This finally brought him upon one of the policemen, and almost
terminated his flight at the same time. He must have grown
over-confident and careless; suddenly a weapon roared, and a missile
smashed through the brush inches from his face. The shot had come from
his left and a little to the rear. Whirling, he blasted four times, in
rapid succession, then turned and fled for a few yards, dropping and
crawling behind a rock. When he looked back, he could see wisps of smoke
rising from the shattered trees and bushes which had absorbed the
energy-output of his weapon, and he caught a faint odor of burned flesh.
One of his pursuers, at least, would pursue him no longer.
He slipped away, down into the tangle of ravines and hollows in which he
had wandered the day before his arrival at the farm. For the time being,
he felt safe, and finally confident that he was not being pursued, he
stopped to rest. The place where he stopped seemed familiar, and he
looked about. In a moment, he recognized the little stream, the pool
where he had bathed his feet, the clump of seedling pines under which he
had slept. He even found the silver-foil wrapping from the food
concentrate capsule.
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