The kid stood still, surveying the situation. From time to time his gaze would freeze on a rooftop or the interior of a building, and I knew he had pinpointed yet another of the bounty hunters who lay in wait for him. He was dressed in a faded, nondescript brown outfit. A laser pistol rested in a holster at his side, no longer connected to its battery pack, ready for instant use. A sonic pistol was tucked into his belt, a rifle was slung over his shoulder, and the handle of yet another pistol could be seen peeking out from the top of his left boot. He wore no hat, and the hot wind whipped through his golden hair so that it framed his face much as the halos in religious paintings framed the faces of human saints. Evidently the man who had told us to go inside was out of range, for the Kid paid no attention to him, but concentrated instead on studying the nearer buildings. There were perspiration stains beneath his armpits, and the back of his shirt clung moistly to him, but he seemed in no hurry to move either into town or back out into the desert.
