"078 (B078) - The Crimson Serpent (1939-08) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Yet it didn't seem possible that anything could make Jute, if it was Jute, scream like that.
The young engineer stood frozen for several moments. Then he turned to leap toward the other guide and the second boat.
He was just in time to see that boat flash away.
Bill Craig's hesitation had been short, but it had been long enough for the rest of his crew to reach the boat. He was left alone.
Young Bill yelled. Then he cursed. He did a good job at both. The boat did not pause. It went away. As near as Bill could tell, it was going in a direction opposite to that from which the screams were coming.
Physical danger was something Bill Craig did not fear. He had a small gun in his belt for use in killing snakes. He got this gun out and began to run to help Jute.
He could still hear the screams. They were fainter now, but no less horrifying.
Before Bill Craig realized where he was going, he fell off the hammock of ground and went into the water. It was stagnant water, filled with crawly things.
It took him some time to get back to land. He found he had lost his gun. The screams stopped.
For a moment, panic seized the engineer. The only way to get out of the swamp was by boat. He had no boat, and something horrible was near at hand.
He floundered about aimlessly. Twice more he fell into water. Then he stopped. He stopped because he heard again the sound of a clanking chain.
The sound was close by, but it was almost dark and he could see nothing. He made himself as small as possible, shivering. After a while the sound of the chain faded.
BILL CRAIG didn't know a night could be so long. He was almost thankful for the swarms of mosquitoes that buzzed about him. They kept him awake and kept him busy slapping. Occasionally he could hear some animal moving about. Once he heard the piercing scream of a cougar.
Unknown peril seemed lurking on all sides. He didn't even dare light a cigarette.
Something was horribly wrong, and his only hope was that he might live to tell about it. There was no question in his mind but that Jute was dead.
As soon as the first rays of daylight came he fished out a compass and started to work his way back to civilization. The path that had been cut through the vines and grass helped some, but he couldn't follow a straight line. There were too many bayous to cross, and he knew cotton-mouth moccasins were plentiful.
It was almost noon when he found Jute's boat. The boat evidently had drifted down one of the winding creeks until it had tangled up in the low-hanging limb of a big tree.
Jute's rifle was in the bottom of the boat. Bill Craig felt a little better when he got his hands on that. Then he remembered that the rifle evidently hadn't done Jute any good, and he felt afraid again.
Despite his fear, he poled the boat back up the creek. He kept as near in the center of the bayou as he could, and had the rifle where he could grab it instantly.
He almost missed finding Jute at that. Then he wished that he had missed him.
The lanky guide appeared to be standing up with his back against a tree. The only thing was that his feet dangled several feet above the water.
After a bit, Young Bill saw why Jute didn't fall. Vines were wrapped about his body. They were rattan vines, and appeared to be encircling Jute just as they encircled trees on all sides.
One loop of the vines was about Jute's throat. It was very tight. Jute couldn't have done much screaming after that vine had encircled him. The guide's face pictured almost unbelievable pain and horror.
Bill Craig saw the rest of it then, and turned a little sick.
Jute's shirt was gone. A big red snake, its head buried in the flesh, appeared clinging to the guide's skinny chest.
The young engineer jerked up the rifle. He almost pulled the trigger before he saw it wasn't a snake on Jute's chest at all. It just looked that way.
Bill Craig had to get over being sick before he could get closer and make the examination he knew had to be made.
What he saw made him sick all over again. Frantically he turned, poled the boat away. Jute's body would have to be recovered, but he wanted someone else to inspect it before it was moved.
Hair rose on the back of Bill Craig's neck. He had the eerie feeling that deadly, venomous eyes were watching him. Unreasoning fear gripped him.
For he knew that the mark of the red snake had not been left on Jute's body by any animal.
It might be called "The Crimson Serpent" by the swamp menЧbut the Crimson Serpent was human.
Chapter II. CHAINS CLANK
COLONEL JOHN RENWICK, known to his friends as Renny, found Bill Craig just as the young engineer was about to emerge from the swamp.
Renny was another who had not scoffed at the rumors he had heard, although he had not credited them, either. When Bill Craig had failed to return to camp, Renny had gone to look for him.
Bill Craig was big, but he appeared small compared with the giant aid of Doc Savage.
It was some time before Renny could get Bill Craig calmed enough to tell a coherent story. At first all Bill Craig could do was babble:
"The Crimson Serpent! The Crimson Serpent!"
But Renny knew how to handle hysteria. His features hard, his mouth thin and grim, Renny's huge opened palms smacked the other crisply on either cheek.
The blows did not appear hard, but Bill Craig's head rocked from side to side as if hit by a sledge hammer. Reason returned to his eyes.
"IЧI'm sorry," he stammered,
"Tell me about it," Renny said. His voice was surprisingly gentle.
Bill Craig's nerve returned. After all, this was one of Doc Savage's men, the one who had faced countless dangers unafraid. Hesitantly at first, but with rapidly reviving courage, the young engineer told what he had heard and seen.
"Holy cow!" said Renny when the story was complete.
For a time the giant said nothing more. His thin lips were even tighter. Then: "We'll go see," he rumbled.
Bill Craig gulped. He thought of mentioning the feeling he'd had of unseen eyes, venomous eyes, watching him. He changed his mind. Without a word he held the boat steady while Renny got in, then turned back into the swamp.
ORDINARILY, Renny enjoyed going through the swamp. Unlike many, he got a secret thrill out of the practically primeval wilderness.
This time he didn't. For once, the swamp seemed ominous. Renny, also, felt that beady, unwinking eyes were watching them. He didn't mention it, either.
Renny believed Bill Craig's story. The young engineer wasn't the kind to be easily frightened. Only one thing didn't seem reasonable. That was Young Bill's description of the wound in Jute's chest.
That wound, Bill Craig insisted, looked as if it had been made by human teeth.
Renny's puritanical features became more severe. That was something he'd have to see for himself before he could credit it.