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the pavement, and rich ferns reached out like parts of a tropical rain forest, while thick underbrush showed that the land was little used. When he reached a fairly long, completely empty stretch of road that was almost straight, he allowed himself the brief luxury of driving on the right-hand side. He drew a deep, comforting breath and lifted his shoulders to ease the muscle strain.
    Without warning, his windshield was suddenly filled by a large object falling directly in front of him. In violent reaction he hit the brakes as something substantial smashed hard on the hood. An instant later, the car went into a severe skid. He spun the wheel in an attempt to recover, sickeningly aware that he had been driving dangerously fast on the slick roadway.
    When the car at last slid to a stop, he took a few seconds to make sure that he was all right. Then, oblivious to the rain, he got out on shaking legs to see what it was he had hit. A gripping cold fear seized every part of his body.
    On the pavement the body of a man was lying face down. His arms were spread wide, his head was turned at a sharp angle, and he lay absolutely still. As Peter bent over him in near panic, he saw that the man’s jaw hung loosely open and that he showed no visible signs of life.

CHAPTER 7

    Crushing guilt hit Peter like a hammer blow. For a few seconds his mind was numbed by the shock; then a dreadful realization of what he had done engulfed him.
    For one shameful moment he considered giving in to his impulse to flee the scene. There were no witnesses, and he could claim total ignorance of the whole thing. Then he thrust that cowardly thought aside and gave his full attention to the man who lay so ominously still on the drenched pavement.
    At first look he was middle-aged, substantially built, and dressed in heavy work clothes. Apparently he had taken no precautions against the rain and was soaked to the skin.
    Peter had had no first aid training of any kind, but he was desperate to do something. He ran to his car, started it up, and backed cautiously until he was close to the scene of the accident. Leaving the left door open, he took hold of the unconscious man under his arms from behind and dragged him the few feet to the car. Because he was an inert dead weight of two hundred pounds or more, Peter had to summon all of his strength to get the injured man up and into position on the left front seat. Breathing hard, he fastened the shoulder harness to hold the victim in position.
    He spent a few more seconds in the streaming rain making sure that nothing had been left on the roadway, then he got behind the wheel. It was a long way back to Franz Josef, and he had seen few facilities there. Greymouth, somewhere ahead, was a city and certainly should have a hospital. His decision made, he put the car into gear and started up carefully on the slippery pavement.
    Knowing that time might be essential, he drove as fast as he dared, keeping himself superalert. His full attention was focused on his driving, but he gave an occasional quick glance at his motionless passenger. He kept hoping that the man would stir, that he would lift his head or show any sign at all of vitality.
    Time lost its meaning for him as he drove, knowing that the road would eventually take him to his destination. Finally, at the outskirt of a town, he spotted a small corner store marked DAIRY. Without hesitation he pulled up against the right-hand curb and got out as quickly as he could, running the few steps to the store.
    A substantial woman behind the counter was sacking some Potatoes for a customer. When she looked up in startled surprise, Peter spoke as rapidly as he could with clarity. “I have a man in my car who was badly hurt on the road. He’s unconscious. Where can I get help?”
    The woman stopped work immediately and came to him. She supplied quick directions to the hospital and then repeated them.
    We’re a small town, so it isn’t far,” she said.
    Peter hesitated for