"Didn't trust me?" Mulveen asked.
"Should I have?"
"Up to this minute, sure. But if your answer is yes, stop trusting me about anything. Because then you're on your own."
"For how long?" Gilbert asked. "A day?"
"Day, hell. Till I get you—or you get me."
"And you'll have the beaters, the boys?"
"I paid for them, didn't I?"
Gilbert nodded. The night beckoned. He took his rifle and left camp. Mulveen wrote the agreement.
He had not gone very far until he realized he was being followed. Already? he thought. He slipped silently off the trail and waited in the hot, sweat-producing darkness. Footsteps came along the trail. Gilbert saw a shadowy figure. Too small for Mulveen.