"Robeson, Kenneth - Doc Savage 1937 12 - The Golden Peril" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

There was a sudden tenseness among the hidden men. Weapons were moved
cautiously.
"Be quiet. Do not move until I give the command."
The order was given softly, but there was a chill note in the voice that brought
instant obedience. The man who had spoken was not large, but there was a look of
utter ruthlessness on his copper-tinted features and in his glacier-cold eyes.
His shoulders were broad, his frame powerful. He wore the insignia of a general.
The aid at his side spoke in a whisper: "The trap has been set well, my
general."
"Si.
Soon the jaws of that trap will close." The generalТs Spanish was guttural, as
if he were speaking a language still partly unfamiliar to him. "But care must be
taken. Those we await have keen eyes."
Even as he spoke, more figures came into view at the far end of the canyon.
Their eyes searched the scene before them, then one raised an arm in signal. A
donkey train moved around a bend.
Scouts were out ahead. Other tall men moved beside the heavily loaded beasts of
burden. Still others brought up the rear.
A faint fire kindled in the generalТs eyes, and his lips made sucking sounds.
"Soon that will be ours!" he breathed fiercely.

THE men escorting the donkey train were unusual in appearance. They were tall,
with thick shoulders and powerful muscles. Almost copper-colored, they wore a
short mantle over their shoulders, a network of leather which had projecting
ends. They wore broad girdles, of a dark blue and leggings fashioned like
football shin guards.
Those in the lead carried modern rifles. The others were armed only with spears
and short clubs bearing vicious, razor-edged flakes of stone.
Slowly, they advanced. A few were chanting a weird song, utterly unaware of the
terror and death that soon was to strike.
"Another sun and we shall reach Blanco Grande," said one.
"Then we will have fulfilled another task for Doc Savage," his companion
replied. "It has been long since we last saw the bronze man. I wish he would
come again."
"He is busy, but he will visit us again some day. We shall see him if we are
patient," rejoined the first speaker.
But he was wrong in at least part of his statement. None of those with the
donkey train ever were to see Doc Savage again. At that moment, they were
passing squarely between the khaki-clad men concealed on either side of the
trail.
The general would bark only one word, but that word was to start a chain of
circumstances that was to bring many deaths; that was to reach out to New York,
where Doc Savage had his headquarters; that was to bring the bronze manТs aids
into the fray; that was to test to the utmost the skill of Doc Savage and his
five friends, experienced as they were in battling evil and injustice.
"Fire!" roared the general.
Instantly, the quiet of the canyon was shattered by the murder-roar of guns.
Khaki-clad men reared up from behind boulders with automatic rifles. A rain of
lead poured from those rifles into the ranks of the guards with the donkey
train.