"Doc Savage Adventure 1934-01 Brand of the Werewolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

A train whistled in the distance, and soon its approaching roar was soon audible.

It was the fast passenger. Smoke and steam rolling, air brakes shrieking, the engine and string of coaches came to a halt. A regular stop for water was made here.

Wilkie came in. Wilkie was the conductor. He had a large head, and an extraordinarily prominent stomach. He looked like a pleasant little goblin in a uniform.

"Hyah, brass mauler!" he greeted cheerfully.

With a dramatic gesture, the operator passed over the telegram.

"Message for one of the passengers, eh?" said Wilkie, and started to stuff the missive in a pocket

"Wait a minute!" ejaculated the telegrapher. "Look who that's for!"

Wilkie eyed the name on the telegram.

"For the love of Mike!" he exclaimed.


"I KNEW you'd heard of him," the operator said triumphantly.

Wilkie absently removed the uniform cap from his enormous head. "Do you reckon this is the same man?"

"I'm betting it is," said the telegrapher. "He's taking a vacation - him and the five men who help him. He has a relative up in the woods along the coast. He's paying a visit there."

"How do you know that?" Wilkie demanded.

The operator grinned. "It's kinda lonesome here, and I km time by listening to the messages that go back and forth over the wires. I heard the message he sent, saying he was coming with his five friends."

Wilkie hesitated, then read the message. As an employee of the company, he probably had a right to do this.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "If that chap was a relative of mine, I wouldn't send him a telegram like this!"

"Me either!" the operator replied. He secured the magazine which he had started to read. "Say, did you see the article in here about that fellow?"

Wilkie glanced at the magazine. "Nope. I'd like to read it, too."

"Take it." The operator passed the magazine over. "It's sure worth reading. It tells some of the things he and his five men have done. I tell you, Wilkie, a lot of the things are hard to believe. This fellow must be a superman!"

"Them writers sometimes exaggerate," Wilkie said. "Not in this magazine," the telegrapher assured him. "It's got a reputation of sticking close to the truth."

The engine whistle moaned out. Echoes came slamming back from the timbered hills.

"That's the ol' highballl" Wilkie wheeled. "Thanks for the magazine. Be seeing you, brass pounder."

The train was moving. With a smoothness that came of long practice, Wilkie swung aboard. He headed for the cars which held drawing-rooms. He walked the swaying aisles with the proficiency of a sailor on a rolling deck of a storm-tossed ship.

Opening the magazine at page nine, he stared at the article. The first paragraph gripped him. Absorbed in his reading, he nearly fell over a suitcase which some traveler had left protruding into the aisle.