"Gene Wolfe - Paul's Treehouse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)


The tree at the other side of the house gave too much shade for roses. There was nothing
under it except a little sparse grass and a few stones Paul had dropped.

Russell whistled. "That's way up there, isn't it? Fifty feet if it's an inch. Why'd you let him
build it so high?"

"Sheila doesn't believe in thwarting the boy's natural inclinations." It sounded silly when
Morris said it, and he covered by taking another sip of the whisky.

Russell shook his head. "If he ever falls out of there he'll kill himself."

"Paul's a good climber," Morris said.

"He'd have to be to build that thing." Russell continued to stare, craning his body
backward. Morris wished that he would return to the patio.

"It took him almost two weeks," Morris said.

"He swiped the lumber off the housing project, didn't he?"

"I bought him some of it." For an instant Morris had seen Paul's small, brown head in one
of the windows. He wondered if Russell had noticed it.

"But he swiped most of it. Two-by-fours and four-by-fours; it looks solid."

"I suppose it is." Before he could catch himself he added, "He's got buckets of rocks up
there."

"Rocks?" Russell looked down, startled.

"Rocks about the size of tennis balls. Paul built a sort of elevator and hauled them up. He
must have eight or ten buckets full."

"What's he want those for?"

"I don't know."

"Well, ask him." Russell looked angry at having his curiosity balked. "He's your kid."
Morris swallowed the last of his second drink, saying nothing.
"How does he get up there?" Russell was looking at the tree again. "It doesn't look as if
you could climb it."

"He cut off some of the branches after he got the place built. He has a rope with knots in
it he lets down."

"Where is it?" Russell looked around, expecting to see the rope tangled in the tree's
branches somewhere.

It was bound to come out now. "He pulls it up after him when he goes in there," Morris