"Yan Larri. The Extraordinary Adventures of Karik and Valya (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Hardly ever," Schmidt assured the Professor.
The photographer crossed the threshold and having closed the door
behind him, said quietly: "A thousand apologies! I won't be a minute. . . .
The children must be with you - Karik and Valya, from the second floor. . .
."
"Allow me, allow me! Karik and Valya? Yes, of course, I know them well.
Very fine children. Polite and eager to learn.. . "
"Are they here?"
"No, they haven't been here to-day; in fact I am waiting for them!"
"Very odd !" muttered the stout man. "Jack has so certainly followed
their trail. . . . ."
"But may be it is yesterday's trail?" politely suggested the Professor.
But Schmidt did not succeed in replying. In the further room, Jack was
barking resoundingly, then something rattled, crashed and jingled as if a
cupboard or table had fallen with crockery on it.
The Professor started.
"He may break up everything!" he shouted as if he was going to cry, and
seizing Schmidt by the sleeve pulled him along the dark corridor. "Here!
through here!" he barked, pushing open a door.
No sooner had the Professor and the photographer crossed the threshold
of the room than Jack threw himself at his master's chest with a whimper and
then at once dashed back with a bark. All around the room he darted with his
lead behind him, smelling the bookshelves, jumping on the leather armchair,
twisting himself under the table, all the time throwing himself from side to
side.
On the table, tubes and retorts jingled as they bounced up and down,
tall glass vessels swayed and fine glass tubes shivered. From one violent
jolt the microscope, with its brass sparkling in the sun, started to rock.
The Professor only just succeeded in catching it. But in saving the
microscope, he caught with his sleeve a gleaming nickel container full of
some sort of complicated weights. The container fell and the weights jumped
out and scattered with a jingle over the yellow parquet floor.
"What are you up to, Jack?" gruffly jerked out the photographer. "You
are making an ass of yourself. You're barking, but what is the use? Where
are the children?"
Jack put his head on one side. He pricked up his ears and looked most
attentively at his master, trying to understand what it was that they were
scolding him about.
The photographer shook his head disapprovingly.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Jack! They said you were a
sleuthhound! With a diploma! And all you can do is to chase cats instead of
following a trail. Now, come home! Be generous enough to forgive us. Comrade
Professor, for this disturbance!"
The photographer bowed awkwardly and made towards the door. But here
Jack became possessed as of a devil. He seized his master by the breeches
with his teeth, and planting his feet on the slippery parquet floor, tugged
towards the table.
"What on earth is up with you?" complained the fat man in amazement.
Squealing, Jack once more darted around the table, but then leaped on
the small divan which stood in front of the open window and putting his paws