Read Online Doc Savage: The Ice Genius (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 12) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray - Free Book Online
Tags: action and adventure
Ads: Link
abundantly clear to all of them that Doc was very grave indeed.
Renny rumbled, “Well, let’s hear it.”
Doc Savage did not reply. He stepped close to the wall of ice, which had been wiped clean of all grime and dust.
The bronze giant’s eerie flake-gold eyes were peering deep into the matrix of ice.
The figure there looked human enough, although very squat and broad of build. The skull of the thing seem larger than it should, and its outlines were grotesque and defied comprehension. It looked human, but in a general way. That is, it possessed the requisite limbs in their proper places and proportions.
The thing in the ice was possibly only a foot and a half deep into the block of frozen matter.
Doc’s flashlight shifted its intense beam, attempting to illuminate it.
The others watched, crowding close. They were very curious.
The penetrating ray of Doc’s flashlight found the eyes of the creature within. They were a pale yellow color—as yellow as a cur’s eyes. But these were not canine orbs. They looked human.
These sulfurous orbs seem to be staring back, as if the thing within yet lived.
It was unnerving, and made some of them shiver in spite of themselves.
Monk spoke up. “Blazes! It’s like he’s lookin’ right at us.”
“Nonsense,” snapped Ham. “Whoever or whatever that thing is, it has been dead for very long time.”
Others looked to Doc Savage for confirmation of that bold assertion.
Doc Savage only said, “It appears as if Johnny was trying to remove the block of ice single-handed, but ceased or was interrupted.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Ham. “Why not expose the body, if he was so interested in it?”
“To preserve it for posterity,” replied Doc. “Or possibly it was because he was afraid to unearth the being entombed in the ice.”
The gravity of Doc’s words held them all in a momentary silence.
It was then that the earsplitting hooting of one of Doc Savage’s supermachine pistols split the gathering night.
“That’s Long Tom!” howled Monk. “He’s in trouble!”
Chapter VII
THE DEVIL IS A DWARF
DOC SAVAGE and his men made a concerted rush for the mouth of the uncanny ice cavern.
Plunging outside, they were met by a deepening dusk under a rising moon. For the afternoon had grown long during their exploration of the cavern.
The lunar orb happened to be full, climbing in a sky scoured clear of clouds. Sufficient illumination poured down from the open sky to show Long Tom Roberts perched on the folding steps of the big flying boat, firing his supermachine pistol at an oncoming horde.
“Bandits, blast them!” roared Monk.
Evidently, a knot of horsemen had come galloping down from the hills, alerted by the sight of Doc Savage’s landing plane.
Now they were thundering toward the aircraft, their ponies picking up speed.
Pistols and rifles boomed and cannonaded. Tufts of grass and dirt clods kicked up under the plane’s broad wings.
Long Tom was hosing the onrushing bandits with the supermachine pistol. He was doing a good job of knocking horseman off their steeds, but an unfortunate consequence of the efficiency of the rapid-firing pistols was that the ammunition drum tended to empty in an amazingly short amount of time, forcing Long Tom to have to change canisters in order to resume firing. In these intervals, he was exposed and vulnerable.
Seeing his predicament, Doc and his men charged for the plane.
They immediately attracted bullets.
A rifleman who was either an expert shot or plain lucky, selected the largest target, who was Renny Renwick. He fired once, and Renny was hurtled backward as if kicked by an invisible mule.
Ham halted, and knelt beside him, aristocratic features dark with concern.
“How badly are you hurt?” the dapper lawyer demanded anxiously.
“Not as badly as that bird when I get hold of his neck,” rumbled Renny, climbing to his feet. He commenced coughing, but was otherwise unhurt. His bulletproof undervest had
Renny rumbled, “Well, let’s hear it.”
Doc Savage did not reply. He stepped close to the wall of ice, which had been wiped clean of all grime and dust.
The bronze giant’s eerie flake-gold eyes were peering deep into the matrix of ice.
The figure there looked human enough, although very squat and broad of build. The skull of the thing seem larger than it should, and its outlines were grotesque and defied comprehension. It looked human, but in a general way. That is, it possessed the requisite limbs in their proper places and proportions.
The thing in the ice was possibly only a foot and a half deep into the block of frozen matter.
Doc’s flashlight shifted its intense beam, attempting to illuminate it.
The others watched, crowding close. They were very curious.
The penetrating ray of Doc’s flashlight found the eyes of the creature within. They were a pale yellow color—as yellow as a cur’s eyes. But these were not canine orbs. They looked human.
These sulfurous orbs seem to be staring back, as if the thing within yet lived.
It was unnerving, and made some of them shiver in spite of themselves.
Monk spoke up. “Blazes! It’s like he’s lookin’ right at us.”
“Nonsense,” snapped Ham. “Whoever or whatever that thing is, it has been dead for very long time.”
Others looked to Doc Savage for confirmation of that bold assertion.
Doc Savage only said, “It appears as if Johnny was trying to remove the block of ice single-handed, but ceased or was interrupted.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Ham. “Why not expose the body, if he was so interested in it?”
“To preserve it for posterity,” replied Doc. “Or possibly it was because he was afraid to unearth the being entombed in the ice.”
The gravity of Doc’s words held them all in a momentary silence.
It was then that the earsplitting hooting of one of Doc Savage’s supermachine pistols split the gathering night.
“That’s Long Tom!” howled Monk. “He’s in trouble!”
Chapter VII
THE DEVIL IS A DWARF
DOC SAVAGE and his men made a concerted rush for the mouth of the uncanny ice cavern.
Plunging outside, they were met by a deepening dusk under a rising moon. For the afternoon had grown long during their exploration of the cavern.
The lunar orb happened to be full, climbing in a sky scoured clear of clouds. Sufficient illumination poured down from the open sky to show Long Tom Roberts perched on the folding steps of the big flying boat, firing his supermachine pistol at an oncoming horde.
“Bandits, blast them!” roared Monk.
Evidently, a knot of horsemen had come galloping down from the hills, alerted by the sight of Doc Savage’s landing plane.
Now they were thundering toward the aircraft, their ponies picking up speed.
Pistols and rifles boomed and cannonaded. Tufts of grass and dirt clods kicked up under the plane’s broad wings.
Long Tom was hosing the onrushing bandits with the supermachine pistol. He was doing a good job of knocking horseman off their steeds, but an unfortunate consequence of the efficiency of the rapid-firing pistols was that the ammunition drum tended to empty in an amazingly short amount of time, forcing Long Tom to have to change canisters in order to resume firing. In these intervals, he was exposed and vulnerable.
Seeing his predicament, Doc and his men charged for the plane.
They immediately attracted bullets.
A rifleman who was either an expert shot or plain lucky, selected the largest target, who was Renny Renwick. He fired once, and Renny was hurtled backward as if kicked by an invisible mule.
Ham halted, and knelt beside him, aristocratic features dark with concern.
“How badly are you hurt?” the dapper lawyer demanded anxiously.
“Not as badly as that bird when I get hold of his neck,” rumbled Renny, climbing to his feet. He commenced coughing, but was otherwise unhurt. His bulletproof undervest had
Similar Books
