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

He examined the first entry in the diary. It was dated almost ten years ago, and the first line started off:

To-day I leave on my attempted flight from Rio de Janeiro to the United States, flying alone.

"Hell!" O’Neel said, and stopped running. "I remember now. This guy was an aviator. He was lost. A lot
of birds went hunting him, and some of them didn’t—"

He stopped, as if he wanted to think over what he had been about to say.

"Some of them didn’t get back," he finished.



Chapter III. THE REMARKABLE TOURIST
AMBER O’NEEL stood still and let the aviator run on. O’Neel was afraid of Aviator David Hutton’s
rusty old automatic, and he also wanted to read that diary and see if it told what had kept the flier in the
unexplored jungle interior for ten years.

O’Neel began to turn the notebook leaves. Flier David Hutton had started off the diary with painstaking
care in writing the lettering; but, as things do, the care had petered out. However, it was all readable.

O’Neel’s interest at first was fragmentary. He glanced up each time a bird squawked, or a jungle bush
moved. It was hot. He moistened his finger to turn the notebook leaves, by wiping it in the sweat on his
forehead.

O’Neel began to be more absorbed in the notebook. A gaudy parrakeet with a nest near by screamed at
him suddenly, and he didn’t even look up.

The birds were beginning to settle back in the thick, moist carpet of green. Bursts of excitement in the
jungle are frequent. Monkeys—curious as humans—drawn by the earlier uproar, arrived and began
squeaking and working closer to the reading man.
One of Amber O’Neel’s half-savage followers—unwilling—came out of the jungle growth and stood
almost beside O’Neel, and the white man didn’t seem to notice.

O’Neel made a gasping sound of unbounded, unbelieving surprise.

The monkeys came closer, behaving a little like humans. One would throw himself forward with a loud
outcry, as if daring the men below to fight, but ready to turn if they wanted to. Another monkey would do
the same thing.



FOUR patriots came out of the jungle carrying the strange gold-clad girl. She was still blindfolded.

O’Neel was ogling the diary. He had it open at about the middle. Across the two pages was a picture, or
sketch, of a crude map, and it terminated at something marked "Klantic."

O’Neel read on.