"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 173 - Once Over Lightly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

He put a large copper thumb against his own chest. “Name is Coming Going,” he said.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Going,” I said. “Now why this interest in my stomach?”

“Got lightplane,” said Mr. Coming Going. “Supposed to fly you like a bird to place named Sammy's
Springs.”

“Oh,” I said. “You mean that you are a pilot who has been employed to furnish me transportation the rest
of the way to my destination?”

He nodded. “That would be long-winded way of saying so,” he admitted.

“Who hired you? Glacia?”

Coming Going lifted his eyes as if he were looking at an eagle, and whistled the wolf-call.

“That would be Glacia,” I said. “All right, lets get my suitcases and be on our way.”

“Ugh,” he said, and we got my suitcase. He must have expected more in the way of baggage, because he
seemed favorably impressed.

“Squaw with one suitcase!” he remarked wonderingly. “Wonders haven't ceased.” Then he examined me
again, with more interest than before, and said another, “Ugh!”

That “Ugh!” was the end of his conversation for the trip. I found out why he was interested in whether or
not I had a strong stomach. The plane he had was a little two-place grasshopper affair, sixty-five
horsepower, the pilot seated ahead of the passenger. A kite with an engine. We flew for three hours over
desert and mountains and the thermals and downdrafts tossed us around like a leaf. My stomach stood it,
although there were times when I wondered.

The only comment Mr. Going had on the durability of my midriff was another, “Ugh!” after we landed. It
was slightly approving, however.

Glacia came running and screaming, “Mote! Darling! You did get here! How divine!”

Glacia was blonde, small, lively, and wonderful for gentlemen to look upon, with hair falling to her
shoulder, widely innocent blue eyes, a tricky nose, and other features to nice specifications. She did not
look as if she had a penny's worth of brains, although she actually had some—in an acquiring fashion.

I told her she was looking wonderful—she was—and then asked what about this job, and didn't get an
answer. I got a lot of conversation, the gushing sort, but no specific data on the job.

Glacia had a car waiting. A roadster. Seen after dark, the color of the car wouldn't put your eyes out, but
now the desert sun was shining on it, and it nearly blinded me.

“You must have taken some fellow for plenty, honey,” I said.

Glacia had no answer to that, but plenty of other words, and we got in the roadster and drove through
mesquite, cholla cactus, yucca cactus, barrel cactus—I didn't know one cactus from another, but Glacia
gave a running comment on cacti as we drove—and after a few miles it became evident that we were