Written in 1960.
"He had a new target. Me. I kept running, zig-zagging up the slope. He fired a third time. I fell down and rolled over, crying out hoarsely. I wanted him to think he had hit me, wanted him to leave cover. First it was just a rock, thirty yards from me at the far side of the narrow valley. Then it sprouted a head and shoulders. Prone, I fired twice. The first shot struck sparks off the rock. The second shoved the man back and out of sight like a giant hand. A Magnum .357 packs more muzzle velocity than even a forty-five. When it hits you, it moves you."