Doc Savage: The Ice Genius (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 12) by Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray Page A
Tags: action and adventure
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said a word. They just hung onto their seats for dear life.
Doc Savage was one of the most accomplished pilots in the world. Further, he had executed dangerous landings onto rough terrain and bad weather all over the globe. There was little he had not encountered in the way of an aviation emergency.
The bronze man cut the engines, having decided in a split second that jumping back into the air was imprudent. Moreover, it was likely to cause them to do a violent ground loop.
Wrestling the hurtling bird, Doc let the plane run out momentum until he felt it safe to throw the wheel brakes. The powerful hydraulic brakes took hold. The sky giant commenced screeching and complaining at every joint and rivet. A frightening series of noises accompanied the last part of the landing.
Fortunately, the natural runway Doc had chosen was much larger than was needed to land the big plane. Doc maintained control over the hurtling leviathan, until finally it shuddered to a final stop, motors blooping and belching exhaust smoke.
Only then did someone speak.
“What a man!” Monzingo Baldwin breathed in awe.
Jumping out of his seat, Long Tom Roberts sprang for the little man whose job it was to watch for rocks on the port side of the plane.
“You said there were no rocks!” snarled the puny electrical wizard.
In his oversized seat, the little man recoiled in horror at the sight of Long Tom’s mallet-hard fists.
“I didn’t see anything! Honest, I didn’t!” The midget sounded terrified.
From the cockpit, Doc Savage called back a warning, “Long Tom, the rocks are covered in dust and dirt, and difficult to see.”
Knuckles white with anger, his sour face crimson with repressed fury, Long Tom Roberts ground his teeth audibly and reluctantly returned to his seat.
Another minute passed before anyone stirred. They were getting a grip on their frayed nerves.
It had been one of the most arduous landings they had ever experienced. A crash out here, a thousand miles from any civilized settlement, would have put them in a bad spot.
Coming out of his seat, Doc Savage went to the cabin door and flung it open. He carried with him a pair of goggles of unusual construction.
Outside, Doc Savage gave rapid instructions.
“Long Tom, you remain here and guard the plane from bandits. The others follow me.”
“What about me?” asked Monzingo Baldwin.
Doc Savage told him, “Best that you remain here with Long Tom.”
The little man gave a sideways glance in the direction of the pallid electrical expert. “But I—I’m afraid of him,” he quavered.
“Very well. You may accompany us. But stick close.”
Monzingo Baldwin gave the big bronze man an angelic smile. But the look he bestowed upon Long Tom Roberts was dark.
They set off on foot, Monk, Ham and Renny brandishing supermachine pistols. Doc Savage did not carry one of the intricate weapons, preferring from longtime experience to rely on his wits rather than become dependent on firearms.
They were a fair distance from the cave; it took them more than a half hour to reach the spot.
There they found Johnny’s camp, abandoned.
Doc Savage picked through the remnants of the camp, and said simply, “Johnny’s camp lantern is missing.”
Renny grunted, “Bandits probably made off with it.”
Doc said nothing, but led them toward the ice cave.
They entered by scrambling over tumbled rock and dirt. It was a testament to the power of the explosive bullets Johnny’s supermachine pistol had disgorged that so much natural debris had been ripped loose from the side of the ridge that it formed a small hill by itself.
By this time it was becoming dusk. They found it necessary to produce their special flashlights, which operated on a spring-generator system. Simply by winding a small crank on the barrel, current was generated that would last several minutes.
They entered, Doc Savage leading the way.
THE place appeared to be a natural cavern. Even though it was cool outside, it
Doc Savage was one of the most accomplished pilots in the world. Further, he had executed dangerous landings onto rough terrain and bad weather all over the globe. There was little he had not encountered in the way of an aviation emergency.
The bronze man cut the engines, having decided in a split second that jumping back into the air was imprudent. Moreover, it was likely to cause them to do a violent ground loop.
Wrestling the hurtling bird, Doc let the plane run out momentum until he felt it safe to throw the wheel brakes. The powerful hydraulic brakes took hold. The sky giant commenced screeching and complaining at every joint and rivet. A frightening series of noises accompanied the last part of the landing.
Fortunately, the natural runway Doc had chosen was much larger than was needed to land the big plane. Doc maintained control over the hurtling leviathan, until finally it shuddered to a final stop, motors blooping and belching exhaust smoke.
Only then did someone speak.
“What a man!” Monzingo Baldwin breathed in awe.
Jumping out of his seat, Long Tom Roberts sprang for the little man whose job it was to watch for rocks on the port side of the plane.
“You said there were no rocks!” snarled the puny electrical wizard.
In his oversized seat, the little man recoiled in horror at the sight of Long Tom’s mallet-hard fists.
“I didn’t see anything! Honest, I didn’t!” The midget sounded terrified.
From the cockpit, Doc Savage called back a warning, “Long Tom, the rocks are covered in dust and dirt, and difficult to see.”
Knuckles white with anger, his sour face crimson with repressed fury, Long Tom Roberts ground his teeth audibly and reluctantly returned to his seat.
Another minute passed before anyone stirred. They were getting a grip on their frayed nerves.
It had been one of the most arduous landings they had ever experienced. A crash out here, a thousand miles from any civilized settlement, would have put them in a bad spot.
Coming out of his seat, Doc Savage went to the cabin door and flung it open. He carried with him a pair of goggles of unusual construction.
Outside, Doc Savage gave rapid instructions.
“Long Tom, you remain here and guard the plane from bandits. The others follow me.”
“What about me?” asked Monzingo Baldwin.
Doc Savage told him, “Best that you remain here with Long Tom.”
The little man gave a sideways glance in the direction of the pallid electrical expert. “But I—I’m afraid of him,” he quavered.
“Very well. You may accompany us. But stick close.”
Monzingo Baldwin gave the big bronze man an angelic smile. But the look he bestowed upon Long Tom Roberts was dark.
They set off on foot, Monk, Ham and Renny brandishing supermachine pistols. Doc Savage did not carry one of the intricate weapons, preferring from longtime experience to rely on his wits rather than become dependent on firearms.
They were a fair distance from the cave; it took them more than a half hour to reach the spot.
There they found Johnny’s camp, abandoned.
Doc Savage picked through the remnants of the camp, and said simply, “Johnny’s camp lantern is missing.”
Renny grunted, “Bandits probably made off with it.”
Doc said nothing, but led them toward the ice cave.
They entered by scrambling over tumbled rock and dirt. It was a testament to the power of the explosive bullets Johnny’s supermachine pistol had disgorged that so much natural debris had been ripped loose from the side of the ridge that it formed a small hill by itself.
By this time it was becoming dusk. They found it necessary to produce their special flashlights, which operated on a spring-generator system. Simply by winding a small crank on the barrel, current was generated that would last several minutes.
They entered, Doc Savage leading the way.
THE place appeared to be a natural cavern. Even though it was cool outside, it
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