The Spirit of Iron Eyes by Rory Black Read Free Book Online Page B

swallowed hard and tapped his spurs
again.
    The black gelding started to canter as its
master continued to brood.
    Tom Quaid still had a million questions
filling his mind as his mount gathered pace. The trouble was, he
now had a million answers too.
    Which one was right?
    He knew that he would find out when he
reached the high moonlit ridge. Until then, he could do nothing
except ride.

Chapter Eight
    Iron Eyes had watched the moon move across
the heavens and knew that it must be more than an hour since the
Apache had stopped attacking him. They were still down there amid
the brush and rocks. He could smell the food they were cooking even
though he could not make out where their camp-fire was. Yet Iron
Eyes was seldom hungry at the best of times, and this was far from
being the best of times. Only one thought filled his mind as
droplets of blood continued to drip from the limp strands of his
long hair: was it possible to escape? Nothing had ever defeated him
before, but this time he knew that he was in a pretty tight spot.
Since the Apache had stopped their attack he had used up the
seemingly eternal time to good purpose. He had used the razor-sharp
edge of his knife to trim all the cigar fragments he had found in
his pockets into a score of smaller smokes.
    And he had waited.
    Waited to see if the Indians
were trying to fool him into thinking that they would not fight during the
night. So far they had not tried to do anything and the bounty
hunter began to believe that he was safe until sunrise. He gripped
one of the cigar trimmings in his teeth and looked around the cave
as the moonlight crept deeper into it. The cave was like a tomb. A
burial place waiting for a corpse to fill its large belly. Iron
Eyes had no intention of being that corpse.
    When the sun had set he had wondered if it
were possible for him to climb down from the high cave, steal one
of the Apache ponies and make his escape. It had been a idea which
had soon evaporated when the large bright moon had risen over the
prairie to replace the blazing sun.
    The moon was big and bright and
there wasn ’t
a cloud in the sky that might give him cover.
    Iron Eyes knew there was no escape using the
same route that had brought him to this high vantage point. The
haunting blue moonlight ensured that he remained inside the
cave.
    The Indians had been strangely silent since
darkness had swept over the ridge and prairie. Yet they were still
down there amid the brush and rocks. Now though he could hear the
chilling sound of their chanting voices drifting on the warm night
air.
    Iron Eyes knew that they were singing to
their gods.
    Like the bounty hunter, they were still wide
awake.
    Awake and watching the mouth of the
cave.
    But unlike the Apache, Iron Eyes had no gods
to turn to and pray to for help. He was alone, as he had always
been. Alone with only his own demons for company.
    Iron Eyes knew that there were no more than
seven hours of darkness at this time of the year and at least one
of them had already come and gone.
    He rose to his feet and felt the roof of the
cave touch his tender scalp. He stooped and moved deeper into the
cave trying to work out how far it went into the ridge.
    Could this be a tunnel which
actually went right the way through the sand- colored rock?
    Iron Eyes found his matches again, struck
one on the cave wall and stared deeper into the dark natural
tunnel. It seemed to go on for quite a long way. The match went out
when its flame seemed to catch a small draught.
    The bounty hunter was curious.
    He ignited another match with his thumbnail
and held it ahead of him toward the back of cave.
    Again the flame was blown out.
    Iron Eyes knew that there was a gentle
breeze blowing through the cave from somewhere far into the ridge
of sandy stone. Was there a way out of here?
    There had to be, he surmised. Fresh air did
not come out of the bowels of the earth. But it did flow through
tunnels.
    The tall man returned to his
coat and guns. He scooped the