"I'll be back in a minute and fix up that shoulder," I said.
"You'll be walking to your death," he said. "They've been trailing us for days, hoping we'd stumble on something. They must have seen me pick up that mirror."
"They trailed us because they thought we looked experienced, rugged," I said. "They thought we were following a map. They just haven't got what it takes to go prospecting for themselves. They're hyenas of the desert, Steve."
"All right—hyenas. That means they won't respect a white flag. If you walk out with your hands raised they'll burn you down before you've taken five steps."
I steadied my helmet and unloosed my collar so that I wouldn't feel cramped.
"Don't worry, Steve," I said.
I knew they saw me the instant I stepped out from behind the wall.
The silence was ominous, and I could feel their eyes upon me, hot and deadly.
I didn't raise my hands. It didn't seem quite right to let them think I was seeking a truce. A man may be a fool to play fair with killers, but something made me change my mind about raising my hands.
I'd give them their chance—ten seconds. I wouldn't try to bargain for those ten seconds by walking toward them under false colors. I'd just trust to luck and—