They weren’t too far from the treehouse when Roxton froze in his tracks. Veronica and Malone responded immediately, doing the same. The Count took a couple more steps but stopped in response to Veronica’s outstretched hand and a finger to her lips signaling him to silence.

Roxton nodded to the brush on the side of the trail. The four slipped into the bushes and waited. The two explorers pulled out pistols, ready to act. A couple of men were furtively walking down the trail. They wore loose trousers, billowing tunics that were tied with colorful sashes that contrasted with the pale colors of their tunics and trousers. Before they reached the explorers’ position they turned onto a path perpendicular to the trail the explorers were using. A path that would take them away from the treehouse, Roxton noted, relieved. After a long wait, Roxton and Veronica silently conferred with a look and a nod; the four left their hiding place.

“Very good, Lord Roxton. That was most impressive.” Count Bocskai eyed the hunter in a new light. Apparently his new-found companions’ words were not completely based on partiality. The English nobleman was indeed a skilled outdoorsman.

Roxton’s lips curved slightly in acknowledgement of the Count’s words, but he was more concerned about the men they’d seen. “Were those two part of the group the Zanga told you about?”

“They match the description.” Veronica was leading the way down the trail as Ned nodded his agreement.

“They’re dressed like the pair I saw, yesterday,” Roxton confirmed.

The pace set by Veronica wasn’t very slow, but it was periodically interrupted as she stopped to collect plants for the two scientists. They had some specific requirements and occasionally she’d notice a specimen that she thought they’d like.

The explorers were about an hour and a half out when Roxton again motioned everyone to be quiet.

“Raptors?” Malone asked softly.

Roxton shook his head and smiled. “Dinner.” His trained eye had picked out his quarry through the tangle of branches and leaves. Carefully raising his rifle he took aim at bird a good two hundred paces away, the branch some thirty feet up. Before he could shoot the bird took off. Leading it slightly, he took the bird down in flight.

“That was incredible!” Only the Count was surprised by the shot. After more than three years on the plateau, Veronica and Malone were accustomed to Roxton’s skill.

“Another addition to the menu. I wonder what Summerlee will come up with for this,” Malone said, in way of acknowledging the hunter’s skill. He went ahead to pick up their prize.

“But this is so impressive. From such a distance, amid all those trees and a moving target, besides.” Sándor turned to Veronica. “Have you ever seen the like of a shot like that?”

“Actually, I thought it was high and to the left. Not up to your usual standards, Roxton.” Stretching to ease her muscles, Veronica turned and teased the hunter.

Roxton grinned. “Did Marguerite give you instructions to be sure and deflate my ego?” He took the game bird from Malone and stepping away from the trail, split the neck of the bird and bled the carcass. He removed the undigested food at the same time.

The attitudes of Veronica and Malone towards the feat of this English lord made even more of an impression on Sándor. To regard such an accomplishment as commonplace and not even especially noteworthy indicated that he was indeed a man whose skills were to be desired.

“Well at least we haven’t seen any further sign of those Magyars,” Veronica remarked, suppressing a yawn, as Roxton returned with the game.

“Who?” the English nobleman inquired, his attention caught, not sure he heard the word correctly.

“They’re those people that Sándor and the Zanga warned us about. I guess we didn’t mention the name when we told you about them.” The reporter looked at the hunter’s wrinkled brow. “Have you heard of them?”

“May I try one of your weapons?” The Count’s eagerness to test the weapons distracted the hunter from what he was about to say.

Unable to think of a reason why not, Roxton tilted his head in a noncommittal gesture. He offered a pistol to Bocskai. The Count took the gun, and graciously proffered his hand to Roxton to shake. “I am anxious to gain some of your remarkable skill, Lord Roxton.”

Roxton gave a slight smile of appreciation of the compliment as his hand was firmly gripped by the Count.

Sándor turned and pointed to a tree about seventy-five paces away. “The crooked branch.” Without hesitation he brought up the pistol and fired. Bark from the slendar target flew in all directions.

“Wow!” Ned looked in amazement.

“That’s incredible, Sándor.” Veronica’s admiration shone from her to see him demonstrate yet another ability. He smiled and inclined his head in appreciation of her words.

“I couldn’t have done better,” Roxton granted. He felt obliged to acknowledge the skill the Count demonstrated. He shook his head to clear it.

“We should do some more hunting.” Sándor was apparently anxious to display his ability, especially since it garnered such a positive reaction from Veronica.

“I’m not sure we need that much more,” Ned pointed out. The Count freezing in place, obviously listening to something else, forestalled any further comment. Roxton and Veronica paused and nodded. Without a word all four melted back into the bushes encroaching on the trail.

The two Magyars they saw previously now furtively drew near the trail. The hidden group suspected that the gunfire had attracted their attention. The Magyars were still some distance away as they saw the damage done by Sándor’s demonstration of his abilities. One man nudged the other and drew his attention to the shattered remains of the tree branch the Count had demolished.

Veronica tapped Ned on the shoulder and held out her hand for his gun. According to the Zanga the raiding parties were looking for a man, so she should be safe. And her companions wouldn’t let her come to any harm no matter what. She could throw the Magyars off their track. “Marguerite would be proud of me.” The stray thought crossed her mind as she straightened her shoulders and willed away the weariness that tugged at her, then stepped out of the concealing brush behind the Magyars.

“What do you want?” Her voice was appropriately cool. The men wheeled around. They noticed the pistol she held.

“You did that?” One of the Magyars pointed to the tree.

“I can do better. Want to see?” Veronica gestured with the gun, an implied threat.

The two Magyars looked at each other and came to a decision. The first one spoke again.

“We will leave you. We wish you no harm. Be warned, your gun will do you no good against the one we seek.”

As Veronica watched, the Magyars retraced their steps. When they were out of sight, the others joined her.

“Let’s head back.” Roxton was conscious of the edges of fatigue. A thought worried him. “I can’t be coming down with whatever Marguerite and Challenger had. Not after all this time.” No matter what was causing it, he felt the best thing would be to be back at the treehouse.

Veronica readily agreed. “Maybe, I’ll take Sándor to the pond. A little relaxation after the tension of these past days would be good. And a dip in the pond will restore my energy.”

The return trip home was uneventful except when Sándor drew them to a halt. Eyes flickering, he unerringly dispatched another bird. “We will have a proper feast tonight,” he announced as he, too, field dressed his kill.