The Land of Terror

yesterday!' he declared.

'Then we’re out of luck for the time being,' Doc murmured, his powerful voice showing none of the disappointment he felt.

Doc now described Gabe Yuder — repeating Bittman’s word-picture of the man. 'Is such a fellow aboard?'

'I do not believe so,' replied the commander. 'There is no one by the name of Gabe Yuder, or Kar, and no one answering the description you have just given me.'

'Thank you,' replied Doc.

He left the captain’s cabin slowly and conveyed the bad news to his companions.

'But how on earth did they know we were coming?' Oliver Wording Bittman murmured, twirling the watch-chain scalpel about a forefinger.

'Yes — how did they know?' Monk growled.

'Kar must have had some one in New York shadowing us,' Doc offered. 'When we took off by plane, Kar received the news and put two and two together. Possibly the fast yacht which took his men off was a rumrunning vessel he got in contact with through underworld channels.'

'Well, what do we do about it?' Renny inquired.

'The only thing left to do — tangle with Kar on Thunder Island.'

* * *

THE following days aboard the Sea Starwere nothing if not monotonous. Doc and his friends had rambled the world too much for an ordinary ocean voyage to prove interesting.

They did not know what Kar might be doing. Further conversation with the master of the Sea Starconvinced Doc the yacht which had taken Kar’s men aboard was very fast indeed — speedier even than the liner!

'The fiend may be ahead of us!' Bittman wailed.

'Probably is,' Doc admitted.

When some hundreds of miles from New Zealand, Doc could have taken a short cut by transferring to the air. But at the moment the Sea Starwas bucking a South Sea gale, a thing of whistling winds filled with shotty spray, and gigantic waves which all but topped the bridge.

The plane was fortunate to exist, lashed down on the forward deck. It could not possibly have been lowered over-side, so as to take off. And the Sea Starwas not equipped with catapults for launching planes, as are some modern ocean greyhounds.

So Doc remained aboard.

Auckland, the Sea Star’sport of call in New Zealand, was a welcome sight. The water was calm enough in the harbor to permit the unloading of Doc’s plane, although the gale still raged.

Johnny, the geologist, visited various local sources of information and dug up what he could on Thunder Island.

'It’s a queer place,' he reported to Doc. 'It’s the cone of a gigantic active volcano. Not a speck of vegetation grows on the outside of the cone. It’s solid rock.'

Johnny looked mysterious.

'Here’s the strange part, Doc,' he declared. 'That crater is a monster. It must be twenty miles across. And it is always filled with steam. Great clouds of vapor hang over it. I talked to an airplane pilot who had flown over it some years ago. He gave me an excellent description.'

'That’s fine.' Doc smiled.

'He says there’s another island, a coral atoll, about fifty miles from Thunder Island,' Johnny continued. 'This is inhabited by a tribe of half-savage natives. He recommended that for our headquarters.'

'Not a bad idea,' agreed Doc.

Oliver Wording Bittman had been away in search of the native New Zealanders who had taken Jerome Coffern and Kar to Thunder Island months ago. He returned shaking his head.

'A ghastly thing!' he said hollowly. 'Every man who accompanied Jerome Coffern and Kar has mysteriously disappeared in recent months.'

Doc Savage’s golden eyes gave off diamond-hard lights. He saw Kar’s hand here, again. The man was a devil incarnate! He had callously murdered every one who might connect him with Thunder Island. His only slip had been when his two hired killers slew Jerome Coffern almost in the presence of Doc Savage!

'I hope I get my hooks on that guy!' Renny said grimly. His great hands — hands that could squeeze the very sap from blocks of green timber — opened and shut slowly.

'We’ll do our best to get you that wish.' Determination was uppermost in Doc’s powerful voice. 'We’re hopping off for Thunder Island at once!'

* * *

* * *

* * *

Chapter 15. THE FLYING DEVIL

THUNDER ISLAND!

The great cone projected high enough above the southern seas that they sighted it while still more than a hundred miles distant. The air was clear; the sun flamed with a scintillant revelry. Yet above the giant crater, and obviously crawling out of its interior, lurked masses of cloud.

'The dope I got from that pilot was right!' Johnny declared, quickly removing his glasses with the magnifying lens to the left side so he could peer through high-magnification binoculars. 'Note the steam which always forms a blanket above the crater.'

'Strange lookin’ place!' Monk muttered, his little eyes taking in Thunder Island.

'Not so strange!' Johnny corrected. 'Steam-filled volcanic craters are not so uncommon in this part of the world. It is a region of active craters. There is, for instance, Ngauruhoe, a cone in New Zealand which emits steam and vapor incessantly. And for further example of unusual earth activity, take the great region of geysers, strange lakes of boiling mud and hot springs, which is also in New Zealand. Like the phenomena in the Yellowstone Park, in the United States, this region — '

'You can serve that geology lecture with our supper,' snorted Monk. 'What I meant was the shape of that cone. Notice how steep it gets toward the top? Man alive! It’s a thousand feet straight up and down in more than one spot!'

'The cone rim is inaccessible,' said Johnny, peevishly.

'You mean nobody has ever climbed up there and looked over?'

'I believe that is what inaccessible means!'

'You’re gettin’ touchy as Ham!' Monk snorted. 'Hey, fellows! There’s the little atoll that is inhabited! We make our base there, don’t we?'

The atoll in question was much smaller than Thunder Island. Of coral formation, it was like a starved green doughnut with a piece of mirror in the center. This mirror was, of course, the lagoon.

Doc banked the plane for the atoll.

As they neared the green ring, they saw the vegetation was of the type usual to tropical isles. There was noni enata, a diminutive bush bearing crimson pears, ironwood, umbrella ferns which grew in profusion, candlenut trees, and the paper mulberry with yellow blossoms and cottony, round leaves. Hibiscus and pandanus spread their green and glossy flowers, and there were many petavii, a kind of banana, the fronds of which arched high.

'It’s inhabited, all right!' announced Monk. 'There’s the native devil-devil house on top of the highest ground!'

Johnny used his superpower binoculars on the structure of pagan worship, then gasped, 'The inhabitants must be near savages! The devil-devil house is surrounded by human skulls mounted on poles!'

'Not an uncommon practice,' began Johnny. 'Formerly — '