A man came probing into the head-high bushes from the path side ... stood there a moment looking around, only a vague brown shape through the leaves.
He grunted, went out to the path again, walked on.
Steven and the girl followed him by his sounds, trailing about twenty feet behind, until Steven got a good look at him when he passed an open space between the bushes.
He was a big man in brownish-green clothes—new-looking clothes, not full of holes. He walked almost carelessly, as if he didn't care who heard him.
And Steven saw the reason for that.
Men with guns always walked louder. This man wore a holstered gun at his belt, and carried another one—a long gun something like a rifle, only bulkier.
Steven's lips curled. He darted a look at the girl. Across his mind flashed the vague idea of sharing whatever the man had with her, but he didn't know how to let her know.
She was looking at the guns, eyes wide. Afraid. She shook her head.
Steven snarled silently at her, put a hand on her chest, shoved gently.
She stayed there as he moved on.