Chapter I. THE PLOTTERS STRIKE

A COMET hurtled through the cloudy summer sky. It was a man-made comet of toughened steel and alloy—the New Orleans-New York passenger plane. A hoarse, unending snarl of power poured from the exhaust stacks of the three speed-cowled motors.

About a dozen people lounged in the cabin. Some toyed with magazines. Others played bridge. They could not have been more at ease under a reading lamp at home.

Two of the passengers were not so calm, however. Their faces were tense. Their eyes held fear.

It was plain they were not scared merely because they were riding in a plane. Their gaze fanned the surrounding clouds time after time. It was as if they momentarily expected some hideous fate to pounce from the dingy heavens.

"Take it easy, Edna," murmured one of the two. "I think we are safe here."

The speaker was a man. He bulked big in the wicker plane seat. His rugged hands were drawn into knobbed fists. His blond, coarse hair was peppered with gray at the temples. It had been touseled by nervous stroking of the man's blunt fingers. He seemed very worried.

The man looked like a picture an imaginative artist might paint of that two-fisted Norseman, Eric the Red.

HIS name actually was Eric. He was "Big Eric" Danielsen, president of Danielsen & Haas, the largest lumber company in the southern United States. Every man in the lumber business had heard of Big Eric, who had worked up from lowly shed stacker in a sawmill to power and millions.

"Big Eric Danielsen—now there's a white guy!" they'd generally say. "Hasn't got an enemy in the world!"

They would have changed their minds, could they have seen Big Eric's drawn face and tense muscles as he sat in the speeding plane. He was like a man apprehensive of being stricken by a fiendish enemy at any instant.

"Try to get some sleep, dad," suggested the young woman Big Eric had addressed as Edna. "You sat up all night with an automatic pistol, and don't try to say you didn't! I awakened during the night and saw you!"

The resemblance between Edna and her father was strong. She had his firm features, blond hair, and blue eyes. She was nearly as tall as Big Eric. And she was a ravishing beauty.

A famous motion-picture concern had once offered Edna Danielsen a young fortune if she would enter the talkies. The company had been flabbergasted when the entrancing young woman pointed out that her salary as an executive vice president of her father's lumber corporation exceeded the film offer. It was an event when such beauty and brains came together.

The fact that the men passengers on the plane—those who didn't have their wives along—had selected seats where they could steal a covert look at Edna now and then, showed what a pippin she was.

One man passenger alone had not done that. Strangely enough, this fellow was the cake-eater type who usually ogle pretty girls in an ill-mannered fashion. His hair was slicked down until the top of his head resembled the greased back of a black turtle. He had an evil face.

A moment before, this unsavory fellow had visited the washroom in the rear of the plane. In passing Big Eric and Edna, the man had carefully kept his face turned away.

"There's something queer about the way that man acts!" muttered Big Eric.

"I was just thinking the same thing, dad," replied the gorgeous Edna.

The plane cabin was partially sound-proofed. Up forward in the pilot's compartment, they could hear the assistant pilot talking into the radio-telephone instrument, which was in communication with the nearest plane dispatcher of the air line. The man was giving the condition of the air they were passing through, and getting information on visibility ahead, as reported by other planes.

"I'm gonna keep an eye on that slick-haired gigolo!" growled Big Eric, still watching the evil-faced man, who sat forward. The massive lumber king removed a large army automatic from a hip pocket. He put it in a coat pocket, where it could be gotten at more swiftly.

"Don't do anything reckless, dad!" warned Edna.

Big Eric tried to chuckle. He was under such a strain that the sound he produced was hardly more than a hollow rattle.

"I'm not so jumpy that I'll start shooting everybody that looks suspicious, just on the chance that I'll get the Gray Spider, or one of his men."

At mention of the Gray Spider, dread flashed to Edna Danielsen's pretty face. It was obvious the name had a terrible significance.

"Do you—think our trip to New York will really be of any help?" she asked hesitatingly.

Big Eric clenched his jaw and said firmly: "I’m sure of it!"

"I have never met the man we are going to see," murmured Edna.

"Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks!" Big Eric's rugged face lost some of its worry. He spoke reminiscently. "I met him when I was working my way through Harvard. We were pals. I was a plodder. Ham was a brilliant man, one of the quickest thinkers I ever knew. But we got along swell."

