Doc Savage - The Man Who Shook The Earth Part 20

His manner, the excitement in his voice, caused alarm. One of the a.s.sembled men sprang up from the bench-and an astounding thing happened.

With the man's movement, his poncho cowl literally dissolved into a coa.r.s.e powder. It behaved like the charred ashes of cloth. In a dusty shower, the poncho fragments fell around his feet.

The man's face was revealed.

This caused further excitement. All around the room men leaped off their benches.

In each case, the folds of cloth swathing their faces and bodies dissolved. They stood with features disclosed.

The men stared at each other.

John Acre emitted a shrill yell. He pointed with both his arms, screaming: "Look! Look!"

Standing there, revealed because their masks had turned to powder, were Velvet and Biff.

DOC SAVAGE, mighty man of bronze, materializing in the doorway at that moment, added to the general consternation. Had some one emptied a basket of poisonous snakes in the room, there could not have been greater excitement.

John Acre stopped squawling, and dived a hand for his gun.

Velvet and Biff were not idle. Velvet had evidently used foresight and located the nearest exit beforehand, for use in case the door was blocked. This happened to be a ladder sloping to a hole in the roof. He leaped for the rungs.

Biff, with the stupidity of a man who had depended on bull strength all his life, made a fatal mistake-he sprang for John Acre. Probably he hoped to land a blow before the hook-nosed man could get his gun into action. His plan failed.

John Acre's belly-buster spouted a plume of flame fully two feet long. Its roar was ear-splitting!

Considering his haste, the shot was remarkably accurate. A rectangular cavity appeared above the two fuzzy holes which were Biff's nostrils. The slug from the belly-buster, untwirled by rifling, had struck sidewise. A major alteration took place in the shape of the top of Biff's head.

There was not the slightest doubt but that Biff died instantly. But he came plunging on. One of his fists aimed a great wild blow. John Acre, leaping to one side, evaded it.

Biff hurled on, slammed into the wall, and slipped down to the floor. He did not move again.

Slanting his stubby gun upward, John Acre fired at Velvet. The wiry crook, however, had been too quick. He jerked himself out on the rooftop, and the bullet only knocked splinters from the ladder.

John Acre wheeled for the door. A moment before, he had seen Doc Savage there. He intended to tell the bronze man to watch the outside. But Doc was gone.

In mad haste John Acre mounted the ladder. He scrambled out on the mud roof; then he listened.

To the left, footsteps pattered. John Acre fired recklessly at the sound. The powder blazes from his belly-buster lighted the surrounding roof like red lightning. The bulldog gun, terrible implement though it might be at close quarters, was no weapon for target shooting. At fifty feet, it was doubtful if the most expert marksman could hit a man-sized objective except by accident.Cursing vitriolically, John Acre leaped for the roof edge. The moonlight was tricky. He miscalculated his distance, and as a result plunged to the hard earth below. He lay there for a few seconds, stunned, gagging in the dust which his fall had raised.

By the time he regained his feet, the night had entirely hidden Velvet.

VELVET, had John Acre but known, had heard the fall from the roof. The sound was highly satisfactory to the fleeing masquerader.

"I hope he busted his neck," Velvet gritted.

Although the scene of his operations for the last few years had largely been in South America, Velvet was a product of the New York underworld.

Biff had been sp.a.w.ned by a swamp district in a Southern State, an environment almost as conducive to crime as Velvet's. Biff had also ranged South America for some time.

They were birds of a feather, Velvet and Biff. They had been working together for weeks.

"Biff was a dumb cluck!" Velvet told himself callously. "It's a wonder he didn't get his before this."

Velvet kept running. Speed was more important than caution, so he took no pains to go furtively. When he had covered nearly a quarter of a mile, however, he slowed up and progressed more warily.

His route led to the edge of the town, then to the right. This latter course took him directly into the bleak hills.

The going became very rough. Producing a flashlight, he used it frequently to avoid cactus.

The surrounding terrain was indescribably barren. Should the average individual be asked to name the spot on the earth which receives the least rain fall according to official records, he would probably designate the Sahara Desert. Told that he was wrong, he might fall back on Death Valley or the Gobi Desert.

Possibly some one well informed might bring forth the correct answer-that the northern portion of Chile is quite the dryest region of which there is any record. Over a twenty-one-year period, the annual average of rainfall at a certain point in northern Chile was only six tenths of an inch.

The way which Velvet traveled showed the effects of the scant rainfall. The rocks were very rough to the touch; although it had been dark for hours, the heat of day still lingered. Famished night insects pursued the wiry crook.

Velvet's manner showed that he had a definite destination, and was in a hurry to get there. He entered a narrow canyon. Stony heights shot up sheer on either side.

Que es eso?" rapped a voice from the darkness ahead. "What is that?"

Had Velvet been thoughtless enough to call his name, it would have been his finish. The query from the guard required a certain answer-a pa.s.sword.

"I am a black man," said Velvet. "But my brother is little and white."

Bueno!" said the guard. "What do you know, comrade?"

Velvet advanced until he recognized the fellow.

Buenas tardes, Pedro," he said. "Good evening. It is important that I talk to our chief, the First Little White Brother." "

Muy bien," said Pedro. "Very well. But I had better accompany you. Some of those other fools might shoot you by mistake."

THE two men came shortly to a stone house, a structure of considerable size. A low stone wall encircled it.

This was blocked off in the rear to form a corral, which held several saddle horses. The animals were all saddled, as if for a quick get-away.

