"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 013 - Meteor Menace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

them.

"Que hay?" he barked. "What is the matter?"

Saturday Loo did not attempt to palaver. He did not even give the officer a chance to get out of their
path. With murderous intent, the Tibetan leader leveled his revolver.

The Spanish race is one quick to show emotion, but it was doubtful if a son of Castile ever changed
expression quicker than did that Chilean policeman. He was looking at death. His eyes glazed, and his
sagging jaw made his mouth a round hole.

"No, senor!" he screamed.

But Saturday Loo only leered, and tightened his finger on the trigger.

Chapter 3. THE BRONZE MAN
SATURDAY Loo never did quite comprehend what happened next. He remembered a weird trilling
sound which he first heard at that instant, however. He remembered that to the last minute of his life.

It was uncanny, that sound. It defied description, except that it might have been the song of some
fantastic jungle bird, or the sound of a wind filtering among the ice pinnacles of a polar waste. Most
incredible of all, though, was the way the note seemed to come from everywhere, and yet nowhere.

More than one Aymaran Indian onlooker discussed what next occurred over his camp fire of yareta
when he returned to his Andean retreat.

A few imaginative souls maintained that a great condor dropped from the sky and hit the earth with a
terrific explosion, and that it magically became the figure of a giant man of bronze. But the Aymarans are
a race addicted to concocting myths.

They were right about the coming of the mighty man of bronze, but he did not drop from the sky. He
came from the crowd with a swiftness which almost defied the eye.

The weird trilling which had sounded was part of Doc Savage, a small, unconscious thing which he did in
moments of stress. Sometimes the note came before a stroke of action, and often it meant that he was
puzzled. Always it signified the presence of the giant man of bronze.

Doc Savage's hands had tendons nearly as thick as an ordinary man's fingers. One of these hands
clamped upon Saturday Loo's gun wrist.

Pain caused Saturday Loo to fire the revolver. Its ear- splitting roar was what led the Aymarans to think
an explosion had materialized the bronze man from a condor.

Saturday Loo dropped the revolver and clawed out his Very signal pistol. But he did not fire it. He
seemed to remember the horror which it would summon - the mysterious "blue meteor." He let the signal
gun fall, not wishing to bring the blue meteor while he was himself present.

Then Saturday Loo saw the bronze man's eyes. He tried to recoil, for there was something about the
orbs that made his hair want to stand on end. The eyes bore a resemblance to pools of flake gold being
swirled by tiny, unending whirlwinds.