The Sky Devil by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action and Adventure
Publisher: Galaxy Press
Published: 2013-08-28T00:00:00+00:00

Sutter made a motion with his gun for Buckley to stand upright. The weapon was a small target pistol, also from the Crusader.

“You shouldn’t do that,” said Sutter, his tones hoarse and dull, his eyes reproachful.

From the mere look of the man, Buckley wanted to laugh himself. But, instead, he closed his mouth trap like and waited.

“We’ve got to get the treasure,” said Sutter. “You’ve got no right—”

Buckley was moving slowly around in a circle, keeping his distance from Sutter, doing nothing which would cause the man to shoot. Sutter pivoted with him, still talking, until his back was against the source of the occasional stones.

And then Buckley began to back slowly away. Sutter moved with him. A rock bounded down close beside the castaway, but he glanced disinterestedly at it. Another struck close by, coming to a rest beside Buckley’s feet.

“Where is the schooner?” Buckley asked.

“Oh, that’s gone,” Sutter replied. “We sank it. It was too—” The sentence was never finished. A bounding rock struck Sutter between the shoulder blades and catapulted him straight into Buckley’s waiting arms.

Gently, Buckley laid the man down and tied him up. That done, he stood looking at the hillside and at the stones which still rolled in abundance. His brows were furrowed.

Hadron had come to and was laughing softly to himself at some joke that he himself could not explain. He caught sight of his captor and laughed more loudly.

“You think you can get away with the treasure,” chuckled Hadron. “They won’t ever let you. They’ll hammer you down with those rocks. They want it all for themselves.”

“They?” asked Buckley.

“Sure. Go on up and find out. They’ll get you quick enough.” And then Hadron went off into another spasm of laughter.

Buckley straightened himself, adjusted his helmet and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. If those were natives or some more of the insane crowd, they would make short work of him. But there might be something else which he should know. Certainly he had little enough to take back to Derring. A hunch set his face toward the hillside and he began to move.

Twice he waved the white handkerchief, but if any one had ever hidden behind those rock barricades, they did not answer. Buckley shrugged and tucked the linen into his ducks, knowing in a bleak way that he made a fine target for an avalanche. He changed his course and ascended diagonally, inspecting his goal.

Caves were up there. A long line of them carved out by wind and sea which had removed the softer content of the rock. In front of these, in long lines, were man-made barricades silently sheltering eyes which Buckley could feel but could not see.

Buckley went on. The sun was hot on his back and the sweat was dripping out of his helmet into his eyes. At any moment he expected rocks to come bounding down at him. Saw-grass cut at his white trousers. Thorns ripped his shirt sleeves. And still no sign of life within the caves.

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