Slaughter straightened, walking toward them, Lucas and Dunlap following. "You've got some passengers," he told the two men, who swung in surprise.

Slaughter recognized the pilot. The other man he didn't know, but they were rigid, and he wondered if they'd heard about his jail break.

"Who's that? Slaughter? Hell, you scared me."

"We'll be going with you in the chopper."

"There's not enough room."

"Then we'll leave this other guy behind."

"And what about the rest of you?"

"They're coming with me."

"Sorry. I can't do that. One man with me isn't any problem. I took two men with me yesterday." The pilot shook his head. 'Three men with me, and I guarantee we'd never make it. This thing wasn't built for that much weight."

"We'll have to try it anyhow," Slaughter said.

"That's impossible."

Slaughter pointed toward the western mountains. "You don't understand the trouble up there."

"Maybe. But there'll be even more trouble if we all try to go up in this thing."

"We'll have to chance it."

"Without me to fly you. Choose less men or none of us gets off the ground."

They scowled at each other. Slaughter turned toward Lucas and Dunlap. Which man could he choose? He really needed both of them, and more important, neither of them would agree to be left behind.

"I can't do that," he said, and his first mistake had been to think that they knew nothing about how he'd broken out of jail, his second had been to turn toward Lucas and Dunlap. Because suddenly he felt the pilot's arms around him, grabbing for the rifle. At the same time, Lucas was struggling with the pilot's companion. Dunlap faltered, blinking.

"Well, if you boys planned to have a dance, I would have bought some tickets," someone said, and everybody stopped then, pivoting toward the shed as a policeman stepped into view. He had his handgun drawn, and Slaughter didn't know if this was help or more trouble as he recognized Hammel, the new man on the force whom he'd disciplined when they had looked at Clifford's body on Friday.

"Now then, everybody step clear of each other. Keep those rifles down."

They didn't move.

"I mean it." Hammel walked sternly forward, and they parted.

"You two." Hammel pointed toward the pilot and his friend. "Step over to the left there. Don't you know enough to stay away from men holding rifles? In particular our fine police chief here. He might get angry and shoot your toe off. My God," Hammel asked the pilot, "what did you think you'd accomplish by trying to capture Slaughter? Did you think the town would make you a hero?"

"I don't care about his jail break. I don't even know why he was arrested. I just don't intend to go up with three other men in that helicopter."

"Well, you're honest. That's a credit." Hammel smiled and waved his handgun. "Okay, clear out. You're no use to us."

"But-"

"Hey, I'm giving you a break. Clear out. Don't try my patience."

Slowly they moved toward the shed, and then they started running.

"'No use to 'us' you told him?" Slaughter asked.

"That's right. Let's keep this in the family. When Rettig told me what had happened, we sat down to figure "where you might turn up."

"I must be obvious as hell."

"Well, a few of us aren't quite as stupid as you think we are."

"You call it smart to chase off my pilot?"

"We don't need him. Rettig told me to keep a watch on you, to use my judgment."

"And your judgment-"

"-says I'm going with you. Do you remember when we found Clifford's body? I said something about what had killed him being obvious. You called me on that. Oh, not much. Enough, though. Hell, you made me feel like an idiot. And it turned out you were right. So, fine. But now it's my turn. I can do a few things you'd give anything to do. I'm going to fly your helicopter for you."

Slaughter thought back to the file he kept on every man.

"I see that it's coming back to you," Hammel said. "I spent three years in the Air Force. My specialty was choppers. And I was damned good. Just this once you're going to shut your mouth and watch somebody else who's good at what he does, and when I'm finished, you had damned well better step up, face me straight on, and say, 'Thank you.'"

"More than that, I'll say I'm sorry for the other day."

"It's too late for that, Slaughter. Shove your friends inside. Let's get this party started."

Slaughter touched his beard stubble. "There's only one thing."

"What is it?"

"If we crash, I'll say we should have kept that other guy to fly us."

Hammel started laughing.

THREE

"You can see that something happened here." Parsons and his group looked at the barricade.

"The question, though, is what."

There weren't any bodies, but they saw the blood, the state police hats, the ripped discarded knapsacks, the empty bullet casings.

"So there really was a fight up here. That wasn't thunder we heard."

"It wasn't thunder. No, it wasn't thunder."

They walked around the barricade. Several of them glanced nervously toward the forest.

"I don't like this."

"Why? You think those hippies would be stupid enough to attack this many men?"

"We don't know anything about them."

"We know that they've likely killed more people."

"I don't mind admitting I'm scared."

"So what? You think we ought to go back for more help? You think that we don't have enough already?"

"I can't tell you what I think."

"Let's leave it that way. Altick is in trouble. That's all anybody has to know."

"Or was in trouble."

"It's the same. We're here to put a stop to them. If Altick still needs help, we're here to give it. If he's long past help, we're here to make them pay for that."

The odd part was that Parsons didn't have to say a word. The group had formed a common personality, and for a time as they had driven up the loggers' roads, he had been satisfied that he would not be blamed if things went wrong. But as they drove higher, he had gradually felt uneasy up here, and when at last they'd left the Jeeps and trucks to continue on foot, he started feeling scared. For one thing, he had never liked the mountains. Oh, he'd gone up hunting with his friends, but that was part of his position. Hunting was expected from him. But he'd never really liked it or the wilderness up here. His best surroundings were his office and the town-council chambers. These men were at home up here, however, and for several hours they had grown in strength as his diminished. They had used terrain maps, plotting which direction was the best way to the base of the escarpment. They had hiked up past the lake where Altick's men had disappeared. They'd traveled Sunday afternoon and evening, then today through Monday morning. All told, they'd been ten hours on the move now, mostly in the trucks and Jeeps. Considering how poor the loggers' roads were and how hard it was to hike up through these mountains, sixty miles was some achievement, although they had another fifteen yet to go.

The things behind them traveled only in the night, so they would not catch up until tomorrow at midnight if they moved as fast as they were able. In the hills above the group, however, there were many others sleeping, waiting, although of course that information came out only later. In the meanwhile, there was nothing in the forest near the barricade to indicate what finally had happened to the men within the barricade. The sun was high above the forest, and the group was tightening their knapsacks, taking time to eat some beef jerky or to urinate. Then they were moving higher. As one member of the group would later say, it was like climbing toward another country.