"Ham—is that his nickname?"

"Sure. Ham got it in the Big War. He was always a lover of adventure. Even back in college days, he carried an innocent-looking black cane that was in reality a sword cane. It got him out of many a tight spot. He was always tumbling into trouble. But he still managed to become the greatest lawyer Harvard ever turned out.

"In the World War, he advanced to a brigadier generalship. His quick thinking saved the lives of thousands of our soldiers."

Edna Danielsen seemed doubtful. "But can even a great lawyer and quick thinker help us? The Gray Spider must have hundreds, thousands, of men in his evil organization. A lawyer can't whip an army! Not even a superman could!"

Big Eric's firm lips arched in a tight smile. "That is exactly why I’m going to see Ham Brooks. Ham knows a person who is just what we need—a superman!"

"I don't understand!" Edna was puzzled.

"Doc Savage!" Something like awe was in Big Eric's voice as he spoke that name.

He mentioned Doc Savage in the same manner an Italian peasant would speak of Mussolini, or a deeply religious Mohammedan would refer to Allah, or a Christian minister to his Deity. It was obvious from Big Eric's tone that he considered Doc Savage nothing less than a supreme being.

"Ham knows Doc Savage!" he said proudly. "We may be able to get Doc Savage to help us against the Gray Spider!"

Big Eric spoke as if he believed that would solve everything.

PRETTY Edna Danielsen puckered her charming forehead in an amazed fashion. "You speak of this Doc Savage as if he was just about the most remarkable person in the world," she murmured; "yet, I’ve never even beard of him."

"You never heard of Clark Savage, Jr.?"

"Oh!" gasped Edna. "Is thatyour Doc Savage? Why, he's the wizard who perfected that new species of fast-growing tree. Why, with that rapid growth, the forests of this world will never be exhausted! But what good will he do us? We don't need forests!"

"No," grinned Big Eric. "But this Doc Savage is just as great in other things. Medicine, geology, engineering—all these fields are his familiar territory—"

"And still," interrupted Edna, her mind centered upon their immediate troubles, "that doesn't help us out in the least! Neither your Ham nor your Doc Savage can cope with the Gray Spider!"

His daughter's exasperation now mildly amused Big Eric. He went on, then, explaining his purpose in seeking out Doc Savage in their trouble.

"Perhaps neither Ham nor Doc could help us against the Gray Spider, but Doc and Ham and the rest of their pals can help us, I'm sure!"

"You see, it's not Doc alone, though Doc is the mainspring and regulator of the group. There are five of them, besides Doc. They're all men who are experts in their respective lines, and all of them owe so much to Doc—even their lives—that they will do anything for him. Not only that, but his knowledge is so great that he is the one person to whom all must bow.

"And I know they'll help us, because that's their work; their lives are devoted to the task of smashing those who plot evil, of helping those who need help. They want excitement; they yearn for adventure; they live on thrills! They're real men—and it will take real men to get the Gray Spider!"

Father and daughter now fell silent. Discussing the power and mastery of the mighty Doc Savage had renewed the courage of both. They stared steadily beyond the nose of the speeding plane. In that direction lay the city of New York.

There in the metropolis, they hoped to find their salvation—Doc Savage.

THE assistant pilot was speaking again into the radio-telephone transmitter. "All going O.K.," he intoned calmly. "Looks like a perfect trip."

He was wrong.

There came a sudden, terrific explosion. It was within the washroom at the rear of the plane. The washroom door popped off its hinges. It flew the length of the cabin. A great tongue of scorching flame seemed to pursue it.

Sheets of the thin metal skin of the plane were ripped from the rear of the fuselage by the blast. Windows burst outward. Acrid smoke boiled in the cabin.

Miraculously, no one aboard the plane was killed, but the ship began to flounder crazily. The tail structure had been nearly torn off. Controls were severed. The craft was helpless as a bird with a broken back.

The pilot and his assistant seemed stunned with surprise. There had been no fuel tank in the rear of the plane. No part of the regular equipment could possibly have caused the explosion.

"Dad!" exclaimed Edna Danielsen. "That slick-haired man went into the washroom a few minutes ago! Remember?"

