Where else was there another such as he—to run and run, and never tire? To dodge and twist, and speed over rough stones with no pain lancing up through him?
Was it his strength they feared?
"They'll never catch me," he vowed.
Then he went back up the sloping hill to his post at the crest.
The helicar was no longer standing in the road, and the lights of his house had ceased to shine. Only the moon flushed out shadows of the trees, and his silent dwelling.
They are gone, he thought.
The easy victory surprised him, and he wanted to sing for the relief of it. More quickly now than he had run in his prideful ascent of the slope he turned his steps homeward.
At the back door Amelia was waiting. In the night wind her skirt fluttered, and tendrils of blue-black hair whipped back.
"Jim," her lips were black moonlight, and her eyes shone with bright anguish. "Jim. Why did you come back?"
And then, behind her, he saw the armed men in their leather belted uniforms. Before he could retreat their searchbeams impaled him.