"Doc Savage Adventure 1933-09 The Lost Oasis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

"No."

"Did you ever hear of anybody who had interviewed 'im?"

"No."

"Then shut up! Doc Savage hasn't been interviewed because he don't go for publicity. That shows this is not a stunt!"

The cub scratched his head. He was obviously impressed.

"Just what kind of a bird is this Doc Savage?" he asked curiously.

"Didn't you read my by-line story in the bulldog edition?" snorted the other.

"Yes. You told me to do that so I'd know how a good reporter writes, but I don't mind telling you I thought it was lousy. Was what you put in the story all you know about Doc Savage?"

"Just about," replied the older head, deciding to be patient instead. "Savage don't brag about himself; but who have met him - people he's helped - have told plenty. Some of it is hard to believe.

"For one thing, they claim this bronze guy is qualified as a specialist, not only in surgery and medicine, but in electricity, chemistry, geology, engineering in about everything else! A specialist, mind you! Not a dabbler! They say none of the big shots in those lines are superior to Savage in learning. He can tell 'em all things about their own rackets."

"I don't believe it!" confided the cub.

"Well, that's your privilege. They say furthermore that Samson was a piker alongside this guy Savage when it comes to physical strength. They say Savage can take a horseshoe and tie it in knots."

"I don't believe that, either!" said the cub.

The other glared. "D'you believe anything I tell you?"

"No," grinned the cub. "They told me at the office that you were the biggest liar on the paper."

The veteran gnashed his teeth, but his mock rage gave way to laughter.


THE SEARCHLIGHT of a tub swept the bay at this moment, and both reporters staring at it, forgot their conversation.

A short distance from shore, a small steamer was visible. The vessel was primarily a freight carrier, but her superstructure held passenger accommodations. She was neatly painted. As the searchlight swept the craft, the lettering on the bows was momentarily readable:

YANKEE BEAUTY

"That's the tub!" ejaculated the older reporter. "We've got to get aboard and interview the mysterious party who signed himself 'Imperiled!' and offered the reward. Imagine what a story must be behind that! I'd give a lot to scoop these other birds on the yarn!"

"Why isn't the steamer tying up at the pier?" asked the cub.

"The company which owns her is small and has only one pier, which is occupied by another boat of the same line until midnight; then the boat sails. The Yankee Beauty will come alongside the dock when the midnight boat leaves and makes room."

The veteran reporter cast a wily glance at other gentlemen of the press and their photographers, who were near by. Then he nudged the cub. "Let's go!"

The cub exclaimed, "But what - "

"Sh-h-h-h!" The journalist dean guided his satellite away from the other scribes, taking care that their exodus attracted no attention. When well out of earshot, he made explanations.