wait until the carcasses became more appetizing.
He was getting so good with the slingshot that he could hit within an inch of where he aimed at thirty feet. At fifteen feet he was accurate even with a stone.
A nine-inch whiptail lizard came into view, and Ben threw a pebble at it to get it moving and then nailed it on the run at twenty feet.
He added it to his cooking birds and then stopped for a moment and looked through his peekhole at Madec.
The man had pitched camp at the foot of thebutte, getting the Jeep in close to the breccia. He had parked facing the butte and had put up the tent behind the Jeep. The water cans were in under the awning of the tent, lined up in a neat row in the shade.
Madec was doing something around behind the Jeep. Ben could see his shadow moving.
As he sat down again and fitted the slingshot back into his hand he knew that it was foolish to imagine that he was safe just because he had food and water and Madec could not shoot him.
Madec would change that.
He was locked to that man down on the desert. They were chained together.
Perhaps a different man would have left the desert by now, sure that Ben could not make it out. But Madec would not do that. He would stay until he saw that his plan had been worked out to the last detail.
Madec would not leave him here alive.
As Ben sat going over in his mind what had happened since the first roar of that .358, a thought formed and became clearer and clearer until he realized that it was the only thing he could do.
The chain between them was hundreds of feet long now, stretching from high on the butte down the steep side, across the breccia and the smoother, sandier desert and over to the Jeep, locking at last to Madec.
For me to live, Ben thought, that chain mustbe drawn shorter. It must be drawn in link by link until he and I are face to face.
And somehow when we do come face to face, he must be as naked as I am.
I cannot let Madec come to me, Ben thought. I cannot let him choose his place and his time and his method of coming.
I must either go to him or I must pull him to me.
Ben laid aside the slingshot and went over to a hole in the wall.
Madec was walking toward the butte.
He had the big gun slung over one shoulder and the coil of tow rope over the other and was carrying the heavy canvas bag in which Ben stowed tools and gear.
He’s coming to me, Ben thought. Coming at his choice of place and time and method.
Madec disappeared from view as he moved in close to the wall of the butte.
Ben went on to the end of the tunnel and waited there, not exposing himself.
The sound was clear but faint. Listening to it he could almost see what Madec was doing down there.
In the canvas bag there was a geological hammer with a flat peen on one end and a long, rock-breaking spike on the other. Madec was down there at the foot of the butte cutting a stairway up the side of it.
The sound ceased for a moment and then a new sound came up, clear and almost musical,the sound of metal hammering metal.
Now he was driving a piton into a crack in the rock.
For a moment Ben wondered what Madec was using for a piton. Then he thought of the long steel pegs he carried in case he had to pitch a tent in stony ground with a high wind.
With the rope secured to the tent pegs driven into the face of the wall and with handholds and footholds hacked out of it, Madec was starting to climb the butte.
Although he knew that Madec probably could not see him, Ben took no chances as he left the tunnel and went out on the wide ledge. Staying low against the far side, which rose in a smooth wall, he hurried along, noticing as he went how the ledge not only slanted upward but was narrowing.
At last the ledge became so narrow that he could not walk on it and, a few feet farther on, faired back into the escarpment.
The escarpment was a wall of smooth stone, inclined outward. This leaning wall towered above him for more than fifty feet and formed, it appeared, the top of
He was getting so good with the slingshot that he could hit within an inch of where he aimed at thirty feet. At fifteen feet he was accurate even with a stone.
A nine-inch whiptail lizard came into view, and Ben threw a pebble at it to get it moving and then nailed it on the run at twenty feet.
He added it to his cooking birds and then stopped for a moment and looked through his peekhole at Madec.
The man had pitched camp at the foot of thebutte, getting the Jeep in close to the breccia. He had parked facing the butte and had put up the tent behind the Jeep. The water cans were in under the awning of the tent, lined up in a neat row in the shade.
Madec was doing something around behind the Jeep. Ben could see his shadow moving.
As he sat down again and fitted the slingshot back into his hand he knew that it was foolish to imagine that he was safe just because he had food and water and Madec could not shoot him.
Madec would change that.
He was locked to that man down on the desert. They were chained together.
Perhaps a different man would have left the desert by now, sure that Ben could not make it out. But Madec would not do that. He would stay until he saw that his plan had been worked out to the last detail.
Madec would not leave him here alive.
As Ben sat going over in his mind what had happened since the first roar of that .358, a thought formed and became clearer and clearer until he realized that it was the only thing he could do.
The chain between them was hundreds of feet long now, stretching from high on the butte down the steep side, across the breccia and the smoother, sandier desert and over to the Jeep, locking at last to Madec.
For me to live, Ben thought, that chain mustbe drawn shorter. It must be drawn in link by link until he and I are face to face.
And somehow when we do come face to face, he must be as naked as I am.
I cannot let Madec come to me, Ben thought. I cannot let him choose his place and his time and his method of coming.
I must either go to him or I must pull him to me.
Ben laid aside the slingshot and went over to a hole in the wall.
Madec was walking toward the butte.
He had the big gun slung over one shoulder and the coil of tow rope over the other and was carrying the heavy canvas bag in which Ben stowed tools and gear.
He’s coming to me, Ben thought. Coming at his choice of place and time and method.
Madec disappeared from view as he moved in close to the wall of the butte.
Ben went on to the end of the tunnel and waited there, not exposing himself.
The sound was clear but faint. Listening to it he could almost see what Madec was doing down there.
In the canvas bag there was a geological hammer with a flat peen on one end and a long, rock-breaking spike on the other. Madec was down there at the foot of the butte cutting a stairway up the side of it.
The sound ceased for a moment and then a new sound came up, clear and almost musical,the sound of metal hammering metal.
Now he was driving a piton into a crack in the rock.
For a moment Ben wondered what Madec was using for a piton. Then he thought of the long steel pegs he carried in case he had to pitch a tent in stony ground with a high wind.
With the rope secured to the tent pegs driven into the face of the wall and with handholds and footholds hacked out of it, Madec was starting to climb the butte.
Although he knew that Madec probably could not see him, Ben took no chances as he left the tunnel and went out on the wide ledge. Staying low against the far side, which rose in a smooth wall, he hurried along, noticing as he went how the ledge not only slanted upward but was narrowing.
At last the ledge became so narrow that he could not walk on it and, a few feet farther on, faired back into the escarpment.
The escarpment was a wall of smooth stone, inclined outward. This leaning wall towered above him for more than fifty feet and formed, it appeared, the top of
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