"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 076 - The Flaming Falcons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

THE FLAMING FALCONS
A Doc Savage Adventure By Kenneth Robeson
This page copyright ┬й 2001 Blackmask Online.
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Scanned and Proofed
by Tom Stephens
? Chapter I. THE MYSTERIOUS FARM
? Chapter II. A GIRL HUNTING MOONDOGS
? Chapter III. UGLY BIRD BLAZING
? Chapter IV. UGLY BIRD FOLLOWING
? Chapter V. DEATH FLIES EAST
? Chapter VI. THE UNUSUAL MAN
? Chapter VII. HOBO JONES MAKES A CATCH
? Chapter VIII. FIELD EMPTY
? Chapter IX. THE ANGEL FRUITS
? Chapter X. THE SLY MAN
? Chapter XI. PACIFIC TROUBLE
? Chapter XII. A FALCON HUNTING
? Chapter XIII. TRICKS AND TRAPS
? Chapter XIV. THE JUNGLE AND BAD LUCK
? Chapter XV. BIRD BATTLE
? Chapter XVI. SINISTER RUIN
? Chapter XVII. DEVIL BIRDS
? Chapter XVIII. WEIRD FIGHT
? Chapter XIX. RAIDERS
? Chapter XX. THE BIRDS THAT KILLED

Chapter I. THE MYSTERIOUS FARM
HOBO JONES was a rather pleasant young man who found it necessary to sleep in haystacks, and this
was what really started the whole thing. If Hobo Jones had not wanted to sleep in a haystack in a
God-forsaken part of Arizona, quite a string of incredible events might not have happened, and a number
of persons would have been spared the unpleasant experience of having their hair stand on end, Hobo
Jones among them.

Hobo Jones supposed himself to be a bum. His pockets were empty. He had no job. He hadтАФsince
Mom and Pop died of the flu on the rented farm last winterтАФno home. That made him a bum, didnтАЩt it?
He was twenty-four years old.

True, he could go on relief. He could get on the WPA, or the PWA, whichever it wasтАФhe had them
mixedтАФand make something out of himself. At least, make twelve dollars or so a week, which was
twelve dollars or so more than he was making. But he wouldnтАЩt. Not much, he wouldnтАЩt.

Hobo Jones was a rugged individualist, and he was going to stick to it. He was going to keep moving,
and sometime, somewhere, he was going to find himself a job. He understood clearly that he might
belong in the class labeled block-heads, because there was no stigma attached to the WPA or the PWA,
whichever it was. He knew some pretty swell guys who were on those jobs. They were all right.

Hobo Jones was a large sunburned young man who could lift the front ends of most automobiles. He had
a big, perpetual grin. He had a thatch of corn-husk-colored hair that a mother mouse looking for a nest