"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 049 - The Mental Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

He stood up, satisfied she was tied.

"Come here, you fellows!" he yelled at his patriots. "We’re going to catch that aviator!"



THE aviator was traveling like a fellow who would be easy to catch. He hooked the ground with his toes
as he ran. At times, weaving to pass trees, he did not quite make it, and the shocks knocked him reeling.
Almost any kind of a bush tripped him.

He was collecting mud and scratches. The unusual leather skirt which he wore did not protect him much.
He kept the . 45 automatic in his hand, as if afraid of losing it. And frequently he stopped to listen.

He, like Amber O’Neel, had a habit of talking to himself, and Ireland was now in his voice. It hadn’t
been so noticeable before.

"Sure, and they’ll follow me!" he muttered. "The gold Z is wearin’ will make that white devil greedy. And
Z won’t tell the scut where it came from, so he’ll be followin’ me ve-r-ra soon!"

He pronounced it as "Z," the last word in the English alphabet.

He smashed his face against a tree which he either didn’t see or couldn’t avoid, got up, then ran out.

"Or mayze Z will steer the scamp wrong long enough so that I can get away." He thought a bit, then
amended: "No, she won’t! She’ll do anything she can to keep me from gettin’ to the outside with news of
Klantic and the secret!"

A sharp stick would have disemboweled him, except that he saw it in time.

"Mother of Mercy!" he mumbled. "I’ve gotta get to the world with this! It’s the biggest thing that’s ever
happened to mankind!"

He stumbled into a thorn thicket and came out a sight that was not pleasant to look at. That stopped his
muttering to himself, and evidently started him thinking. Finally, he stopped.

"Sure, and I can’t make it!" he told himself hollowly.

He tried to sit on the ground, but fell, utterly exhausted.

"Overwork—strain—planning to escape—got me down!" he mumbled. "Shouldn’t have saved—so big
share of rations—for escape food supply. Starved myself. Didn’t need it when—found they hadn’t
destroyed plane. But how was I—know they hadn’t destroyed it?"

He shook his head solemnly over that mistake.

"If was only some way—of getting diary—outside." His voice had a whine of despair.

He fumbled in a pocket cleverly contrived to strap to his leg under his leather skirt. The notebook which
came out was an expensive one. Otherwise it would not have stood the wear it had stood.