"Well," asked Karsten. "Shall we flip a coin?"
"Why not?" said Thurman. He reached in his pocket. "Call it," he said.
"Heads," Karsten answered. Thomas Thurman tossed the coin high into the air. Its silver sides caught brightly at the sunlight as it mounted in a smooth arc, then danced back to earth. The two men leaned over to inspect it.
"Heads it is," Karsten said, grinning. "I win."
"This is your day, I guess," Thurman told him.
Karsten moved forward to the clump of bushes, Thurman following close behind. They could see the quarry clearly now, the whiteness of his body in bold contrast with the thick red stripes.
"He has gray hair," Thurman said.
The criminal inched back along the rocky wall, seeking desperately for some exit. He tried to climb up the side of the cliff, but could do no more than to stir up a small shower of loose stones as he lost his footing. Suddenly he picked up a rock, twirled, and threw it at the hunters. It scarcely covered a third of the ground between them.
"Well, I like that," said Karsten. "He's got his nerve." He raised his rifle to his shoulder and looked carefully through the telescopic sight. For several moments he held his stance. Then slowly he lowered the gun back to his side.