Blood Runner by Lou Cameron

Author:Lou Cameron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mens adventure, renegade, panama, western frontier fiction, lou cameron, captain gringo, rurales
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eleven

They could have walked across the isthmus in three or four days on a smooth road. On the map they were moving across a mere green sliver. But the Panamanian jungle looked a lot bigger when one tried to walk a straight line through it. Captain Gringo didn’t spare them by stopping to eat or even rest more than a few minutes at a time. He knew their fear and early strength would carry them farthest the first day, so it was important to make it as far as possible. By this time the next day on the trail they’d be separating the men from the boys as legs gave out and cuts began to fester. He was hoping the soldiers after them would set a more relaxed albeit steadier pace. His people had no hope of outdistancing legged-up infantry on a day-after-day basis. With a lot of luck they might manage to give the Army too much jungle to search, if they could get enough of it between them.

The refugees had brought little besides their guns and personal belongings. A few had thought to bring a little food. He didn’t attempt to ration it. It was enough that they shared what they had as they walked, and by noon it was all gone. It was doing them more good inside of them than out and offered one less thing to fight over when it started getting tougher. He knew an adult in a humid climate can go a few days without eating before strength begins to fade enough to matter. There was water, too much water, for the taking. The big problem was a mañana matter. They’d start giving out after the second night on the run. Once he really let them rest, muscles would start to knot. He knew the human body felt more tired after a good night’s sleep than during unusual stress.

He told them they were taking a five-minute break every hour. Then he used the old drill sergeant’s trick of marching them an hour and a half and letting them take three minutes. It worked the first few times, but as the day wore on they complained more and were harder to get moving again after each break. He’d have never gotten so much out of green recruits who, after all, only faced company punishment for shirking. He owed as much to the Colombian Army as he did West Point. Everyone in the group knew what it would mean if they were caught. So, somehow, everyone kept going.

As the shadows lengthened he figured they’d covered a good thirty miles since that morning. The forest floor was pretty dark under the canopy, now, and the bugs were starting to annoy them. He called a halt in a deep patch of gumbo limbo and said, “We’d better build our smudge fire here. By the time anyone spots our smoke and maps it, it’ll be dark and we won’t be here.”

As most of the party slumped down

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