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

"Two hundred yards, in this case," said Saturday Loo.

"But the blue meteor has been known to affect men for miles - "
"Two hundred yards!" snapped Saturday Loo. "This time, it is not powerful."

AS the villainous Saturday Loo and his fellow miscreants worked out of the crowd and took up a
position in the shade of a rickety stand selling beer, fruit and empanadas, or meat pies, there was one
person who watched them intently.

The observer was a young woman; and in her gaze was fear, loathing, and a growing horror.

The young lady herself was in turn the focus of no little attention, for she was possibly the most exquisite
thing in femininity that Antofagasta had seen recently.

Once sure the Tibetans would not see her, she squeezed rapidly through the crowd toward the speaking
rostrum. Desperation was in her brown eyes, and she nibbled nervously at the inside of entrancing Cupid
lips.

She was taller than many of the Chileans, even the men, and she gazed anxiously over heads toward the
rostrum.

Chilean senoritas, those of pure Castilian descent, are noted for the comeliness of their figures, but more
than one envious eye followed the girl who was working her way feverishly toward the speaking stand.

The tall Venus had hair about the hue of rich mahogany, which was in marked contrast to the tresses of
the surrounding senoritas.

She reached the Vicinity of the rostrum and glanced anxiously about. She was an American herself, and
apparently searching for Yankee faces. Seeing none, she accosted a Chilean.

"I must find Doc Savage," she gasped. "It's on a vitally important matter. Where can I locate him?"

"No sabe el Ingles," replied the Chilean.

The young woman shook her head and nipped her lips in exasperation. She did not speak Spanish. She
supposed the fellow had told her that he did not understand English. She continued her search for a
Yankee - and found two of them a moment later.

They were such an incongruous pair that she stopped and stared.

ONE of the Yanks looked as if an immediate ancestor had been a three-hundred-pound gorilla. His
great, corded, red-bristled arms were nearly long enough to permit him to walk on all fours without
stooping.

He had an enormous mouth, a tuft of a nose, which apparently had been pounded by many fists, and little
eyes almost lost in pits of gristle. His ears were shapeless, and one was perforated with a hole the size of
a lead pencil - an opening which could have been made by a bullet.

The hair on his nubbin of a head, as coarse as rusty shingle nails, and of about the same hue, seemed an