Девять рассказов
The Laughing Man
Everyafternoon,whenitgotdarkenoughforalosingteamtohaveanexcuseformissinganumberofinfieldpopupsorend-zonepasses,weComanchesreliedheavilyandselfishlyontheChief’stalentforstorytelling.Bythathour,wewereusuallyanoverheated,irritablebunch,andwefoughteachother—eitherwithourfistsorourshrillvoices—fortheseatsinthebusnearesttheChief.(Thebushadtwoparallelrowsofstrawseats.Theleftrowhadthreeextraseats—thebestinthebus—thatextendedasfarforwardasthedriver’sprofile.)TheChiefclimbedintothebusonlyafterwehadsettleddown.Thenhestraddledhisdriver’sseatbackwardand,inhisreedybutmodulatedtenorvoice,gaveusthenewinstallmentof"TheLaughingMan."Oncehestartednarrating,ourinterestneverflagged."TheLaughingMan"wasjusttherightstoryforaComanche.Itmayevenhavehadclassicdimensions.Itwasastorythattendedtosprawlallovertheplace,andyetitremainedessentiallyportable.Youcouldalwaystakeithomewithyouandreflectonitwhilesitting,say,intheoutgoingwaterinthebathtub.
Theonlysonofawealthymissionarycouple,theLaughingManwaskidnappedininfancybyChinesebandits.Whenthewealthymissionarycouplerefused(fromareligiousconviction)topaytheransomfortheirson,thebandits,signallypiqued,placedthelittlefellow’sheadinacarpenter’sviseandgavetheappropriateleverseveralturnstotheright.
