Kermit’s next wild shot missed again, and Leon saw the dust fly between the rhino’s front feet. Kermit fired once more, and Leon heard this shot tell on the baggy grey hide. The bull bucked in agony and tossed his horn high, then lowered it to gore the horse as they came together.
But Kermit was too quick for him. With the skill of an expert polo player, he used his knees to turn his horse across the line of the charge. Horse and rhino passed each other in opposite directions, and although the latter hooked at Kermit with his long horn, the point flashed a hand’s breadth past his knee. At the same time Kermit leaned out from the saddle and fired with the muzzle almost touching the grey hide between the bull’s plunging shoulders. As the rhino received the bullet he hunched his shoulders and bucked. He swung around to chase after the horse, but now his gait was short and hampered. Bloody froth dribbled from his open mouth. Kermit reined in his horse while he reloaded his rifle, then fired twice more. When the rhino took these last bullets his body convulsed and he slowed to a walk. The great head hung low, and he staggered unevenly from side to side.
Coming up at a gallop, Leon was appalled by the brutal display. It ran contrary to every concept he had of the fair chase and the humane kill. Up to this moment he had been unable to intervene in the butchery for fear of hitting Kermit or his mount, but now his field of fire was clear. The wounded rhino was less than thirty paces away, and Kermit was well out on the flank reloading his rifle. Leon dragged his horse back on its haunches and it skidded to a halt. He kicked his feet out of the stirrups and sprang to the ground, bringing up the Holland as he landed. He aimed for the point where the rhino’s spine joined the skull, and his bullet cleaved the vertebrae like the blade of an executioner’s axe.
Kermit rode up to the carcass and dismounted. His face was flushed and his eyes sparkled. ‘Thanks for your help, pardner.’ He laughed. ‘By God! That was really exciting! How did you like the Wild West style of hunting? Grand, isn’t it?’ He showed not the least guilt or remorse for what had just happened.
Leon had to take a breath to keep his temper. ‘It was wild, I’ll give you that. I am not so sure about the grand bit,’ he said, his voice level. ‘I dropped my hat.’ He swung up into his saddle and rode back for it.
What do I do now? he wondered. Do I have a showdown with him? Do I tell him to find himself another hunter? He saw the hat on the ground ahead, rode up to it and dismounted. He picked it up and dusted it against his leg. Then he jammed it on his head. Be sensible, Courtney! If you walk away, you’re finished. You might as well go back to Egypt and take the job with your father.
He mounted up and rode slowly back to where Kermit stood beside the dead rhino, stroking the long black horn. He looked up at Leon as he dismounted, his expression thoughtful. ‘Something bothering you?’ he asked quietly.
‘I was worrying about how the President’s going to feel when he sees that horn. It must be damn nigh five feet long. I hope he won’t turn bright green.’ Leon succeeded in keeping his smile natural. He knew those words were a perfect peace-offering.
Kermit relaxed visibly. ‘That colour might suit him well enough. I can’t wait to show it to him.’
Leon glanced up at the sun. ‘It’s late. We won’t be able to get back to the main camp this evening. We’ll stay here tonight.’
Ishmael had been following them on one mule and leading another, which carried the cooking pots and other necessities. As soon as he came up he set about putting together a rudimentary fly camp.
Before it was fully dark he brought their dinner to them. They leaned back against their saddles with the enamel plates balanced on their laps and tucked into the yellow rice and Tommy buck stew.
‘Ishmael’s a magician,’ Kermit said, his mouth full. ‘I’ve had worse grub at restaurants in New York City. Tell him that, will you?’
Ishmael acknowledged the compliment gravely.
Leon scraped his plate clean and put the last spoonful into his mouth. Still chewing, he reached into his saddle bag and brought out a bottle. He showed the label to Kermit. ‘Bunnahabhain single malt whisky.’ Kermit smiled happily. ‘Where on earth did you find that?’
‘Compliments of Percy. Although he’s unaware of his own generosity.’
‘My God, Courtney, it’s you who’s the real magician.’
Leon poured a dram into their enamel mugs, and they sipped, sighing with pleasure.
‘Let’s suppose for the moment that I am your fairy godmother,’ Leon suggested, ‘and that I can grant you any wish. What would it be?’
‘Apart from a beautiful and willing girl?’
‘Apart from that.’
They both chuckled, and Kermit pondered for only a few seconds. ‘How big was that elephant my father got a few days ago?’
‘Ninety-four and ninety-eight. Didn’t quite make the magic number of one hundred.’
‘I want to do better.’
‘You worry a lot about doing better than him. Is this meant to be a competition?’
