We try to
outwit them, but it takes only one slip to make it fatal. In the
meantime, I think we'd better make this place a little more snug, and it
might be well to post sentries as unobtrusively as possible."
"How about faking some signs of a ruined camp and heading into the blue
ourselves?" McNeil asked. "We could strike for the ghost mountains,
traveling by night, and Ulffa's crowd would think we were finished off."
"An idea to keep in mind. The point against it would be the missing
bodies. It seems that the tribesmen who raided the Beaker camp left some
very distasteful evidence of what happened to the camp's personnel. And
those we can't produce to cover our trail."
McNeil was not yet convinced. "We might be able to fake something along
that line, too----"
"We may have to fake nothing," Ross cut in softly. He was standing close
to the edge of the clearing where they were building their hut, his hand
on one of the saplings in the palisade they had set up so laboriously
that day.
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