Star Ship on Saddle Mountain Read Free Page A

now—
watching.
Then something cool touched Charlie's neck from
behind him. He whirled—his heart skipping a beat!
"Doggone, Nav! Don't you know any better than to
sneak up on me like that?"
Charlie put an arm about Navajo's neck, lowering
his voice after the first scared outburst. He didn't know why he
had reacted to Navajo's touch like that. Many times before, Navajo
had come up behind him, gently nudging him. Just an affectionate
touch with his smooth nose. Poor old Nav, Charlie thought, he feels
sort of scared, too. Then Charlie rubbed Navajo's side with long
easy strokes, hoping to ease the horse's nervous tremblings.
For a long while Charlie sat holding the fishline,
just staring across the lake at the black silhouette towering
grimly against the night sky. Bright silver stars were shining now,
like the silver all shined up for tourists, at the Reservation. It
took Charlie only a little while to decide, finally, what he must
do. Leaving his equipment and the fishline, Charlie quickly mounted
Navajo.
Turning downstream, he headed for the Dam bridge at
the foot of the lake, the short roadway that ran across the top of
it to the California side of the Colorado River. The place where
Saddle Mountain stood silently on the desert.
"There's something over there, Nav, that I can't
figure. Maybe—" but Charlie stopped, letting the thought go without
speaking it aloud. For even as he spoke, shivers edged up his back,
running into his neck and making his scalp crawl. He glanced from
side to side quickly, all about them, sure that someone was
watching him.
It reminded him of a time once long ago, when he
and Uncle John were hunting up in mountain country. It was the
third night out on that trip, and up to then they had seen no game
at all. Uncle John had sat up suddenly, then quickly got out of his
sleeping bag when he saw how jittery Navajo had become. Then—they
both saw it at once. Two big, burning yellow eyes, shining at them
from just beyond the last glowing embers of their camp fire. It was
a mountain lion. The big cat was stalking Navajo, but had hesitated
when it saw Uncle John and Charlie nearby. It was then Uncle John
had carefully picked up the already loaded rifle, his old army
30-30, and took careful aim. He fired—just as the big cat crouched
low for the final spring at Navajo. One shot echoed in the silent
night about them, reechoing throughout the hills. Navajo had
whinnied wildly, prancing about. The big cat was dead.
But as he rode Navajo now, this feeling of being
stalked was far greater than at that other time years ago. Besides,
this was too near the camp at the Dam. Mountain lion kept clear of
where people lived, mostly, and never came near towns. They
wouldn't have to come this close to the Dam to get water from the
lake or river. They'd stay much further upstream, in the
hills.
"It's no big cat, Nav," Charlie said aloud to
Navajo, as well as to reassure himself. "Whatever it is, it's
something else around these parts. Something else . . ."
Charlie rode around the small slip upstream from
the Dam, where the big barge and the fish and game warden's
motorboat were kept. Sometime later he noticed the dim outline of
the high steel frame tower, high atop a hill, on which the high
tension powerlines were strung out across the desert, westward
across California, carrying hydro-electric power to the City of Los
Angeles. Charlie knew in a few moments he would turn the corner of
the hill, traveling this dirt road at its base, and there out
across the flat sands in the darkness, he would dimly see the
mighty bulk that should be twins—the two craggy peaks of Saddle
Mountain. The tension within him grew, rising steadily with
Navajo's every step on the dusty roadway. He patted the old horse
once again.
Then—Charlie reined in suddenly, stopping abruptly
as he completed the bend in the narrow road. He was face to face
with the giant called Saddle Mountain. A short exclamation died
unspoken on his lips. He just