Then he moved, swiftly and silently, shifting position along the mountainside, choosing a place of concealment where there seemed to be none. There was no sound. The sudden burst of gun shots had silenced the forest. Even the aspen leaves seemed to cease then- trembling. Sunlight falling through the leaves dappled the earth. He felt good. He was ready. He could feel it in his muscles and in his even, easy breathing. He liked the feel of the rifle, and he knew he was facing the fight of his life. How many men were there? Ben Janish, of course, and probably half a dozen others. Dave Cherry had been one of their best, and he was out of it now, but they did not know that yet, though they might guess. He had seen many good fights among top-notch marksmen where nobody scored any hits, for a marksman was often adept at choosing cover, at moving. Even to a skilled rifleman, light, shadow, and movement can be deceptive. He took his tune, waiting, thinking it out. Cherry must have left the trail and come along the mountain on foot to try to outflank him.
What do You think about The Man Called Noon (1970)?
