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They
had been for almost six hours in the hollow when Mole felt a strong jolt that brought him out of his sleep. Guide was pushing him by the shoulder with one hand while holding his other hand’s index finger to his lips telling him to keep quiet. This sudden awakening made his heart quicken. He stood watching his companion with eyes wide open while trying to understand what was happening.

Then he obeyed
his sign inviting him to follow as he crawled to the top edge of the depression they were in. When they reached the top they saw that at the lower end of the slope, about half a mile away, two rangers were coming, slowly following their trail riding alpine motorcycles.

“
We are being followed,” said Guide with a whispering voice. “I guess they believe that we are poachers. If they catch us they will realize that we belong to the opposite side; then our lives will be at stake.”

“
What do we do?” asked Mole nervous.

“
Run away immediately. We cannot let them catch us, especially you, or everything we have done will become useless.”

Now
the adrenaline flooding their systems was making them move hurriedly as they raised the camp. It barely took them one minute to be ready to flee.

“
They do not know yet that we are very close, and they must not get to know. We will walk the horses to the thicket. Don’t go into a gallop, they could hear us and start persecution.”

Mole
nodded while gently pressing the heels of his boots on 28’s flanks to make it start behind Guide’s footsteps.

The
ir strategy to slow their pursuers’ pace was to get away from the trails, where the rangers’ motorcycles could move easily, and walk over the uneven terrain covered by the thicket, where horses would be in advantage.

Guide did not
know how many hours could the tracking go on, or how determined to catch them their pursuers could be, but he was aware that as soon as night had fallen the night viewers would bring them a huge advantage, so he was guessing they would only have to endure until then to make them abandon the chase.

Progress through the rugged terrain
had become painful. At each step they had to separate the branches of the trees that crossed their path. The dense vegetation covering the ground did not let them see the stones and holes that abounded in the area, making the horses to trip once and again.

Every n
ow and then they were making brief stops along the way to try to locate their pursuers, but uselessly. The same vegetation that now was protecting them was restraining their eyesight to a few yards, and the sounds of the forest, rising above any other, were impeding the low noise of the motorcycles to reach them.

After two hours withstanding the
roughness of the thicket they finally came out into the open. The long valley that stretched ahead was promising a less strenuous ride. Mole was relieved at the prospect of moving in a more relaxed way, but Guide took care of his hope to get some rest. As his horse stepped on a flat surface he forced it into hasty gallop while shouting:

“
We must increase our lead! Don’t slow your pace!”

Their mad race
would go for over ten minutes, until reaching the far end of the plain, where weeds and slope would became the rule once more.

Guide
went a few yards into the vegetation and dismounted for a moment, sweaty and agitated. His companion did the same while trying to recover from the strenuous exercise.

“It seems that we are not be
ing followed anymore,” Guide said finally. Probably they gave up the chase when we went into the thicket, but we must not lower our guard.

“
What to do then?”

“We will
assume that we are still being chased. Our strategy will not change.”

“
But night is falling. This will complicate things.”

“
We must not become confident.”

“Let’s a
t least take a break. The horses are exhausted and so am I.”

“15
minutes,” was his laconic reply.

They t
ook the opportunity to have the rations that their earlier hasty departure had made them skip. Then they watered the horses.

During this time they
did not stop watching the opposite end of the valley, looking for the headlights of their pursuers’ motorcycles that by this time should already be on, but nothing.

“
It seems they let us go.”

“I
hope so,” said Mole.

“Let’s move. There is no time to loose
. This new route will delay us.”

The faint light of dawn let see the two riders who had slowed their pace and come back to the trail four hours before, confident of not being followed anymore. This way the physical stress of their hurried cross-country ride now had eased.

They were crossing
a region regarded as nobody’s zone, precisely in the boundaries of both parties’ territories. They were already looking forward to the end of their risky mission.

They had finally recovered
their calm and now were confident in getting back home safely to rest their troubled muscles, which were on the verge of exhaustion. Once relieved from the threat of being pursued, they were chatting once more as the horses kept along the path by themselves.

Suddenly the air was filled with the
uproarious sound from the blades of a huge helicopter approaching.

They turned
to the sky to find that the machine was coming from the territory they had just abandoned, which was a harbinger of trouble. It seemed that the rangers had not given up and now were coming back better equipped to hunt them.

The
agents exchanged glances and without a word started a frantic gallop. They had to reach safe ground as soon as possible.

The ship landed
some 200 yards behind them and opened its back gate, from which two motorcyclists emerged, this time wearing the uniform of the security forces.

Obviously
, the route they had taken had led the rangers to understand that they were not regular poachers but staff moving between the two territories without their permission, suggesting that they either could be defectors or enemy agents. In any case, they had given notice to the Internal Security Central of some corporation and this had decided to catch them at all costs, so they had not hesitated to assign whatever resources were needed to do it.

“Let’s split
!” Guide ordered while pulling the reins to get his horse from smooth terrain.

Mole did the same but
to the opposite side while turning his head to locate the swift pursuers that kept approaching.

