Kill or Die Read Online Free PDF Page A

be forced to leave?”
    â€œFlintlock, you heard the lady,” O’Hara said. “Your mother will move out or die. Even for a white man that’s a simple concept.”
    Evangeline rose and crossed the rough timber floor, the high boot heels drumming. She put her arms around Flintlock’s shoulders and said, “Come and sit down. I’ll get you a glass of wine.” The woman smelled of red roses and green moss.
    As he rose, Flintlock hit his head on the hanging alligator. “Damned crocodiles are going to get me one way or the other,” he said.
    O’Hara vacated his chair for Flintlock and sat cross-legged on the floor.
    â€œI didn’t thank you for saving my life . . . miss . . .” Flintlock said.
    â€œMy name is Evangeline. Here, drink this wine. It will help sustain you. I didn’t set out to save your life, Mr.—”
    â€œSam.”
    The woman smiled. “Then Sam it is. I was hunting Basilisk in the swamp and saw your predicament. It was a most singular situation and a matter of the greatest moment that I save you from the jaws of the reptile.”
    â€œYou got a bullet into him,” Flintlock said.
    â€œYes, but that wasn’t Basilisk,” Evangeline said. “It was a much smaller alligator.”
    â€œWhy do you risk your life trying to kill a giant alligator?” Flintlock said. It hurt his cracked lips to talk.
    â€œBecause he killed a friend of mine, an old black man who fished the swamp,” Evangeline said. “To borrow your colorful turn of speech, Sam, I got a bullet into him that day. He’s hated me ever since.”
    O’Hara smiled. “Can animals hate?”
    â€œBasilisk can and does. He wants to kill me very badly. How is the wine, Sam?”
    â€œReal good, ma’am,” Flintlock said.
    â€œIt’s made right here in the swamp, from wild grapes.”
    Suddenly O’Hara was alert. “What’s that?” he said.
    Flintlock heard it moments later . . . a steady thrumming that seemed to come from above the cabin.
    â€œStep out onto my deck and I’ll show you,” Evangeline said. “It will be your introduction to Brewster Ritter.”
    The deck was railed and quite small with just room enough for a heavy rocking chair and side table. But Flintlock didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on the sky.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    â€œThis is an excellent way to travel, my dear Ritter,” said Simon Luke, owner and chairman of the Lucky Luke Lumber Company of Pennsylvania. “Like a bird. I say, like a bird.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” Brewster Ritter said. “As dirigibles go, the Star Scraper is small, more a runabout than a long-distance flying machine.”
    â€œBut it’s deuced comfortable,” Luke said. “I have room to stretch my legs, a table with a decanter of port and box of cigars at my elbow. What more does a civilized man need?”
    Behind Luke a small man wearing a leather helmet and large goggles was at the tiller, a propeller spinning in a shining disc behind him. The man wore a canvas coat fastened by a row of brass buckles and leather gauntlets.
    â€œHow is the boiler temperature, Professor Mealy?” Ritter said. “Is it still fluctuating?
    â€œNo, steady as she goes, Mr. Ritter,” Jasper Mealy said. “The engine is performing flawlessly, sir.”
    Ritter, a small, self-important man with iron gray hair and a short, clipped beard, nodded. “Carry on, Professor Mealy.” Then to Luke, “Well, from your lofty perch, what do you think of my plan?”
    â€œI’ll buy all the sawn lumber you can send me, Mr. Ritter,” Luke said. “Damn my eyes, but there must be thousands of cypress in this swamp.”
    Ritter smiled. “You’ve seen only a part of it. There are thousands more to be had.”
    â€œYou’ll make us both rich,” Luke said. “Or richer, as the case may