"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 156 - Seh-Pa-Poo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The one in his boot was a nubbin gun of .22 calibre, single-shot.

тАЬAny more?тАЭ

тАЬNope.тАЭ

тАЬWhat are you, a traveling armament salesman or something?тАЭ

The Indian shrugged. тАЬNope.тАЭ

тАЬThen why all the guns?тАЭ He counted the guns. тАЬNine guns! Why nine pistols?тАЭ

тАЬMedicine.тАЭ

тАЬFor what?тАЭ

тАЬFor what ails me.тАЭ The Indian reached over and turned on the ignition, stamped the starter, tramped the
accelerator, threw the gears in mesh, and the station wagon jumped ahead.

The Indian was unhappy. When the station wagon was doing fifty, he carelessly took his hands off the
wheel to rub his wrists where they had been held while he was searched. He straightened his coat. He
pushed out his considerable jaw in indignation.

тАЬMe old, frightened man,тАЭ he complained. тАЬYou hadn't oughta pick on me.тАЭ

тАЬNo?тАЭ

тАЬYou're Doc Savage,тАЭ the Indian grumbled. тАЬGot reputation for heap big and tough. Pick on somebody
your own size.тАЭ



Chapter II
HE had brought water. There were three quart thermos bottles of it in his suitcase, and a pair of tough
walking shoes suitable for the desert. He had brought the thermos containers of water along because he
had known what the desert would be this time of year. Now he felt thirsty, but he did not touch the
water. Thirst was something that, if you gave in to it, would plague you unmercifully in the desert, and,
anyway, he didn't know what was ahead. Three quarts of water, he had estimated, would be enough to
carry him if he had to walk from the spot where he left the train to the nearest spot where drinking water
was available. But now he was in the station wagon, and it was possible he might have much farther to
walk. He didn't understand what was happening, didn't understand it at all. He preferred caution.

тАЬWaterbag in back,тАЭ Grunts said.

He said nothing. He wasn't going to touch the Indian's water, not by a long shot. The Indian had him
puzzled. The Indian was several parts phony. That is, he was an Indian who was a phony Indian.

What had happened was ridiculous. He was not, however, the least amused. Terror, when it wore a
clown's costume, was double terror. He was certain the Indian was terrified.