"Doc Savage Adventure 1934-04 The Monsters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

That laugh was his fifth step toward disaster.

The pinheads stared at Bruno Hen, their attention drawn by the laugh. Bruno Hen's smile was derisive, but the pinheads did not have the intelligence to realize that. They thought the grin friendly. They smiled back, jumped up and down, and beat their chests with nubbins of fists. Back in the African bush, that was the way one showed heart-to-heart friendship.

Bruno Hen thundered another laugh. It was the same kind of a laugh Carl MacBride had heard when he had come upon the breed slowly throttling a chicken to satisfy a lust for cruelty.

The utter cruelty of that loud laugh caused the barker to end his spiel abruptly and stare at Bruno Hen. The barker ran his eyes up and down the breed's person.

In Bruno Hen he saw a bulky lout constructed on the lines of a brown bologna. Bruno Hen's clothing was frayed, greasy. It never had fitted properly. He wore high deerskin moccasins, obviously made by himself. He wore a dazzling green hat and a blinding-yellow necktie, both new.

The barker was a pleasant-natured soul. He did not like Bruno Hen's laugh; it sent wintry chills along his spine. He decided to bullyrag Bruno Hen to persuade him to move on.

The barker sprang to one of the three pinheads, and made an elaborate pretense of listening to the unintelligible cackle the fellow was making.

"Crowd right up, folks!" he yelled. "An amazing thing has happened! These pinhead cannibals from darkest Africa claim they have just recognized a member of their tribe who was lost years ago!"

The barker leveled an arm at Bruno Hen. "The pinheads claim this man as their brother tribesman."

The crowd roared its laughter.

The pinheads hopped about, clucked and gobbled. They were just happy. But it looked as if they were agreeing with the barker. Actually, they couldn't understand a word he said.

Bruno Hen glowered. His fists made big knobs at his side.

A grinning pinhead leveled an arm at the breed and spouted gibberish.

The barker yelled, "The gentleman from Africa declares that any one can tell this man is his brother by looking at that green hat and yellow necktie."

At this point, to the barker's relief, Bruno Hen stamped off. He yanked his green hat over his eyes and loosened his yellow necktie, as if it were too tight

Bruno Hen's swarthy neck was purple and he was muttering under his breath. It was a tribute to his stupidity that he thought the pinheads had said what the barker declared they had. Accordingly, he was very angry with the pinheads.

Farther down the midway was the strong-man show. A fellow with remarkable muscles stood on the platform.

"We have one of the strongest men in the world!" the barker was claiming raucously. "Only ten cents, a dime, a tenth part of a dollar, to see him perform. I might even say this man is the strongest in the world. The only other man who might be his equal is Doc Savage. But, unfortunately, this Herculean gentleman and Doc Savage have never matched strength. We do not know who is actually the stronger."

Bruno Hen scowled blackly.

"You may never see Doc Savage, folks!" yelled the barker, "So step in and see one of the strongest men in the world!"

Bruno Hen tried to remember who Doc Savage was. He seemed to have heard the name before.

Soon the breed came to a show featuring a mental marvel, a fellow who claimed to be able to answer any question asked of him without consulting a reference book. The mental marvel was supposed to know all things -- or so the barker was saying.

"The only living man who may possibly be a greater mental marvel than this individual, is Doc Savage!" extolled the barker.

Bruno Hen scratched his head, trying to remember.

"Doc Savage you may never meet, my good people," the barker howled. "So pay a dime and see the mental marvel who is almost his equal!"