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 Page A
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turned the slug.
They raced to catch up with the others.
By this time, Monk was sounding as if he were waging a one-man war against the bandits, who were now pulling their horses to a stop, dismounting with alacrity.
The bandits were well-drilled, for they did a remarkable thing. They pushed their horses into a prone position, and dug in behind them, using their steeds as living sandbags.
From these novel defensive positions, the raiders lay down and started firing over the sleek, sweat-lathered sides of their horses.
Apish Monk was methodically hosing these positions while emitting a bloodcurdling yell that would normally have struck fear into any ordinary foe. But the hairy chemist’s war whoops seemed only to encourage the Mongols to return fire more rapidly.
The barrage of answering bullets was remarkable, considering that the weapons employed were not the most modern. A few even qualified as blunderbusses. Some were muzzleloaders. No doubt many of the whizzing slugs that sought human occupancy were hand-poured.
Doc Savage was the first to reach the aircraft, as Long Tom got his machine pistol back into operation. The puny electrical expert managed to put a few of his foes to sleep, but seemed to knock out more horses than men.
Doc urged Long Tom into the plane, whose sides were bulletproof. The bronze man pulled from his person several small items which he armed, then pitched them in the direction of their foes.
These devices ranged from smoke bombs to compact tear-gas generators. Doc hurled them overhand, and they begin detonating among the men behind the whinnying horses. The pyrotechnics seemed to have more effect on the horses than their riders, because the horses abruptly struggled to their feet, exhibiting signs of a growing panic. Prior to this they had been remarkably nerveless, which showed that they had been trained for this sort of raid.
Even through the growing smoke and the choking, swirling, moonlit gas, bullets continued to snap in the direction of Doc Savage and his men. But these were necessarily going wilder than before.
Monk, Ham and Renny reached the aircraft unscathed, and clambered aboard. The last to climb in was the big-fisted engineer, who slammed the cabin door shut. It drummed and vibrated in its frame as arriving bullets pounded it relentlessly.
Monk grinned broadly. “Made it! For a while there I wasn’t so sure that we would.”
It was then that an awful realization came to them.
Oddly, it was Long Tom Roberts who noticed it first.
“Where is that fool midget?” he barked.
They looked around wildly, then realized that Monzingo Baldwin had not followed them out of the ice cave.
“What do we do about this?” demanded Ham Brooks.
Doc Savage said, “He will have to wait. Too dangerous to fetch him now.”
It was a strange sensation they felt at that moment. Through the long hours of the flight to Mongolia they had not become accustomed to the company of the little man who had been the cause of so much trouble in the past. Now that he was in imminent peril, some of them felt a little queasy about the matter.
Doc Savage moved briskly to the cockpit and reclaimed the control wheel. But he had no intention of taking off just yet. It was just that the cockpit afforded him the best view of the besieging band of bandits.
Sepia smoke mixed with whitish tear gas was swirling around the broad, moon-washed steppe. Horses, whinnying madly, were breaking in all directions. Well-armed bandits were rushing to recapture them. It was not exactly a rout, but it was a remarkable break from the former iron discipline of the Mongol attackers.
Doc Savage watched this panic for some time, counting the number of foes, tabulating their weapons and considering options.
A few Mongols lay scattered about like so many fur-trimmed rag dolls, attesting to Long Tom’s marksmanship. He might have done better, except the sheer numbers of attackers had motivated him to unleash mercy bullets in great
They raced to catch up with the others.
By this time, Monk was sounding as if he were waging a one-man war against the bandits, who were now pulling their horses to a stop, dismounting with alacrity.
The bandits were well-drilled, for they did a remarkable thing. They pushed their horses into a prone position, and dug in behind them, using their steeds as living sandbags.
From these novel defensive positions, the raiders lay down and started firing over the sleek, sweat-lathered sides of their horses.
Apish Monk was methodically hosing these positions while emitting a bloodcurdling yell that would normally have struck fear into any ordinary foe. But the hairy chemist’s war whoops seemed only to encourage the Mongols to return fire more rapidly.
The barrage of answering bullets was remarkable, considering that the weapons employed were not the most modern. A few even qualified as blunderbusses. Some were muzzleloaders. No doubt many of the whizzing slugs that sought human occupancy were hand-poured.
Doc Savage was the first to reach the aircraft, as Long Tom got his machine pistol back into operation. The puny electrical expert managed to put a few of his foes to sleep, but seemed to knock out more horses than men.
Doc urged Long Tom into the plane, whose sides were bulletproof. The bronze man pulled from his person several small items which he armed, then pitched them in the direction of their foes.
These devices ranged from smoke bombs to compact tear-gas generators. Doc hurled them overhand, and they begin detonating among the men behind the whinnying horses. The pyrotechnics seemed to have more effect on the horses than their riders, because the horses abruptly struggled to their feet, exhibiting signs of a growing panic. Prior to this they had been remarkably nerveless, which showed that they had been trained for this sort of raid.
Even through the growing smoke and the choking, swirling, moonlit gas, bullets continued to snap in the direction of Doc Savage and his men. But these were necessarily going wilder than before.
Monk, Ham and Renny reached the aircraft unscathed, and clambered aboard. The last to climb in was the big-fisted engineer, who slammed the cabin door shut. It drummed and vibrated in its frame as arriving bullets pounded it relentlessly.
Monk grinned broadly. “Made it! For a while there I wasn’t so sure that we would.”
It was then that an awful realization came to them.
Oddly, it was Long Tom Roberts who noticed it first.
“Where is that fool midget?” he barked.
They looked around wildly, then realized that Monzingo Baldwin had not followed them out of the ice cave.
“What do we do about this?” demanded Ham Brooks.
Doc Savage said, “He will have to wait. Too dangerous to fetch him now.”
It was a strange sensation they felt at that moment. Through the long hours of the flight to Mongolia they had not become accustomed to the company of the little man who had been the cause of so much trouble in the past. Now that he was in imminent peril, some of them felt a little queasy about the matter.
Doc Savage moved briskly to the cockpit and reclaimed the control wheel. But he had no intention of taking off just yet. It was just that the cockpit afforded him the best view of the besieging band of bandits.
Sepia smoke mixed with whitish tear gas was swirling around the broad, moon-washed steppe. Horses, whinnying madly, were breaking in all directions. Well-armed bandits were rushing to recapture them. It was not exactly a rout, but it was a remarkable break from the former iron discipline of the Mongol attackers.
Doc Savage watched this panic for some time, counting the number of foes, tabulating their weapons and considering options.
A few Mongols lay scattered about like so many fur-trimmed rag dolls, attesting to Long Tom’s marksmanship. He might have done better, except the sheer numbers of attackers had motivated him to unleash mercy bullets in great
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