‘Get on with it, then, don’t yatter!’

For a third time, MacConnachie stripped the gun and satisfied himself that it was thoroughly oiled and fully operative. An unreliable gun was, to MacConnachie, the equivalent of a missing limb. He emptied the magazine and refilled it.

‘Twenty-five rounds. I’m setting the gun on single-shot. It’s your job to check it night and morning; see it stays that way.’

‘Right.’

MacConnachie rose.

‘We travel one up, one down, as before. You’re in charge of the canteen and the knife. I carry the gun and the suitcase. We each have one mouthful of water before we start.’

‘Okay.’

‘We eat tonight, and once each dawn and dusk. Water at midday, if we need it, but we’ll try to do without.’

Ansell unscrewed and withdrew the stopper, which was attached to the neck of the canteen by a fine chain. Each man savoured and drank one mouthful of water, then Ansell restoppered the canteen and hung it over his shoulder. They were ready to move. MacConnachie said,

‘Watch for planes. I’m relying on you.’

‘Right.’

MacConnachie estimated the distance to the mountains at seven days’ march. It was here, in the hills, that the greatest danger lay; and here, logically, that the Goons would most like to encounter them.

Coming down from the hills, they should find a valley. MacConnachie believed it would be watered, and therefore inhabited, and it was at that point that he planned to replenish their stores before tackling the mountains.

There was one small danger at their backs: the Goons from whom they had escaped would send a force across the river in pursuit, and thus the rear would always be closed to them. But he believed they could remain permanently ahead of this party and, shutting his mind to further thought, he sent his instinctual scouts to probe the territory before him.

The first plane came without warning. They were just short of the initial crest when there was a whoosh, a flash of shadow, and it was gone, scudding away beyond the ridge. They hadn’t time even to pause in their stride. MacConnachie said,

‘That was chance. They wouldn’t send jets after us. Too fast, too little visibility.’

‘Ignore it, then?’

‘Yes. Keep going.’

Beyond the crest, the ground fell away over half a mile into an area of hillocks, pimples and scrub, rising gradually thereafter for nearly two miles to what appeared to be the main spine of the entire hill range. MacConnachie did not believe it. It simply didn’t tie in with his estimated distance to the mountains. He knew at once that there must be two main spines to the range, both running across their front, and roughly parallel to one another. This meant, in effect, that he and Ansell would have to scale the range twice. It didn’t double the distance, but it doubled the effort. He glanced back at Ansell, then swore softly to himself.

It was when they were down low, in the worst possible position from the point of view of visibility, still pushing their way through the pimples and scrub, that Ansell thought he heard the second plane. He stopped and called, ‘Listen!’