It was perhaps five minutes later when they tracked their man down and for the first time got a good look at him. They were very close to the outcroppings of a rather steep foothill when they came over a little rise and saw him scarcely a thousand yards in front of them. "There he goes!" cried Karsten. "Into that little pass between those two rocks!" Rapidly they closed in upon the narrow pass. The opening between the big rocks was not much more than ten feet wide. It led like a narrow corridor through the sides of the hill and then opened up beyond into a little canyon. The two hunters paused just on the other side of the pass. "I think he's trapped," said Thurman. "I can't tell for sure, because there are too many bushes in the way. But I think this is a little box canyon, and that this pass is the only way out." William Karsten looked around him. "Seems that way to me," he told his companion. "Let's move on in slowly." They took their time as they walked through the narrow canyon, checking behind each bush and rock as they went. The little valley was only a hundred yards wide but several hundred yards in length. On all sides rose a sheer cliff some fifty feet in height. When they were about two hundred yards from the end of the canyon, they stopped. The cliff walls had narrowed so that there was scarcely a twenty-five yard distance from one side to the other. Only one last row of bushes separated the hunters from their quarry. "I can see him from here," Karsten said. "He's up against the back of the canyon there, trying to hide." "Well, this is it," Thurman said. "It's a pity he's such a small-sized one." "Well," asked Karsten. "Shall we flip a coin?" "Why not?" said Thurman. He reached in his pocket. "Call it," he said. "Heads," Karsten answered. Thomas Thurman tossed the coin high into the air. Its silver sides caught brightly at the sunlight as it mounted in a smooth arc, then danced back to earth. The two men leaned over to inspect it. "Heads it is," Karsten said, grinning. "I win." "This is your day, I guess," Thurman told him. Karsten moved forward to the clump of bushes, Thurman following close behind. They could see the quarry clearly now, the whiteness of his body in bold contrast with the thick red stripes. "He has gray hair," Thurman said. The criminal inched back along the rocky wall, seeking desperately for some exit. He tried to climb up the side of the cliff, but could do no more than to stir up a small shower of loose stones as he lost his footing. Suddenly he picked up a rock, twirled, and threw it at the hunters. It scarcely covered a third of the ground between them. "Well, I like that," said Karsten. "He's got his nerve." He raised his rifle to his shoulder and looked carefully through the telescopic sight. For several moments he held his stance. Then slowly he lowered the gun back to his side. "I'm sorry, Tom," he said. "But I think I'll let you have this one after all."