Star Ship on Saddle Mountain Read Online Free PDF Page A

the river.
Charlie's eyes went with it as he held his breath. A small sound
choked in his throat as the moonlight threw its ghastly light on
the spot where the dirt road turned around the bend. He saw them.
The three black-hooded figures stood out clear and
ominous against the stark whiteness of the sand. They were coming,
slowly and steadily along the road, heading directly toward the
Shack.
Fascinated like a coyote by a rattlesnake, Charlie
stood there staring as they approached. Maybe they didn't even have
feet like ordinary people, for they just seemed to be standing on
the road—but moving closer all the time. Forcing himself to turn
away from the window, Charlie ran to the big fireplace. He reached
up, and this time he took down Uncle John's old army 30-30 rifle.
The old Springfield had a kick that was almost as good as the one
Navajo used on the side of the house. It was much more powerful
than the Winchester which had not been made for battle.
    Hurriedly opening the old cigar
box of brass cartridges clips, he shoved one clip home, ramming it
down into the open breech with his thumb. Then he shoved the bolt
home and flicked up the safety-catch—to OFF . Charlie half-opened the bolt,
just to make sure the first of the cartridge shells had been
engaged and shoved into the rifle's chamber. Satisfied, he closed
it again. With his finger in the trigger- guard, he walked over to
the window.
At first, Charlie couldn't see them. Maybe they
might have decided to go back. Then he put his face close to the
window, and looked out toward the front of the house. There—
standing a short distance from the Shack, Charlie saw the three
tall black figures! He could make out now that they did have legs
and, also, that their black robes seemed to join what looked like
heavy black boots which came up to their knees. The dark hoods hid
their heads completely. But Charlie could tell, even as he silently
watched them now, they were just standing there. Waiting.
Navajo whinnied loudly, shrilly, stamping about out
there in the corral. Charlie could hear him kicking the stagger
poles of the fence. Good old Nav. He was trying to let him know
that strangers were about. Charlie lowered the rifle from the port
breast position. He held it down in a shoot-from-the-hip position
now. He'd fire from the hip. Point blank range. Muzzle pointed
toward the door, he took up the trigger slack.
"If any one of them busts in," Charlie breathed the
words slowly, "he'll get it. The first one that comes through that
door gets it."
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
    Prisoner of the Silent
Visitors
Only the pounding of his heart came to Charlie as
he gripped the rifle steadily. Standing in the middle of the room,
he faced the door, waiting. But as he stood there a shock of pain
flashed through his head. It struck like lightning. Dropping the
rifle, Charlie slapped both hands to the sides of his head, holding
his temples tightly. He doubled over, reeling from the shock as it
came again. Gasping for breath, Charlie cried out.
Slowly, cautiously, he straightened up again. But
as he stood up fully, glad that the door was still safely barred
and the black figures hadn't tried to break in just when he had
that headache, he began to wonder a little about it. He never got
headaches. Not much, anyway. Only that one time long ago, when he
and Uncle John were out hunting and they had
gone without food for a day and a half. But that
headache disappeared quickly, as soon as they got back home to the
Shack and had a big feed.
Just as he began trying to figure out if those
three strangers outside could have had anything to do with that
sudden pain, he went toward the window again. Then he stopped dead
in his tracks. He realized he was nearly across the room and hadn't
picked up the rifle again! It was still there on the floor. Doggone
fool! He wanted to kick himself for pulling a dumb one like that.
But he didn't move. He heard that voice again. It wasn't from the
outside. It was right in