Manchurian Books

Huldricksson's laboured breathing
ceased, his head dropped upon Larry's knee, and from his arms and
hands the whiteness swiftly withdrew.
Marakinoff arose and contemplated us--almost benevolently.
"He will all right be in five minutes," he said. "I know. I do it to
pay for that shot of mine, and also because we will need him. Yes." He
turned to Larry. "You have a poonch like a mule kick, my young
friend," he said. "Some time you pay me for that, too, eh?" He smiled;
and the quality of the grimace was not exactly reassuring. Larry
looked him over quizzically.
"You're Marakinoff, of course," he said. The Russian nodded,
betraying no surprise at the recognition.
"And you?" he asked.
"Lieutenant O'Keefe of the Royal Flying Corps," replied Larry,
saluting. "And this gentleman is Dr. Walter T. Goodwin."
Marakinoff's face brightened.
"The American botanist?" he queried. I nodded.
"Ah," cried Marakinoff eagerly, "but this is fortunate. Long I have
desired to meet you. Your work, for an American, is most excellent;
surprising.


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