They had seen them—shadowy movements in the aspens down below. Once one of them had come tantalizingly close to Hanratty’s body. But they had never offered a clear shot, they had never come out of the trees. The Major said, “The sensible thing is to stay put. Stay here. Let them come to us—we’ll hear their movements. I want this finished tonight.” Baraclough turned his head and looked down through the pines. The tracks they had deliberately left there were easy to see for a distance of at least two hundred feet, even in the dusk, but it was evident now that the pursuers weren’t going to fall for that. Burt said, “Christ, the damned finish line keeps moving, don’t it? These ain’t no regular hick cops, not the way they keep one think ahead of us.” The Major’s jaw muscles stood out like cables. “I underestimated them. I accept the responsibility for that. But remember who we are, Sergeant. We’re graduates of the finest guerrilla training academy in the world. They’ve given us a little trouble because we didn’t anticipate their intelligence—I take the blame fully for that—but just remember they don’t have a chance.
