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

third of the stars were going to show, but the other two thirds of the sky was full of clouds that were as
black as polecats.

Totally unexpectedly, he got a whack on the head with a piece of devilтАЩs-walking-stick.



ONE does not walk across Arizona in a day, and so Hobo Jones had spent enough time in the State to
become familiar with its vegetation, which to his observation was predominantly cactus, so he knew that
devilтАЩs-walking-stick was a species of cactus, which grew up in a cluster from a common root-cluster,
like young willows. These long shoots of cactus had thorns every half inch or so, and ranchers and
Mexicans cut them off, stuck them in the ground in a row, and they grew and became cactus fences.
Hobo Jones fell down. A piece of devilтАЩs-walking-stick has some of the qualities of a length of water
pipe. The thorns had been cut off this one.

Clutching dazedly, Jones got hold of the shillalah that had laid him low. He twisted. He was surprised at
how easily he took it away from the wielder. He instantly reversed it, and took a whack at the adjacent
darkness, which proved futile. He tried again.

"Ouch!" said a voice.

Hobo Jones started to land another wallop, but didnтАЩt.

"YouтАЩre a woman," Hobo Jones said.

"If you donтАЩt mind, IтАЩd as soon you didnтАЩt hit me again," the feminine voice said.

"I wonтАЩt," said Hobo Jones, "IтАЩm chivalrous." He reached out, got hold of a rather nice ankle, and gave it
a jerk. The ankle owner sat down. "You just sit there," requested Jones. "IтАЩve got a match somewhere. I
want to look at you."

He found the match and struck it and inspected his assailant.

"Gosh!" he said.

The match burned his fingers and went out and left him with a disturbing vision of glorious brown eyes, a
perfect little snub nose, lips too delicious for words, and a number of other features that were equally
entrancing. She wore riding boots, laced breeches, and a sky-blue sweater which fitted the curves
interestingly.

He felt of his jaw, which was furred with a weekтАЩs whiskers, somewhat cemented together by Arizona
alkali dust. "I guess I look like an ape that they had sicked the dogs on."

"That about describes it."

"IтАЩm a pretty good fellow, though," said Jones, "when you get to know me better."

"Heaven forbid. Now, if youтАЩll just excuse meтАФ"

She started to get up. Jones jerked her ankle again. She sat down with a bump.