“Coming strong,” Dard was forced to admit.
“Which makes the situation very jolly indeed. We could do with less of this blasted moonlight! A few clouds hanging about would help.”
The engine chose that moment to cough again and this time the pickup was delayed longer than before
“Three or four drops more, maybe. Better set her down before we have to pancake. Now where’re a lot of nice dark shadows? Ha—trees! And there’s only one ‘copter behind us—sure?”
“Sure.” Dard verified that point before he answered.
“So, we have to do it the hard way. Here we go, m’lad.”
The ‘copter came down a field away from the road they had followed, landing heavily in a sizable drift. On the other side of a low wall was a clump of trees. And—Dard was pretty sure—he had sighted the outline of a house beyond.
They scrambled out and jumped the wall, struggling out off the soft snow into the grove. From behind came the sound of the other ‘copter. Those in it must have sighted the machine on the ground at once, they were heading unerringly toward it.
“There’s a house that way,” Dard panted as Kimber plowed ahead with the determination of breaking beyond the thin screen of trees.
“Any chance of finding some transportation there?”
“None of the landsmen have surface cars any more. Folley had a double A rating, and Lotta said his application for one was turned down twice. Horses-maybe . . .”
Kimber expelled a snort. “Horses, yet” he addressed the night. “And me not knowing which end of the animal is which!”
“We’d get away faster mounted,” Dard sputtered as he slipped on a piece of iced crust and fell into the spiky embrace of a bush. “They’ll probably put hounds on us-we’re so near to town.
Kimber’s pace slowed. “I’d forgotten those pleasures of civilization” he observed. “Do they use dogs a lot in tracking?”
“Depends on how important the tracked are.”
“And we’re probably number one on their list of public enemies now. Yes, nothing like being worthy of dogs and no meat to throw behind us! All right, let’s descend upon this house and see how many horses or reasonable facsimile of same we can find.”
But when they reached the end of the grove they stopped. Lights showed in three house windows and they reached far enough across the snow-crusted road to reveal a ‘copter there. Kimber laughed without any amusement at all.
“That bird by the machine is waving a rifle.”
“Wait!” Dard caught at the pilot as Kimber started out of fine brush.
Yes, he had been right-there was another ‘copter coming! He felt Kimber tense in his hold.
“If they have any brains at all,” the pilot whispered, “they’ll box us up! We’ve got to get out.”
But Dard held him fast.
“You’re trying for the road,” the boy objected.
“Of course! We daren’t get lost now-and that is our only guide back. Or do you know this country well enough to go skating off into the midst of nowhere?”
Dard kept his hold on the other. “I know something—that this is the only road leading to the mountains, yes. But we can’t take it unless . . .”
He took his hands from Kimber and pulled up the edge of the jacket he wore-the black jacket trimmed in white. With numb fingers he pulled buttons roughly out of holes and stripped off the too large garment. He had been right! The black fabric was completely lined with the same white which made the deep cuffs and the throat-fretting stand-up collar. And the breeches were white, too. With frantic haste he thrust sleeves wrongside out. Kimber watched him until he caught on and a minute later the pilot was reversing his own coat. White against white-if they kept in the ditches-if dogs were not brought-they still had a thin chance of escaping notice. They half fell, half plunged into the ditch beside the road just as a second ‘copter came to earth. Dard counted at least six men fanning out in a circle from it, beginning a stealthy prowl into the grove they had left. Neither of the fugitives waited longer, but, half crouched, scurried along between the dry brush which partly filled the ditch and the ragged hedges walling the fields. The skin between Dard’s shoulder blades crawled as he expected momentarily to feel the deadly impact of a bullet. Tonight death was a closer companion than the pilot whose boots kicked snow into his sweating face.
Some time later they reached the curve of a farm lane and dared to venture out in the open to skim across it. The cold pinched at them now. As warm as the uniform had seemed when they rode in the heated ‘copter cabin, it was little defense against the chill cut of the wind which powdered them with scooped-up puffs of snow. Dard watched the moon anxiously. No clouds to dim that. But clouds meant storm—and they dared not be caught in the open by a storm.
Kimber settled down to a lope which Dard found easy to match. How far they now were from the Cleft he had no way of knowing. And how long was it going to take them to get back? Did Kimber know the trail after they had to turn off the road? He himself might be able to find the path which led from the farm. But where was the farm?
“How far was your farm from that town?”
“About ten miles. But with all this snow—“ Dard’s breath made a white cloud about his head.
“Yes-the snow. And maybe more of it later. Look here, kid, this is the important part. We haven’t too much time-“
“They may wait until morning to trail us. And if they bring dogs—“
“I don’t mean that!” It appeared to Dard that Kimber waved away the idea of pursuit as if that did not matter.
“This is what counts. The course the Voice set for us—I asked before we left how long it was good for. The answer was five days and two hours. Now I figure we have about five days and forty-five minutes. We have to blast off within that time or try a second visit to the Voice. Frankly, I think that would be hopeless.”
“Five days and forty-five minutes,” Dard echoed. “But, even if we have luck all the way it might take two-three days to reach the Cleft. And we haven’t supplies—“
“Let us hope Kordov has kept things moving there,” was Kimber’s only comment. “And waiting here now isn’t add- hag to our time. Come on.”
Twice through the hours which followed they took to cover as ‘copters went over. The machines ranged with an angry intentness in a circle and it hardly seemed possible that the fugitives could escape notice. But maybe it was their white clothing which kept them invisible.
The sun was up when Dard caught at the end of a rime-eaten post projecting from the snow, swinging around to face the track it marked.
“Our farm lane,” he bit off the words with economy as he rocked on his feet. To have made it this far—so soon. The ‘copter must have taken them a good distance from town before it failed.
“Sure it is your place?”
Dard nodded, wasting no breath.
“Hmm.” Kimber studied the unbroken white. “Prints on that are going to show up as well as ink. But no help for it.”
“I wonder. The place was burnt—no supplies to be found there.”
“Got a better suggestion?” Kimber’s face was drawn and gaunt now.
“Folley’s.”
“But I thought—“
“Folley’s dead, He ran the place with three work slaves. His son was tapped as a Peaceman recruit a month ago. Suppose we were to smarten up and just tramp in, Say that our ‘copter broke down in the hills and we walked in to get help—“
Kimber’s eyes snapped alive. “And that does happen to these lame brains often enough. How many might be at the farm?”
“Folley’s second wife, his daughter, the work slaves. I don’t think he got an overseer after his son left.”
“And they’d be only too willing to help Peacemen in distress! But they’ll know you—“
“I’ve never seen Folley’s wife—we didn’t visit. And Lotta—well, she let me go before. But it’s a better chance than trying to get into the mountains from here.”
They tramped on, in the open now. And, at the end of Folley’s lane, they reversed their jackets, shaking off what they could of the snow. They were still disheveled but a ‘copter failure should account for that.
“After all,” Kimber pointed out as they climbed the slight rise to the ugly farmhouse, “Peacemen don’t explain to landsmen. If we ask questions and don’t volunteer much we’ll only be acting in character. It all depends on whether they’ve heard about the chase—“
Smoke arose from the chimney and Dard did not miss the betraying twitch at one of the curtains in a window facing the lane. The arrival was known. Lotta—everything depended now upon Lotta. He shot a glance at Kimber. All the good humor and amusement were wiped from that dark face. This was a tough—very tough muscle-boy, a typical Peaceman who would have no nonsense from a landsman.