"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 129 - The Secret of the Su" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

“That,” Dr. Wilson said, “is a strange thing.”

Slow John grinned briefly. A grin was a rare thing for him. “I know it sounds strange, and maybe silly,” he
said. “But it was my family you saved, and they would have died had you not done so, and that would
have been bad, because they were members of the higher clan of the Su. To serve you for my life is small
payment. I am happy to do it.”

DR. WILSON sank into a chair. He was amazed, suddenly amazed. Thirty years he had known Slow
John, and he was just now realizing what an amazing person the Indian was.

Truthfully, Dr. Wilson had always suspected that Slow John was a fakir of a mild sort. He'd figured that
the Indian was an old fellow who had told a good story, and was sticking to it.

The incident, thirty years ago in the Everglades swamp of Florida, when he'd saved the lives of Slow
John and his family, had been spectacular, probably. The Everglades in those days were unexplored and
rather terrible. Today they were still somewhat unexplored, but not as terrible. Planes had flown over the
vast swamp and photographed it, and one highway, the Tamiami Trail, had been put across from Miami
to Tampa, Florida.

Thirty years ago, during a hurricane, he had saved the lives of this Seminole family.

He was convinced they were Seminoles. He didn't understand this talk about Su.

The hurricane had been the typical piece of hell that Caribbean hurricanes can become. There wasn't
much doubt but that if Dr. Wilson hadn't happened along, in an unsinkable power launch that had a motor
much too large for the size of the craft, Slow John and his relatives would have drowned.

Dr. Wilson himself had nearly drowned. He'd saved their lives, all right. And his own, too.

He had thought he'd just saved the lives of a family of Seminoles—father, mother, two daughters, and
two sons. He'd thought that, in his heart, for thirty years.

Now suddenly, he knew better.

He was silent for a while, remembering how Slow John had come out of the swamp and overtaken
him—the Seminoles he'd rescued had disappeared immediately after the blow—and said that he was
going to be his, Dr. Wilson's, servant from this time on. Dr. Wilson had laughed at that.

I was younger in those days, Dr. Wilson thought now. I passed up a lot of things that were important. I
didn't notice things, or if I noticed them, I too often didn't follow them through to their logical conclusion.
In other words, I saw many a thing and didn't realize I was seeing it.

He remembered Slow John's family.

He'd thought at the time that they were remarkably intelligent-looking Indians. They were Indians, all
right. But there were things that were different about them. Their manner, for instance, had not, been
aboriginal and their clothing—they had worn long garments, or what was left of long garments, for the
hurricane by that time had dusted them up a bit.