"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 017 - Thousand-Headed Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The fake mechanic grew suddenly earnest. "I say-if I was in a jam, and went to the bronze man-he'd help
me? That it?"

"Righto. Doc Savage would do just that."
"That's the bronze man's name - Savage?"

"Doc Savage, righto."

DOWN THE field a man yelled. "The Savage plane! She's comin'!"

Excitement swept the throng. Photographers who had been snapping the assemblage hastily charged
cameras with new plates and sprinkled flash light powder in gun troughs. The field flood lamps were
switched on, and "bobbies" cleared the landing runways of spectators.

Croydon was agog.

The foggy night sky spawned a plane. Engines barely kicking over, air awhistle around struts and wing
surfaces, the ship skidded from side to side as the pilot fishtailed away surplus speed. It was an all-metal,
tri-motored amphibian, and it settled on the field with the delicacy of a bird.

"Deuced good hand on those controls," a pilot spectator remarked.

The plane's engines blooped, kicking the ship around. Obviously the occupants were seeking to avoid the
crowd.

The throng surged forward, however, and in a moment had surrounded the plane. Motors were switched
off, so that the propellers would not damage overenthusiastic individuals.

The thin man who had been shot at went with the rest. He kept a sharp lookout as he ran, hence was not
among the first to reach the amphibian. Growling, he tugged and elbowed to get through. Others were
doing the same thing, He did not make much headway.

"Doc Savage!" the crowd yelled.

The photographers demanded pictures, the reporters interviews. Autograph hounds waved little books.

Bobbies jostled and shouted to bring order. They were ignored. Quieting the uproar seemed beyond
human power.

But the crowd suddenly became silent.

The bronze man had appeared, standing in the cabin door.

It was remarkable. So striking was the man that quiet fell. He was a giant - the comparative proportions
of the cabin door showed that. Under the bronze skin of his neck and his hands, great tendons reposed.
The thews were like bundles of piano wires. They indicated fabulous strength.

Probably the thing which did most to arrest the crowd's attention was the bronze man's eyes. They were
weirdly impressive eyes. Their hue was of flake-gold. They caught and reflected tiny lights from the field
floodlamps.