prevented Beacon from determining the figure's gender from its stride. The figure looked anxiously back down the trail towards the valley as it disappeared into the trees.
Beacon pulled back the edge of the cuff on his wolves' fir jacket and glanced at his diamond encrusted self-winding gold watch. His relief was due. He decided to investigate.
A few minutes later Beacon heard his relief shambling up to the watchtower's ladder. Telling the man he'd be going hunting in a few minutes Beacon hurried to the trailer he shared with Old Bill and exchanged the M1A and its magazine laden vest for the Ruger 10/22; putting a few twenty-five round "banana clip" magazines in the inner pockets of his wolves skin coat he headed out the door with his escape rope before Old Bill could awaken and question him.
Back outside he slung his rifle over his back and, being quite so as not to awaken Old Bill, carefully climbed up the ladder on the back of his trailer and walked silently across the trailer's roof. He exchanged waves with the guard in the tower then he put the knotted rope's loop around the top of one of the logs and dropped the other end over the wall on the outside of the fort. When he'd climbed down the other side, he tossed the rope end back up over into the stockade so it would land behind the trailer and picked his way out through the ankle high barbed wire tanglefoot trip wires surrounding the stockade.
The tanglefoot traps consisted of nothing more than fore stakes sticking about eighteen inches above the ground in a square about six by six feet with a single strand of barbed wire going around the outside of them on top forming a square. Two more strands of barbed wire crisscrossed the square Xing it out. The barbed wire tanglefoot kept attackers from going prone to shoot and slowed walking so attackers made easy targets while allowing goats and sheep to graze keeping the area at the foot of the fort clear of grass and bushes.
Weaving between vegetable gardens with his head on a swivel he detected no danger so as he exited the last of the chicken wire protected private garden plots so he took out after the kid using a plainsman's walk. He didn't want the guard to think he was hurrying. No use starting rumors.
The spoor wasn't easy to follow in the moonlight, but the limping kid had followed the trail led up from Maggie's pile of bones at the base of the valley so Beacon concentrated on looking for sign that the kid had stepped off the beaten path. The trail stayed mostly within the tree line which was why Beacon hadn't spotted the kid coming up the valley in the shadow of the trees despite the silence of the windless night.
As the trail began worming its way deeper into the forest at the base of the mountain Beacon felt a sudden rising of the hairs on the back of his neck. Some sight, sound or scent so subtle his conscious mind hadn't registered it was telling his subconscious he was in imminent danger. He knew better than to ignore that warning, he froze.
He could detect no hint of danger but knew something was amiss. He was in shadow, but he needed cover or at least concealment. Very slowly, moving each foot a few inches at a time, he backed into the deeper shadow between two young pine trees and waited.
Eventually he thought he detected the sound of breathing coming from under a young pine tree just up the trail to his right front but he couldn't see anyone because of the darkness and the branches which hung down almost to the ground.
Then he heard someone hurrying up his back trail. It was a man with a pistol in one hand and a dog on a rope in the other. The dog was pulling him along as it sniffed the ground. Beacon silently edged behind one of the Christmas tree sized pine trees.
The dog came even with the tree and stopped looking directly at Beacon. The man raised his pistol, pointing it at Beacon's tree. "Come on out Gail I
Beacon pulled back the edge of the cuff on his wolves' fir jacket and glanced at his diamond encrusted self-winding gold watch. His relief was due. He decided to investigate.
A few minutes later Beacon heard his relief shambling up to the watchtower's ladder. Telling the man he'd be going hunting in a few minutes Beacon hurried to the trailer he shared with Old Bill and exchanged the M1A and its magazine laden vest for the Ruger 10/22; putting a few twenty-five round "banana clip" magazines in the inner pockets of his wolves skin coat he headed out the door with his escape rope before Old Bill could awaken and question him.
Back outside he slung his rifle over his back and, being quite so as not to awaken Old Bill, carefully climbed up the ladder on the back of his trailer and walked silently across the trailer's roof. He exchanged waves with the guard in the tower then he put the knotted rope's loop around the top of one of the logs and dropped the other end over the wall on the outside of the fort. When he'd climbed down the other side, he tossed the rope end back up over into the stockade so it would land behind the trailer and picked his way out through the ankle high barbed wire tanglefoot trip wires surrounding the stockade.
The tanglefoot traps consisted of nothing more than fore stakes sticking about eighteen inches above the ground in a square about six by six feet with a single strand of barbed wire going around the outside of them on top forming a square. Two more strands of barbed wire crisscrossed the square Xing it out. The barbed wire tanglefoot kept attackers from going prone to shoot and slowed walking so attackers made easy targets while allowing goats and sheep to graze keeping the area at the foot of the fort clear of grass and bushes.
Weaving between vegetable gardens with his head on a swivel he detected no danger so as he exited the last of the chicken wire protected private garden plots so he took out after the kid using a plainsman's walk. He didn't want the guard to think he was hurrying. No use starting rumors.
The spoor wasn't easy to follow in the moonlight, but the limping kid had followed the trail led up from Maggie's pile of bones at the base of the valley so Beacon concentrated on looking for sign that the kid had stepped off the beaten path. The trail stayed mostly within the tree line which was why Beacon hadn't spotted the kid coming up the valley in the shadow of the trees despite the silence of the windless night.
As the trail began worming its way deeper into the forest at the base of the mountain Beacon felt a sudden rising of the hairs on the back of his neck. Some sight, sound or scent so subtle his conscious mind hadn't registered it was telling his subconscious he was in imminent danger. He knew better than to ignore that warning, he froze.
He could detect no hint of danger but knew something was amiss. He was in shadow, but he needed cover or at least concealment. Very slowly, moving each foot a few inches at a time, he backed into the deeper shadow between two young pine trees and waited.
Eventually he thought he detected the sound of breathing coming from under a young pine tree just up the trail to his right front but he couldn't see anyone because of the darkness and the branches which hung down almost to the ground.
Then he heard someone hurrying up his back trail. It was a man with a pistol in one hand and a dog on a rope in the other. The dog was pulling him along as it sniffed the ground. Beacon silently edged behind one of the Christmas tree sized pine trees.
The dog came even with the tree and stopped looking directly at Beacon. The man raised his pistol, pointing it at Beacon's tree. "Come on out Gail I
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