his wrists and the backs of his hands matted with dark hair. He looked like someone who spent much of his life outdoors, a man who could take care of himself. His expression was closed and hard. A loner, I thought.
"I did not see you properly for a moment," he confessed, lowering the rifle and coming over to join me. "I thought you were an Argentine soldier. I'm sorry I couldn't reach the rendezvous; the roads were crawling with soldiers. I managed to work my way round and pick up your trail."
Doug moved up to join us. "Welcome, friend," he said drily. "We missed you at the rendezvous." Doug mistrusted spooks.
Seb shook his head as if he had no time for pleasantries. "The Argentines know you shot down a plane. There's a patrol right behind me. Fifteen men with a light mortar."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Seb didn't need to say more. A platoon of men with a mortar could sit out of range of our weapons and blow us to pieces. Then they could pick off the survivors at will. The three of us scrambled back to the others. We had two options: to lay an ambush and take them out or to quicken our pace and try to lose them. Ambush would've been the preferred option, but with the possibility of other patrols in the vicinity it was too risky. We could delay them a bit, though. Tom and Taffy, our demolitions experts, rigged up a couple of grenades on tripwires across the path it took them no more than a minute then we moved out at a run.
We jogged on in single file, Taffy leading this time, Seb following to give directions and myself bringing up the rear. I had been worried about whether he could keep up but Seb ran easily. He wore hiking boots and carried a hunter's light knapsack. He steered us unhesitatingly through a confusing tangle of small intersecting valleys. It was a relief to feel we were in safe hands. We splashed across a small river that chattered over its rocky bed, and Seb paused to check out the country beyond.
We had come out on to open ground again. In front of us stretched undulating ridges of pampas with tall grasses waving in the wind. Silently Seb pointed to a line offence posts marching across the horizon half a mile off.
"The border?" Guy asked after a moment.
Seb nodded.
"Is it guarded?"
He shook his head. "Not here. Further up where the road crosses the frontier there is a customs post."
I turned around to scan back the way we had come with the scope sight on my rifle. It looked as though we had shaken off the pursuit. Then abruptly I spied a cautious movement among the trees along the stream, about 500 metres off, long gunshot range. "Andy," I called softly, 'that patrol is moving along our trail. They'll be up with us in the next ten minutes."
"Do not shoot," Seb whispered. "If you do they will claim hot pursuit and follow you across the border into Chile."
"Will they respect the frontier line otherwise, do you think?" Guy asked.
"They have instructions not to cross unless fired upon," Seb answered soberly. "If you six will go straight on over now, I will try to delay the patrol."
"How will you do that on your own?" Andy wanted to know.
"I will tell them that I saw your party, numbering twelve or fifteen men, heavily armed, heading north-west towards the border," he said simply. "These are conscripts, not regular troops. They will not hurry to catch you up if they think you are so many."
We looked at the border, half a mile off, and back in the direction of the pursuing enemy. "You sure you wouldn't rather come with us?" Guy asked him. "You're taking a risk going back."
"I know what I am doing, trust me," Seb told him. He shook hands briefly with the six of us. "Now go quickly," he said. "Five hundred metres beyond the fence posts you will come to a track leading south-west. Follow that for two miles and you reach a village. There you can get transport to San Sebastian."
With a quick wave of the hand he strode away into the bush, vanishing rapidly among the trees. I felt an obscure sense of loss at his
"I did not see you properly for a moment," he confessed, lowering the rifle and coming over to join me. "I thought you were an Argentine soldier. I'm sorry I couldn't reach the rendezvous; the roads were crawling with soldiers. I managed to work my way round and pick up your trail."
Doug moved up to join us. "Welcome, friend," he said drily. "We missed you at the rendezvous." Doug mistrusted spooks.
Seb shook his head as if he had no time for pleasantries. "The Argentines know you shot down a plane. There's a patrol right behind me. Fifteen men with a light mortar."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Seb didn't need to say more. A platoon of men with a mortar could sit out of range of our weapons and blow us to pieces. Then they could pick off the survivors at will. The three of us scrambled back to the others. We had two options: to lay an ambush and take them out or to quicken our pace and try to lose them. Ambush would've been the preferred option, but with the possibility of other patrols in the vicinity it was too risky. We could delay them a bit, though. Tom and Taffy, our demolitions experts, rigged up a couple of grenades on tripwires across the path it took them no more than a minute then we moved out at a run.
We jogged on in single file, Taffy leading this time, Seb following to give directions and myself bringing up the rear. I had been worried about whether he could keep up but Seb ran easily. He wore hiking boots and carried a hunter's light knapsack. He steered us unhesitatingly through a confusing tangle of small intersecting valleys. It was a relief to feel we were in safe hands. We splashed across a small river that chattered over its rocky bed, and Seb paused to check out the country beyond.
We had come out on to open ground again. In front of us stretched undulating ridges of pampas with tall grasses waving in the wind. Silently Seb pointed to a line offence posts marching across the horizon half a mile off.
"The border?" Guy asked after a moment.
Seb nodded.
"Is it guarded?"
He shook his head. "Not here. Further up where the road crosses the frontier there is a customs post."
I turned around to scan back the way we had come with the scope sight on my rifle. It looked as though we had shaken off the pursuit. Then abruptly I spied a cautious movement among the trees along the stream, about 500 metres off, long gunshot range. "Andy," I called softly, 'that patrol is moving along our trail. They'll be up with us in the next ten minutes."
"Do not shoot," Seb whispered. "If you do they will claim hot pursuit and follow you across the border into Chile."
"Will they respect the frontier line otherwise, do you think?" Guy asked.
"They have instructions not to cross unless fired upon," Seb answered soberly. "If you six will go straight on over now, I will try to delay the patrol."
"How will you do that on your own?" Andy wanted to know.
"I will tell them that I saw your party, numbering twelve or fifteen men, heavily armed, heading north-west towards the border," he said simply. "These are conscripts, not regular troops. They will not hurry to catch you up if they think you are so many."
We looked at the border, half a mile off, and back in the direction of the pursuing enemy. "You sure you wouldn't rather come with us?" Guy asked him. "You're taking a risk going back."
"I know what I am doing, trust me," Seb told him. He shook hands briefly with the six of us. "Now go quickly," he said. "Five hundred metres beyond the fence posts you will come to a track leading south-west. Follow that for two miles and you reach a village. There you can get transport to San Sebastian."
With a quick wave of the hand he strode away into the bush, vanishing rapidly among the trees. I felt an obscure sense of loss at his
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