Half a dozen men came out of the house as Velvet and his escort approached. Sounds indicated there were others inside.

"The First Little White Brother," Velvet said impatiently. "Take me to him."

"Did not Pedro tell you?" growled one of the men. "The First Little White Brother is not here."

"I did not know," Pedro said. "I am sorry."

"Will he be back?" Velvet demanded.

"No. But you can get him on the telephone if it is important."

"It's plenty important." Velvet glanced up. A telephone wire slanted from the house up the precipitous canyon walls. It led in the direction of town.

Velvet entered the house hastily, and went to the telephone. It was a somewhat old-fashioned instrument, resembling a type used in the United States twenty years ago. Turning a crank on the side summoned the central operator.

Velvet gave this crank a twirl. He placed his lips close, to the mouthpiece when he asked for his number.

Apparently he received an answer. He spoke for some seconds, still in a near-whisper, got a reply, grimaced, and hung up.

"The First White Brother is not there," he told the men around him.

"Where is Biff?" one of the men asked.

"That's why I wanted to report," Velvet replied. "Biff got his. We got into that meeting all right by croaking two of the guys that were to attend it. We didn't have no trouble with that. We just waylaid both of 'em a couple hundred yards from the meeting place."

"You were discovered in the meeting?"

"And how!" Velvet grumbled. "The d.a.m.nedest thing happened. We were sitting there with our guns in our pockets, waiting for Savage to appear. We were gonna fill him full of lead. All of a sudden-presto! Our masks turned to powder!"

The listeners exchanged glances, extremely doubtful glances as they digested the explanation.

"I know it sounds goofy," Velvet grumbled. "But that's what happened. The cloth just simply turned to powder and fell off of us. There we were. That slug-simple Biff jumped at the wrong guy. He got a bullet just over the nose for his pains. By scratching gravel, I got away."

One of the men who had heard the story laughed softly. Of the group, it was he who presented the most intelligent appearance. His forehead was high. His eyes and mouth, however, were cruel.

"The cloth turning to powder is not such a mystery," he said.

"Yeah?" Velvet eyed him. "You're pretty smart, being one of the First Little White Brother's main a.s.sistants.

Maybe you can explain how it was done.""Did a rather strong vapor appear in the room just before the cloth turned to dust?" the man asked.

Velvet nodded.

"The masks had evidently been treated with some chemical beforehand," said Velvet's informant. "I can tell you the name of the chemical, but it would be only a technical jumble. The vapor was that of a second chemical mixture. This penetrated the cloth, resulting in a reaction which dissolved the fabric. In other words, the two chemicals formed a mixture which worked upon the cloth like an acid, literally eating it up."

A powerful, vibrant voice rumbled from the doorway.

"You seem to be something of a chemist," it said.

Those in the room turned eyes upon the door, to goggle at the giant bronze man who had suddenly appeared there.

ONE second-two-and the shocked suspense snapped. As if an electric switch had been thrown, the men came to life. They reacted different, according to their opinions of Doc Savage's fighting abilities.

Velvet emitted a squawk of horror and dived for the nearest window.

The other men dragged out their favorite weapons-guns, knives, ugly little bludgeons of lead. Two of them produced weapons which were peculiar to South America. These were bolas-leather thongs with blobs of metal affixed to one end, and with the other ends tied together in a turkey-foot design. Using these, an expert thrower could tie a victim up helplessly.

A fiercely belligerent horde, the men plunged for Doc Savage.

What occurred then was probably the last thing they would have dreamed of in their wildest nightmare. Doc Savage whipped backward into the night. He did this so swiftly that one of the men, aiming at the moment, pulled the trigger, under the impression that the bronze giant was still in front of his gun.

The bullet split thin air, went through the door, crossed the canyon, and angled off a face of rock with a shrill moan.

The man who had fired was leading the charge. Immediately following his shot, his legs seemed to become bogged in invisible mud. They ceased to move. The man plunged forward on his face. An Instant after he hit the floor, he began to snore loudly.

The same weird thing happened to each of the other men in succession.

Scattered about their p.r.o.ne forms, a close observer might have noted many pieces of thin gla.s.s-fragments of small bulbs. These had contained an odorless, quick-acting gas, which had dropped the men. The gla.s.s of the containers was extremely thin-none of the men had heard it breaking as Doc tossed the bulbs inside a moment before appearing in the door.

Outside, Doc Savage sped in pursuit of Velvet. The house had long wings jutting out on either side of the main room. Velvet had leaped through a rear window. Doc was forced to circle the structure.

Rounding the end of one wing, he heard the staccato rattle of hoofs. Velvet had reached one of the saddled horses.

Wood broke with a crash and ripping. The man had ridden down the gate, not taking time to open it.

Doc, around the corner of the house, vaulted the corral fence. Horses were plunging in the inclosure, wildly excited. Velvet, it seemed, had slashed the reins with a knife, in the hope that the animals would stampede.

Capturing a stock dun bronc, Doc started to swing aboard. He never completed the mount.

From behind him in the house a feminine cry pealed out. Doc had last heard that voice in New York, but itwas one not hard to recognize again.

It was Tip Galligan.

"Don't leave me here!" she was shrilling.

Chapter XV. PRISONERS FOUR.

DOC SAVAGE, halfway into the saddle, dropped back to the ground. He quitted the corral as hastily as he had entered. The saddled horses, milling and wheeling, flashed out through the gate broken down by Velvet.

"Miss Galligan!" Doc called sharply.

"Over here," said the young woman's voice from the left wing of the house.