The m
otorcyclists split in the same manner, taking each one of them the chase of one of the riders. The rifle hanging on the back of the man behind him made Mole’s nervousness escalate. Firearms were not commonly seen in this ordered world, where people bragged not using them anymore if not for recreational purposes. To feel hunted by gunmen had brought him a panic fit.

“Calm down” he ordered himself, “and
think clearly! You must put as many obstacles as possible between you and this fellow. Go through places he cannot cross riding his bike. Make him swerve to gain time.”

A few yards ahead
he saw a log lying across the entrance to a trail running along a ravine. He headed there at full speed.

“I have n
ever before jumped on horseback. I hope not to kill me trying.”

He slightly reined his mount
, driving it into a light trot as the obstacle was coming closer. Then, when they were just two strides away from it, he strongly spurred it. 28 set off the ground, jumped over the log that was about 30 inches high, and landed cantering on the opposite side.

The rider was relieved
after succeeding in this small feat. He had seen others do it before, but never had tried and did not know if his horse was trained to do it. He knew he had been lucky.

He turned back again.
His chaser had been forced to stop and now was veering to find a parallel path along one of the slopes that formed this canyon.

Soon
he saw that the motorcyclist had managed to get even with him, but 50 yards to his left and halfway up the mountain. He had to avoid at all costs that he passed him or he would surely ambush him.

Suddenly
he found out that the ravine forked ahead, giving him the opportunity to deviate. So he did. He took to his right and continued his crazy race. His chaser stopped at once, if only to start the descent of the steep wall skidding his bike sideways until he reach the same level at which he was standing. Now he was closer. He needed to find a way to stop him.

He decided to go up
the opposite side, hoping that the motorcycle had more trouble climbing than it had had going down to the bottom.

Indeed,
this 100 yards ascent gave him a new lead and let him start to gallop behind the mountain. Now he was almost 30 seconds ahead.

28
was puffing constantly. Its snout was covered with white froth. He could not guess how long this kind beast would endure when it had been carrying him already for nearly 14hours, but he was hoping they would make it.

The flat land
came to an end a few hundred yards ahead, changing into a steep slope leading down to a stream that ran plentiful from recent rains.

There was no other way. The bike had reached the summit
already and was approaching dangerously, so he dismounted and led his horse by the reins to the edge of the field, where he stood for a moment trying to decide whether to undertake the dangerous descent.

The memory of that steep descent that left him paralyzed halfway
when fleeing was still fresh in his memory; however, this time he was certain to make it.

Without further
thought he pulled 28 and started guiding it by the rein. Feet and legs were sliding out of control, removing the dry leaves that made the ground even more slippery. Pebbles were coming off to fall tumbling into the water.

They had almost reached the bottom when the man
chasing him, still on his vehicle, leaned out on the upper edge. He stood watching the scene for a moment, assessing his options, and finally decided to get off, gun in hand, ready to stop his prey with a sharp shot.

The sound of the first
shot and the hum of the bullet that passed near his head made him hasten his descent. A new blast and the sound of a second missile hitting the tree right behind him made him think he would not make it.

He reached the bottom and ran pulling firmly
his horse, and then sheltered behind a huge rock on the opposite bank of the river just when a third projectile had impacted on top of the stone to bounce and fly away whistling.

He
took care of hiding his horse from the bullets. Then he leaned out to try to locate the agent of the corporation. He noted that he had got thoughtful for a moment; then he mounted again on his motorcycle and drove away. Mole knew he had not given up yet. He had already proved to be a reckless man, so he was guessing he would try to ambush him later.

As he
became sure that he would not be shot anymore he mounted and started climbing the opposite slope, which was less steep and could be ascended following a diagonal.

Upon reaching the top he
found a short plateau, crowded with low bushes, which ended on a downward slope; a part of the same ground accident that had led him to the farmer’s house on his first trip. He guessed at once that safe territory would be at the end of this descent and an optimistic smile enlightened his stained and sweaty face.

He goaded 28
to go across the bushes, watching for any sign of his persecutor while he was savoring in advance the relief of meeting his goal.

When he got to the end of
the leveled ground he was surprised by the view of an immense valley dotted with farms and cultivated fields, a sign that he was a few steps away from success. He paused for a moment.

But t
he sound of dry leaves breaking under the wheels of the skidding alpine bike brought him out of his rapture. It was just a hundred yards away and coming fast. He did not have to think it to launch into a downhill ride, hasty and dangerous, that would demand his horse a renewed effort. He had to beat his pursuer once more.

The
path was long and steep, and the motorcyclist was skillfully descending it, taking diagonal cuts that kicked up large amounts of soil and coming near after every second.

Now he
could feel him just a few feet away. He realized that he was about to fall into his hands and he still was half way to reach the valley.

“
This is the end,” he thought, “only a stroke of luck can save me.”

The sound of the rotor of a helicopter
coming from ahead was heard. He thought it was the same ship that had dropped his pursuer, who had now joined the hunt. He looked up to find it; then he noticed that it was still in the air, just above his head. He felt lost. There was no way out of this situation.