Away down the slope, a couple of miles away, several men were advancing, like a row of beaters at a shoot ...
I dropped out of sight behind the sky-line.

That way was shut to me, and I must try the bigger hills to the south beyond the highway.

The car I had noticed was getting nearer, but it was still a long way off with some very steep gradients before it.

I ran hard, crouching low except in the hollows, and as I ran I kept scanning the brow of the hill before me.

Was it imagination, or did I see figures--one, two, perhaps more--moving in a glen beyond the stream?
If you are hemmed in on all sides in a patch of land there is only one chance of escape.