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

Unexpectedly, the station wagon whipped off the blacktopped highway, lunged into the shallow grader
ditch, vaulted out, and the tools and the handbag in the back jumped off the floor and fell back heavily.
Wildly, madly, the machine plunged across the desert. There was no road now, no track. But the
sun-baked earth was as hard, almost, as pavement, and the Indian seemed to know where he was going,
and, it had become evident, was a skillful, if reckless, driver.

тАЬSo you knew I was Doc Savage?тАЭ

тАЬWhy not?тАЭ the Indian said.

тАЬWhat are you afraid of?тАЭ

тАЬWho? Me?тАЭ

тАЬYes.тАЭ

тАЬUgh!тАЭ

тАЬWhy didn't Carl Peterson come to meet me?тАЭ

тАЬI told you. Him scared.тАЭ

тАЬWhat of?тАЭ

тАЬHuh?тАЭ
тАЬIs he afraid of the same thing that's got you scared out of your wigwam?тАЭ

The Indian arched his neck indignantly. тАЬListen, city slicker, I'm an Apache. Apaches don't live in
wigwams and never did. They live in hodags. Damn warm in winter. A hodag is a fine place to live.тАЭ

тАЬFor a mole, maybe. What is Peterson afraid of?тАЭ

The Indian said, тАЬUgh!тАЭ

тАЬYou won't talk, eh?тАЭ

тАЬListen, brother, you've insulted me,тАЭ the Indian said. тАЬA hodag is a good home, and not for a mole
either. A mole would think a hodag was a palace!тАЭ

тАЬAn underprivileged mole might,тАЭ he agreed.



THE station wagon averaged about forty miles an hour across desert of a sort which an uninitiated
person would have sworn would be safe only for a donkey. The trick was knowing the terrain, and the
Indian knew it. He made long and seemingly aimless corkscrew detours without slackening speed,
sometimes riding the station wagon high on the sharp slope of bare eroded hills, and invariably a way
continued to open ahead.

Except for the heat, it would have been a nice trip. It did not lack for excitement and scenery. Frequently