"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 101 - The Green Eagle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"The name is—"

"I know what your name is," D’Orr said. "And it’ll be m-u-d if you don’t show more action around here."

With a valiant effort, Ben said, "Yes, boss."

"It’s those four old maids from Denver who want you."

"I was afraid of that," Ben said.

"Please be careful about making slighting remarks about the guests. Especially as high-paying guests as
these four. They’ve got the bridal suite."

Ben said, "That’s the only way they’ll ever see the inside of a bridal suite, too." But he said it walking
away, so that D’Orr did not hear. Yesterday Ben would have made the remark to D’Orr’s face. But the
situation was changing. Ben was getting interested in the Broken Circle dude ranch. He didn’t want to get
fired.



BEN DUCK found the old prospector shortly after noon. It was somewhat of an accident. The four old
maids had rawhide constitutions, and more questions than a radio quizz show. So Ben built them a fire to
cook their lunch, then left them under the pretext of hunting sagebrush for firewood. He wanted to escape
long enough to have a smoke in peace.

The mountains here were arid, bare, rugged and forbidding. There was no vegetation whatever, except
now and then a scrawny sagebrush or jack pine in a crevice. There was no moisture to support
vegetation.

Four turkey buzzards were circling in the sky. Two more buzzards joined them. Farther away, several
crows spun hopefully in the clear, hot air.

"May be a Broken Circle cow over there with a broken leg," Ben decided.

He swung onto Patches and rode toward the spot.

The old man lay in a gully. Judging from the signs, he had gotten into it and did not have the strength to
get out, and had crawled along the sand. He had progressed more by dragging himself than by crawling.
He must have spent hours coming the last few yards.

His tongue hung out. The bones seemed to be coming through his skin, although that was only an illusion
caused by his starvation gauntness. His skin was cracked; in many places the cracks were the color of
old rust from dried blood.

There was a pack tied to the old man’s back, and he had a saddlebag fastened to his belt.

"Hey!" Ben got down beside him. "Hey, what happened to you, old-timer?"

The old man’s eyes remained fixed. They were like dead eyes.