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

"After all," he remarked, "you hit me a beauty over the head with that stick, and I think that gives me the
right to ask some questions. First, who are you?"

"All right. My name is Fiesta."

"And now, Fiesta, what were you doing out here in the dark night?"

"I was hunting moondogs."



AFTER more deliberation, Hobo Jones asked, "Do you mind describing and defining a moondog for
me?"

"Of course not," said Fiesta. "First, moondogs only come out when there is no moon. You would think
they would come out when there was a moon, but they donтАЩt. Only when there isnтАЩt. AndтАФlet me
seeтАФoh, yes, moondogs have large bushy tails, and the tails are full of sparks likeтАФwellтАФlike a
cigarette lighter that isnтАЩt working. And moondogs always walk backward. Never forward. ThatтАЩs
becauseтАФ"

"I see," said Jones. "Hunting moondog is kind of like snipe hunting. YouтАЩre a sassy pumpkins. Do you
know what is going on around here?"

"No."

"Can you stand something pretty grisly?"

Fiesta was slow replying. "Well, I didnтАЩt scream when I saw you a moment ago, did I?" she asked. Then
she added, more contritely, "I donтАЩt personally guarantee my nerve, although I have been told that it is
very brassy."

"Come on," said Jones.

They walked through the darkness toward the strawstack, and Jones, recalling the devil-devil bird that he
had left sitting in the shack, carried along the heavy cactus cane. They stuck themselves on cactus thorns.
Yucca seeds rattled like rattlesnakes, and gave them bad scares. Small creatures, lizards probably,
scampered away from under their feet, and also sounded like rattlesnakes. Jones decided he didnтАЩt like
Arizona desert at night.

"Why, this is only a strawstack," Fiesta said.

She sounded as if she really thought that was all it was, Jones reflected.

"ThereтАЩs a dead man in here," he said. "Can you stand looking at him?"

Fiesta gasped. She was silent. "IтАФIтАЩll try," she said. Jones shoved open the door, and there was
everything just as he had left it, dead brown man sitting on the chair dressed in a breechcloth, and
hideous bird sitting on the back of another chair in a corner. The odor of the horror-bird was stronger in
the place, Jones decided.