"Weapons?" West did not seem to understand the term. "We have none."
"What?" Zen said. Hadn't West understood him. Every farmer, every rancher, and every householder had his stock of weapons. Almost all people went armed. "No rifles?"
"No."
"Not even tear gas?"
"No, colonel."
"Then how in the hell did you expect to stay alive?" Zen burst out. "You surely knew they would find you sometime."
"Staying alive is actually not as important as you think. Yes, son." West bent again to listen to the youth's words.
"Good—good—" The whisper was very faint.
West understood. "Goodbye," he said. "We will meet again. But, goodbye for now."
The youth sighed. All pain and all fear went from his face. Peace came to him.