"Sure, I remember!" rumbled Big Eric. "The dirty rat! He lit the time fuse of a bomb and left it in there, if my guess is right!"

The plane careened more crazily. The mangled air liner was going to crash! The altimeter in the pilot's compartment read ten thousand feet. It was indeed fortunate the plane had been flying so high. There would be precious minutes in which to escape.

This air line was one which equipped their planes with a parachute for each passenger! The packs and the quick-attaching harness were in baskets above the seats. One 'chute to each passenger, but no spares!

The pilot and his assistant still seemed paralyzed with surprise.

Big Eric showed the stuff that had taken him from a lowly sawmill worker to the heights. He assumed charge.

"Put on your parachutes!" he boomed commandingly. "You will find them in the baskets over your seats! Then jump! One at a time! Quickly!"

A fat lady promptly screamed.

"Be calm!" urged Big Eric. "There's nothing to be scared of!"

But pandemonium seized the dazed passengers. Parachute jumping might hold no terrors for Big Eric and his blond, beautiful daughter, who stood so staunchly at his back. But to the others it smacked of the next thing to suicide. Another woman screeched. Men bellowed senseless words at each other in their fear.

Big Eric caught sight of the slick-haired man. The evil-faced fellow had been crouching from view behind a seat. But now the plane door opened.

The man leaped through into space. He had donned a parachute before the explosion!

This proved to Big Eric that the man had set the bomb. The fellow was one of the Gray Spider's minions!

BIG ERIC stood in the center of the plane cabin, and used his vast voice and powerful arms to quell the excitement. He knew how to handle panic-stricken crowds. He had learned that trick in many a sawmill disaster.

"Cut out the fool screeching and jump!" he roared. "Pull the ripcord ring of your parachute when you're clear of the plane!"

Big Eric's brain was racing. Why had the Gray Spider's man set the bomb—if the fellow was really one of the sinister gang? How could it be an attempt on the life of Big Eric and his daughter? The other passengers seemed in as much danger.

The torn plane was falling faster. Air was roaring through the rent portion of the fuselage. The earth was swelling upward like the green and bloated paunch of a vast monster.

In faltering succession, the passengers pitched through the plane door. The faces of some held white terror as they jumped. A few were grimly composed. Others sobbed belated prayers.

The pilot and his assistant had awakened to their sense of responsibility. They were left alone with Big Eric and his daughter.

"Jump!" the pilot shouted. "We shall go last!"

Big Eric understood. No doubt the pilot and his assistant felt bad because they had not been first to rise to the emergency and take charge of the passengers. They would feel better were they the last to quit the fast-falling plane.

Swiftly, Big Eric swung for the door. Other passengers were safe.

With a lunge, his daughter got in his path. Her horrified look brought the big lumberman up short.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"If this is an attempt on our life—our parachutes must have been tampered with!" gasped the girl.

A sharp rumble came out of Big Eric's chest. Wrenching his 'chute pack around, he tore open the brown canvas covering. He stared at the silk folds of the 'chute itself.

"Look!" he bellowed.

A powerful acid had been poured into the parachute pack. The stuff had destroyed the strength of the silk.

A quick examination was made of Edna's 'chute. They found the same condition.

Big Eric swallowed rapidly. The nimble thinking of his attractive daughter had saved both their lives. To have jumped with those mutilated 'chutes would have been certain death.

The pilot and his assistant came forward with an offer that redeemed their earlier failing.

"Our packs are O.K.! Two of us will jump with each 'chute!"

THE huge, mangled air liner had paused at about four thousand feet as though to chase its own broken tail about. But now it careened downward in a steeper plunge than ever.

The pilot hastily wedged pretty Edna Danielsen into his own 'chute harness. The two of them leaped bravely through the plane door.

There was no time for Big Eric to note whether the two had made the jump safely. Seizing the assistant pilot, Big Eric sprang clear of the plane. He was trusting his work-hardened muscles, now wrapped around the other man's body, to withstand the shock of the opening 'chute.

When they had tumbled well clear of the plane, the assistant pilot gave the ripcord a yank. With a swish like a large bird spreading its wings, the silken folds poured out. A shock followed that seemed to draw Big Eric's arms an inch apart at the joints. Then they floated in the air.

