Despite Paul's weight he was able also to keep his rifle ready, because none knew better than he that all the chances favored his meeting with one warrior or more before the curve was made.

But he was instinct with strength both mental and physical, he was the true type of the borderer, the men who faced with sturdy heart the vast dangers of the wilderness, the known and the unknown.

At that moment he was at his highest pitch of courage and skill, alone in the darkness and storm, surrounded by the danger of death and worse, yet ready to risk everything for the sake of the boy with whom he had played.
He heard nothing but the patter of the distant firing, and all around him was the gloom, of a night, dark to intensity.

The rain poured steadily out of a sky that did not contain a single star.

Paul stirred occasionally on his shoulder, as he advanced, swiftly, picking his way through the forest and the undergrowth.