Coyotes were the worst, of course, with their damned infrared thermo-sensors. They could spot a runner even when he was in cover. Fortunately they were scarce and getting more so. Bernard had only encountered a coyote twice, deactivating it both times. But he had been lucky. He recalled the story about that city councilman.... An hour later he arrived at the river, a half-mile above the rapids and well away from the water hole. He had seen only one beast in the first three miles of his trek, a giraffe hobbling along in olfactory pursuit of another runner far to the right. Giraffes were mainly a nuisance, though they could kick and trample a man. Bernard had heard of such a thing happening, but it was a rarity. They were too easy to elude. He crossed the river on a log raft he found, which had evidently been rigged to dump him in about halfway across. At least he had got that far on it he told himself, as he struck out for the shore. For one horrible moment he thought he detected a shark upstream, but it was merely the shadow of a large palm leaf. He had a strong and sensible fear of sharks. A mile farther found him crawling over the rocky ground as the growls of panthers reached his acute ears from behind a ridge of brush. If they heard him, they ignored him, perhaps more interested in other quarry. His knees and arms were scraped but not bleeding, and at last he was able to get to his feet to make better time. It was then that he heard the girl's scream. * * * * * No regulation in the rule book discriminated against women becoming runners, but only a few of the millions who worked at offices and plants in the city did so. Also there was nothing in the code about helping other runners. Each was entirely on his own, free to help or be helped, or not helped, if he chose. Bernard would never have called for help for himself. But the sound of the woman's cry appealed to another side of his nature. He changed his direction, but moved with great caution now. Soon he saw her, and froze. She was clad as he, different sector emblem, but the same proudly borne "U-F" on her sweater. Her face and body were young and attractive, but her long dark hair was tangled and wet, and her limbs mud-spattered. She had screamed only once, and now her small lipsticked mouth hung open with terror. Backed against a tree, she gaped in horror, waiting, as three panthers approached from as many directions. Her sonic lay on the ground outside the circle. It was obvious that she was finished if Bernard did not assist her.