Big Eric glanced about. He emitted a bellow of rage.

The slick-haired man had landed and cast free of his 'chute harness. The fellow had dashed to a near-by highway. He was stopping a motorist, using a pistol for the purpose.

Big Eric dug his automatic out of his coat pocket, twisting one arm around for a firmer hold. It vomited a deafening pow, pow, pow!But the distance was too great. He saw the bullets spade up dust far wide of the target. He stopped shooting, not wanting to hit the innocent motorist.

There was quite a shock as the overloaded parachute lowered Big Eric and the assistant pilot to a cornfield. Big Eric dashed madly across corn rows to learn whether his daughter had landed safely.

He found Edna giving the pilot a ravishing smile of thanks—a smile the airman undoubtedly would remember the rest of his life.

"C'mon!" shouted Big Eric. "That slick-haired skunk is getting away from us!"

He charged to the highway. But he was too late. The shiny-haired, evil-faced man who had set off the explosion was already out of sight in his commandeered car.

Big Eric glanced at Edna and said grimly: "I’d bet a million that he was a tool of the Gray Spider!"

They hurried to a farmhouse telephone, and put out an alarm for the would-be murderer. It was of no avail, however. The man had vanished.

From the nearest town, Big Eric and Edna caught a train for New York City.

"I'm not going to breathe easy until we put ourselves in the hands of Doc Savage," Big Eric said uneasily, as he listened to the click of the speeding train wheels.

Chapter II. CULT OF THE MOCCASIN

ALIGHTING in the vast Grand Central Station in midtown New York City, Big Eric and Edna hurried to a telephone.

"I'm going to call Ham," Big Eric explained. He looked up "Ham's" number, then lifted the receiver.

He did not pay particular attention to a man who hobbled near by on a pair of crutches. The fellow had one arm in a sling. His face was swathed in bandages. His hair projected a tousled mass from the gauze swathing. It was curly and yellow.

Big Eric replaced the receiver.

"Ham was not at his home," he told Edna, "but he left an address where I can find him."

The two travelers from Louisiana quitted the station and engaged a taxi.

They failed to note that the bandage-swathed man had hobbled out after them on his crutches. The fellow showed remarkable agility.

Over to Fifth Avenue ran Big Eric's cab. It wheeled south. The hour was near dusk. Myriads of lighted windows in the skyscrapers made them like stacks of flashing jewels.

The bandaged man had taken another cab. In the obscurity of the machine, he was keeping a close watch on Big Eric's vehicle. At the same time he fingered his bandages as though their presence was irksome.

Big Eric Danielsen and his daughter alighted before a great building that ran upward like a white slab for nearly a hundred stories. It was one of the largest and most sumptuous in New York.

They rode in an elevator to the eighty-sixth floor. Big Eric touched the bell button beside a door which was severely plain, and devoid of all lettering.

The door opened, framing a man.

"Ham!" boomed Big Eric. "By golly, I’m glad to see you!"

Ham was a slender, quick-moving man. His garments were of the very latest cut and the most expensive fabrics. He was sartorial perfection.

In one well-groomed hand, Ham carried a harmless-looking black cane—the sword cane which Big Eric had mentioned. Ham was seldom seen without this necessary item of his dress.

Big Eric and Ham began pumping hands and giving each other terrific thumps on the back.

"You fuzzy-eared pirate!" Ham chuckled.

"You skinny ambulance chaser!" rumbled Big Eric.

The lumber king turned proudly to Edna. "This, Ham, is my reward for getting married instead of bouncing around over the world, tumbling into messes and out, as you have done. My daughter!"

"I find it hard to believe"—Ham smiled gallantly—"that such a homely father could have a daughter so entrancingly beautiful."

After a few more ribald pleasantries passed between the old friends, Big Eric glanced about the office curiously. The place was furnished with great luxury. A large safe stood at one side. A massive and exquisitely inlaid table was near the large windows. A door on the other side of the room was closed.

"This your office, Ham?" the lumberman inquired.

Ham shook his head. "No. This is the New York headquarters of Doc Savage."

Big Eric glanced about anxiously. "I hope we can meet Doc Savage soon. We certainly need his aid."

At this, Ham's well-barbered face showed regret. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"Eh?" Big Eric's ruddy features paled. "What d'you mean?"

