man track had been for years, if ever. 

 Around us sighed the mighty pines of 

 the limitless forest. Hundreds of miles 

 away, beyond the barrier of nature, were 

 human hives weary of the noise and strife 

 of their own making. Here, alone in the 

 solitudes, were two human atoms wander- 

 ing on the trail of the hunted, and — the 

 cook and I. 



I sat on my rubber bed in the tent and 

 thought — there was nothing else to do 

 — and was cold, cold from the outside 

 in, and from the inside out. There wasn't 

 a thing alive, not even myself — no one 

 but the cook. 



Outside, I could hear him washing 

 the breakfast tinware, and whistling some 

 kind of a jiggling tune that ran up and 

 down me like a shiver. This went on 

 for an eternity. 



Suddenly it stopped, and I heard the 



