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

felt the world begin to turn slowly under his feet—

He gave a violent jump, whirled, got his back to the girl, and began to beat himself in the face.

"Hell’s bells!" he squawled. "Hypnotizing me! She’s two thirds witch!"

He had snapped the spell. He ran to the spot where he had been forced by the aviator to drop his guns.
They were still there, and he used them to menace such of his patriots as he could find.

"Grab that girl!" he yelled at them, in their native tongues. "Tie her with bark rope."

The patriots, afraid of the two guns, ran swiftly and encircled the girl, then came toward her. There was
nothing subtle about them. They came in crouching, with arms open ready to grab, like so many wrestlers
approaching an opponent.
They stopped. They did it as if they were one man. And all of them stared at the girl.

"Rush her!" O’Neel yelled.

They not only didn’t rush her, but they acted as if they were going to sleep on their feet.

O’Neel knew a little about hypnotism. He lifted his guns, and they roared, almost together. Two patriots
howled as the bullets burned grooves in their skin. It was amazing shooting.

"Grab her!" O’Neel barked, in the aboriginal tongue.

They grabbed her, four of them—and the next instant all four were flying backward.



IT was as if they had tackled the flying weights on a big engine governor. Amber O’Neel, pop-eyed,
knew he had seen as blinding a bit of applied self-defense as he had ever witnessed.

He had started to rush in himself. But now he held back. One of the men had been barely touched by the
strange girl, it seemed, but now he had a broken arm.

"Seize her, all of you!" O’Neel bawled, and his two guns cracked like vicious whips.

The patriots ran in. They swarmed over the girl, so many of them that she was lost to sight. Out of the
pile of struggling forms came moans and screams. All of these sounds were emitted by the natives. When
the mêlée moved a few yards to the right, senseless forms were left behind.

Unexpectedly, the girl broke free. She got clear. As she ran, her fleetness of foot was startling. Her
bright, golden garments, unscathed by the fray, glistened in the sunlight as she crossed the clearing.

O’Neel, excited and not wanting to lose the wealth represented by the girl’s golden attire, lifted his guns.

"Stop, or I’ll kill you!" he shrieked.

He meant it.