"I cannot find Doc Savage," replied Ham soberly.

A SHOCKED silence filled the room for a moment.

"Golly!" gasped Big Eric. "You don't mean the Gray Spider heard I was coming to Doc Savage, and killed Savage to keep him from helping me?"

Ham waved the suggestion away with his sword cane.

"Not at all! It is something entirely different. You recall that I told you a great deal of Doc Savage. Especially did I dwell upon the fabulous fund of knowledge he possesses. I mentioned great discoveries he has made in the fields of chemistry, electricity, surgery, and so on. In your own field, you know of the marvelous quick-growing timber tree he perfected."

"I certainly do!" affirmed the lumber king. "In my opinion that is the outstanding piece of plant wizardry of all time!"

"What I am getting around to is this," continued Ham. "These marvelous discoveries are made by Doc Savage during periods when he drops from sight. He simply vanishes. Nobody knows where he goes. Nobody can get in touch with him. It is as though he had dropped from the earth."

"Then our trip to New York is for nothing!" Edna Danielsen said sharply. "Your Doc Savage is supposed to devote his services to mankind, yet he goes off some place where he cannot be found when he is needed the most!"

Edna was disappointed at not finding Doc Savage here, and with an unreasonableness not uncommon to the fair sex, was inclined to blame Doc for not being there.

"Young lady," Ham said severely, "you do not realize that Doc Savage's benefactions to humanity extend beyond helping every Tom, Dick, and Harry, or Mary, Jane, and Anne out of their private troubles. Doc Savage has a great laboratory at some remote spot in the world, a laboratory that is unquestionably the finest in existence. That is my opinion, although even I, one of his five best friends, am not sure. No doubt he has retired there, and when he appears, he will be bearing some new contribution which will save thousands of lives.

"That contribution may be a new method of curing some disease. It may be anything. But it will be of vastly more importance than any personal misfortune you or anybody else might have met in the meantime!"

Ham had spoken with a passion to which he was seldom moved. At his words, the pretty young woman looked very angry, then thoughtful, and, finally, contrite.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Ham bowed an apology. "Pardon my bluntness, if you will. I realize you were not fully aware of the amazing character of Doc Savage."

Ham now conducted Big Eric and Edna through the rest of Doc Savage's skyscraper aлrie.

In an adjoining room was one of the most complete scientific libraries to be found. Thousands of volumes lined the walls and filled massive floor cases.

Next came the laboratory, a very large room, replete with benches of apparatus and case after case of rare chemicals and metals. Efficient electric furnaces, mixing machines, exhausting machines, and equipment of which no one but Doc Savage knew the use, were set on permanent bases here and there.

"The second most complete laboratory in existence," said Ham proudly. "The most complete is undoubtedly the one which nobody but Doc has ever seen."

THEY returned to the outer office.

"Isn't there any possible way we can get hold of Doc Savage?" Big Eric asked desperately.

"Absolutely no way!" declared Ham. "He will appear here. Until he does, no one can get word to him. Doc demands absolute solitude when he does his greatest work. It may be weeks before he returns. It may be minutes."

"I've got millions of dollars," Big Eric muttered. "If money will—"

"It might interest you to know," Ham smiled dryly, "that during the past year Doc Savage has probably spent on worthy causes more millions than you possess."

"Where'd he get his jack?" inquired Big Eric, with the natural curiosity of a man who has made a success wishing to know how another man accomplished the same thing.

Ham ignored the question to make a statement.

"Doc Savage has merely to step into a radio station at a certain hour on a certain day, and broadcast a few words in a language not one person in ten million understands. Within a few days, he will receive automatically a shipment of several million dollars' worth of pure gold."

Big Eric goggled.

"Golly!" he sputtered. "Where does it come from?"

Ham shook his head. "I am not at liberty to tell any one."

Nor could the most agonizing tortures have forced Ham to reveal the source of Doc Savage's fabulous and perpetual wealth. It came from a lost valley in a remote section of Central America, did that limitless flow of gold—from a valley defended by descendants of the great Mayan civilization of ancient times. The wealth was supplied by the Mayans to be devoted solely to the benefiting of mankind, and it was through Doc Savage that they knew it would be expended for that purpose.

