The others had been shadowing him along a parallel course, higher up the slope. They were on rougher terrain and trying to be less obvious than Rufus, so they made slower progress. Rufus dismounted, giving them a chance to catch up, and took his rifle from the soft fabric case he’d strapped alongside the saddle. This was not the Kalashnikov but the long bolt-action number with the scope, the one he’d built for drilling big boars from long range.