The Awful Egg by Kenneth Robeson;Lester Dent

Author:Kenneth Robeson;Lester Dent
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Blackmask Online
Published: 2001-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX. TERROR GROWING UP

DOC SAVAGE materialized, a tower of darker shadow in the night, as Johnny ran forward.

Johnny demanded, "Sam Harmony! Did you find him?"

"Not yet," Doc said. "Come over here and look at the horse."

"Horse?" Johnny was puzzled.

"Was one of the animals Sam Harmony took with him a blaze-faced sorrel gelding?" Doc asked.

"Yes. "

The bronze man said nothing more, but led the way. They scrambled forward—on their hands and knees a good part of the time because the terrain was so fantastically rough. Finally Doc stopped, and his flashlight spouted a fan of white luminance.

Johnny stared. It was several moments before—his voice was strange—he said, "I’ll be superamalgamated!"

The carcass of the horse was there, but it had been cut up in fragments. Cut up, apparently, for no other purpose than to make the animal small enough that it could be buried under the sand of a nearby gully bed.

"But why did he bury the animal?" Johnny demanded. "And what killed it?"

Instead of responding immediately, Doc Savage indicated various parts of the animal’s body. "Notice anything unusual?" he asked finally.

Johnny nodded. "Certain parts of the animal have been chopped into very small pieces, for some reason or other."

"Yes. Does that suggest anything?"

"Heck, no," Johnny said. "There was plenty of food in camp, and Sam Harmony apparently took all of it." The long geologist and archaeologist stared at Doc Savage. "Say, what d’you mean, anyway?"

Doc Savage, instead of answering, seemed not to hear the question. Which did not exactly surprise Johnny, although it did make him realize suddenly that there was something very important, some significance which he was missing, about the condition of the horse carcass.

Further than that, Doc Savage made, after a few moments, the low trilling sound which was his peculiarity in moments of preoccupation. The sound lasted only a short time, then it was wiped out, eliminated by a terrific crash of thunder which raced like a gobbling monster after a lance of lightning that spaded across the sky. It was followed by another blinding flash, and more thunder.

Johnny, glancing at the sky, saw that it had darkened rapidly. In addition, the air, which he had hardly realized had been almost completely still, was now moving in hotly from the west. He listened. In the distance, he could hear the moan of a gale of wind.

Doc said, "Storm coming. No time to get the gyro staked down. We had better take off and get enough altitude to be safe."

Johnny nodded, and they raced back to the gyro plane, climbed in, started the motor, and took off. Doc Savage, handling the controls, climbed the ship as rapidly as possible. The wind, a cyclonic volley of air, forerunner of the storm, was upon them now, driving the ship along, twisting and tossing it, sometimes wrenching it downward hundreds of feet with terrific down-currents.

Johnny spread out a map, marked their position on it, then spent his time grimly scrutinizing the Bad Lands, trying to ascertain their drift so as to keep track of their whereabouts.

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