. "Then you will give us your gifts and your message."
Gratefully, Jerry squatted on the ground a short distance from them. He was hun-gry, and among the
fruit in the bowls he had seen something that must be an orange. He had heard so many arguments about
what oranges tasted like!
After a while, the old man said, "I am Chief Three Hydrogen Bombs. This"тАФpoint-ing to the young
manтАФ"is my son, Makes Much Radiation. And this"тАФpointing to the middle-aged NegroтАФ"is a sort of
compatriot of yours."
At Jerry's questioning look, and the chief's raised finger of permission, the Negro explained.
"Sylvester Thomas, Ambassador to the Sioux from the Confederate States of America."
"The Confederacy? She's still alive? We heard ten years agoтАФ"
"The Confederacy is very much alive, sir. The Western Confederacy, that is, with its capital at
Jackson, Mississippi. The Eastern Confederacy, the one centered at Rich-mond, Virginia, did go down
under the Seminole. We have been more fortunate. The Arapaho, the Cheyenne, and"тАФwith a nod to
the chiefтАФ"especially the Sioux, if I may say so, sir, have been very kind to us. They allow us to live in
peace, so long as we till the soil quietly and pay our tithes."
"Then would you know, Mr. ThomasтАФ" Jerry began eagerly. "That is...the Lone Star
RepublicтАФTexasтАФIs it possible that Texas, too...?"
Mr. Thomas looked at the door of the wigwam unhappily. "Alas, my good sir, the Republic of the
Lone Star Flag fell before the Kiowa and the Comanche long years ago when I was still a small boy. I
don't remember the exact date, but I do know it was before even the last of California was annexed by
the Apache and the Navajo, and well before the nation of the Mormons under the august leadership
ofтАФ"
Makes Much Radiation shifted his shoulders back and forth and flexed his arm muscles. "All this
talk," he growled. "Paleface talk. Makes me tired."
"Mr. Thomas is not a paleface," his father told him sharply. "Show respect! He's our guest and an
accredited ambassadorтАФyou're not to use a word like paleface in his presence!"
One of the other, older warriors near the youth spoke up. "In ancient days, in the days of the heroes,
a boy of Makes Much Radiation's age would not dare raise his voice in council before his father.
Certainly not to say the things he just has. I cite as reference, for those interested, Robert Lowie's
definitive volume, The Crow Indians, and Lessor's fine piece of anthropological insight, Three Types of
Siouan Kinship. Now, whereas we have not yet been able to reconstruct a Siouan kinship pattern on the
classic model described by Lesser, we have developed a working arrangement thatтАФ"
"The trouble with you, Bright Book Jacket," the warrior on his left broke in, "is that you're too much