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smile. McAllister didn’t like the sound of it.
    â€œWhat did he say?” he demanded.
    â€œHe asked what you wanted.”
    â€œAnd you told him.”
    â€œI told him.”
    â€œWho is he?”
    â€œThey call him Eagle Man.”
    McAllister asked: “Is he the head of a band?”
    â€œNo. He belongs to the band of Iron Hand.”
    McAllister knew Iron Hand. Who didn’t on the Texas frontier? Who hadn’t suffered from his devastating raids? Iron Hand had been on the ascendancy for some years now, attracting more and more warriors to his band. It was said that even some Kiowas had put themselves under his leadership. On one raid he led down into Texas it was rumored that he had had over three hundred men with him. McAllister didn’t like the look of things.
    McAllister thought awhile. Mrs. Bourn had been taken by Comanches, therefore there was a fifty-fifty chance that she had been taken by Iron Hand. He had known that all along. This man in front of him with his beak nose and pot belly could lead McAllister to him; but who ever heard of a lonewhiteman trailing a party of armed Comanches? It didn’t appeal to him overly.
    Eagle Man spoke, at greater length this time. His speech sounded like the gobbling of a throaty turkey-cock. The Comanchero replied. They tossed words back and forth. Finally, the Mexican asked: “What prisoner do you want?”
    McAllister wasn’t going to be caught with that one. Mrs. Bourn might be one they didn’t want to part with. If they knew that he was after her she might be spirited away before he could get to her.
    â€œI will know her when I see her,” he said.
    The Mexican interpreted that to the Indian and Eagle Man scowled ferociously. The men behind him made angry grunting noises. McAllister wished that he could get the Comancheros from behind his back.
    The Indian gobbled some more.
    The Mexican shrugged and said to McAllister in Spanish: “Eagle Man says that he has several white women, all of whom they would trade.”
    McAllister said: “Tell him if he takes me to Iron Hand I’ll talk.” The mere thought of getting near Iron Hand in the midst of his band was enough to make a man break into a sweat. And McAllister sweated.
    The Indian didn’t answer for a moment, then he spat out a reply. The Mexican passed it on. Eagle Man was going back to his band in the morning, but the Comanches didn’t like talking direct with white men, Let this business be contracted through the Comancheros as it had always been. That was the proper way to do the thing. But McAllister didn’t want to do that.
    â€œI must speak with Iron Hand,” he said.
    That made the Mexican angry. He was the traditional middleman and he could see his profit going up into thin air.
    â€œYou will never get to Iron Hand,” he said heatedly. “You know that, Yanqui. The Comanches do not talk with white men. I am here. Talk with me. Give me the name of this girl. I will talk with Iron Hand. The chief and me, we are like brothers. Let me do it. I will get you a good low price and if I can I will ensure that the woman has not been harmed.”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” McAllister said. “I’ll go now and I’ll come back at dawn maybe and talk again.”
    â€œYou are foolish to lose this chance. Perhaps I shall not be here tomorrow. We Comancheros move all the time.”
    McAllister said: “You be here, man. Or I’ll find you.”
    The men behind him growled. He turned and found that one of them had fitted an arrow to his bow. McAllister turned to the man by the wheel and said: “Tell your boy to behave himself or I’ll put him across my knee.” The
jefe
said something sharply and the man relaxed a little, but he didn’t take the arrow from the string. McAllister pushed through the men, reached his horse with the muscles of his back all tense and stepped into the saddle.