"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 310 - Death on Ice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell) DEATH ON ICE
by Maxwell Grant As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," December, 1946. Violent death, set high in the wintry mountains where vacationers revel, confronts The Shadow - as the weird fool killer stalks his helpless victims. CHAPTER I IT was as close as a human can come to really flying. Body bent forward, the man's figure split through the air like some huge prehistoric bird. His wings were on his feet. His arms bent behind him were as carefully placed as a tight rope walker's pole. The extensions of his arms trailed him. The eyes that followed his flight were fixed. It didn't seem possible that he could land safely. It was the last jump of the afternoon and by far the best and longest. Peter Gohan was living up to his international reputation as a ski expert. The platform from which he had taken off made a backdrop behind him. His black figure jet-like in contrast to the snow, flew forward. He was fifty feet from the ground when it happened. The clear crisp air magnified the sound till it reverberated like a shot. Almost magically the flying form of a man crumpled in mid-air. Such a short time before the scene had all been frivolous and gay. Brightly clad spectators, lining the sides of the ski jump, gay with excitement and with joy of the crisp clean air washing out their city bred lungs, had been laughing and exclaiming. Then, the excitement had mounted as jumper succeeded jumper. Each jump seemed a little longer, a little better. Finally when all the amateurs had had their innings, the pros, the ski instructors, had taken over and then the jumps really became magical. It did not seem possible that a human being could glide through the air defying gravity with nothing but some slats of wood. Jim Thompson, one of the instructors at Chez de Silbis, a resort, had made the longest jump of the afternoon. There was only ore man who could possibly beat him and that was his best friend, Peter Gohan. It was Peter who had taken off just now. It was Peter who had looked as if he were setting a new record as he took off from the inclined plane and flew, swifter and swifter and further and further through the air. But now, all that was ended and like a bird, shot down from the sky by a random hunter, the flight was over. The man was no longer one with the sky. He was now of the earth, earthy! |
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