But the source of the gold was a secret to all but Doc and his five friends, of whom Ham was one.

Beautiful Edna Danielsen twined her fingers together thoughtfully. She was beginning to realize Doc Savage was a personage mighty beyond all her imaginings.

She wondered what he looked like. He'd probably be a shriveled little wart with a head like a barrel. He would wear glasses with lenses as thick as milk-bottle bottoms.

Doc's body would be just ample enough to carry his magnificent set of brains around, Edna decided. That was always the way with geniuses. They had spent all their life studying intensively—which in truth is what makes a genius. But as a consequence, they became pale, shriveled, bald specimens.

It wasn't a complimentary mental picture Edna painted of what she expected Doc Savage to look like. She reflected he'd have whiskers. They'd look like he was going around with his chin buried in a bird nest.

Edna was due for a shock.

SUDDENLY Ham jumped as though stung. Into the office there had penetrated a weird sound!

It was low, mellow, trilling. It might have been the alarm note of some strange feathered songster of the jungle, or the sound of an undulating breeze filtering through a jungled forest. Beautifully melodious, it still had no tune; and it was inspiring without being in the least awesome.

"Doc Savage!" Ham said softly.

For this was the sound that was a part of Doc—a small, unconscious thing which he did in moments of intense concentration. To his friends, it was both the cry of battle and the song of triumph. It would come from his lips in moments of stress—when events of importance impended.

It had the peculiar quality of seeming to come from everywhere rather than from a definite spot. It might have been emanating from inside the office. Yet Doc Savage was certainly nowhere about.

A commotion burst in the corridor outside.

A man screamed. It was a terrified scream. A pistol exploded. It filled the corridor with deafening echoes.

A moan followed.

Then silence came.

THE corridor door opened swiftly. An amazing picture was revealed.

In mid-air before the door, a man was suspended. Bandages which had swathed the man's features were disarranged. A yellow-haired wig hung askew, revealing hair that was black and slick as the back of a greased turtle.

It was the man who had attempted the life of Big Eric and Edna in the passenger air liner. He must have raced to New York in a chartered plane.

But the slick-haired man was forgotten as Big Eric and Edna stared at the arm and hand which held the fellow in mid-air.

Such an arm! It was Herculean, yet so perfectly formed that Its great size was evident only in comparison to the man it held as effortlessly as it would suspend a rag.

The muscles and tendons were like bundles of piano wire. The fingers were long, yet so muscular that they had utterly paralyzed the slick-haired man by their mere grasp upon his scrawny neck.

Most remarkable of all was the unusual deep bronze color of the flesh. Indeed, the skin seemed to be simply a bronze lacquer applied to the corded steel of the tendons.

The remainder of a mighty bronze form which had been masked by the door now appeared. The slick-haired victim was carried easily, his feet twitching weakly several inches off the floor.

"Doc Savage!" Ham said softly once more.

Pretty Edna Danielsen was stunned. Could thisbe the famous Doc Savage, who she had pictured as a shriveled runt, with whiskers and bottle-bottom glasses?

Why, this man was the most astounding physical specimen she had ever seen! The muscular development of that bronze body was little short of incredible.

And the bronze face! The beautiful Louisiana girl knew she had never gazed upon more striking features. They were perfect in their strong regularity. The hair, of a slightly darker bronze, lay back smoothly.

It was Doc Savage's eyes that held her though. They were strange, marvelous eyes. They glittered like pools of flake gold as they caught little lights from the ceiling chandelier. Those golden eyes seemed to have a power of conveying commands solely by their expressive quality.

Doc Savage released the slick-haired man. So terrible had been the grip upon his neck, the fellow fell to the floor as though paralyzed.

"He was listening outside the door," Doc said. "He had a gun in his hand, as though he were going to leap in here, shooting. Fortunately, the gun missed me when it went off as I seized him."

Doc's voice was capable of wondrous tonal changes.

"He's one of the Gray Spider's men!" said Big Eric.

Big Eric's words were little more than a whisper. He was awed by the impressive presence of this great man of bronze.

And it was the first time Big Eric had been awed by any man!

DOC SAVAGE moved into the laboratory. His going was so light and effortless that he seemed to flow like a quick puff of bronze smoke across the carpet.