its balance and came up at him blindly. Jake swung the boulder down
from on high and, like a cannon ball, it smashed into the back of the
animal's neck, where the sodden mane covered the juncture of skull and
vertebrae, crushing both so that the dreadfully mutilated beast
collapsed and rolled on to its side, half in the water and half on the
black rock ledge.
For long seconds Jake stood over it, panting with exertion and
reaction, then he leaned forward and touched with his fingertip the
long pale lashes that fringed the lion's open staring golden eye.
Already the sheen of the eyeball was clouded by the corrosive liquid.
At Jake's touch there was no blinking reflex, and he knew that the
animal was dead.
He turned to find that Vicky had not obeyed his instruction to run. She
stood frozen where he had left her, naked and vulnerable, so that he
felt his heart shift within him and he went to her quickly.
With a sob she flew into his arms and clung to him with startling
strength. Jake knew that the embrace was the consequence of terror not
affection, but as his own heart-beat slowed and the tingle of the
adrenalin in his blood receded, he thought that he had achieved a solid
advantage. If you save a girl's life, she just has to take you
seriously, he reasoned, and grinned to himself still a little
unsteadily. All his senses were enhanced by the high point of recent
danger. He could smell the perfumed soap and the stink of ammonia. He
could feel with excruciating clarity the slim hard length of the girl's
body pressed to his and the smooth warmth of her skin under his
hands.
"Oh Jake!" she whispered brokenly, and with sudden aching certainty he
knew that in this moment she was his to take, to possess right here on
the black rock bank of the Awash, beside the warm carcass of the
lion.
The knowledge was certain and his hands moved on her body,
receiving instant confirmation her body was quick and responsive, and
her face turned up to his. Her lips trembled and he could feel her
breath upon his mouth.
"What the hell is going on down there?" Gareth's voice rang across the
murky depths of the gorge. He stood at the top of the bank high above
them. He had one of the Lee Enfield bolt-action rifles under his arm
and seemed on the point of coming down to them.
Jake turned Vicky, shielding her with his own big body and slipping off
his moleskin jacket to cover her nakedness.
The jacket reached halfway down her thighs and folded voluminously
around under her armpits. She was still shivering like a kitten in a
snowstorm, and her breathing was broken and thick.
"Don't worry about it," Jake called up at Gareth. "You weren't in time
to help, and you aren't needed now." He groped in his hip pocket and
Produced a large, slightly grubby handkerchief, which Vicky accepted
with a tearful, quivering smile.
"Blow your nose," said Jake. "and get your pants on, before the whole
gang arrives to give you a hand." regorius was so impressed that he
was speechless for several minutes. In Ethiopia there is no act of
ivalour so highly esteemed as the single-handed hunting and killing of
a full-grown adult lion, The warrior who accomplishes this feat wears
the mane thereafter as a badge of his courage and earns the respect of
all. The man who shoots his lion is respected, and the man who kil
with a spear is venerated. - Gregorius had never heard of one killed
with a single rock and a bottle of ammonia.
Gregorius skinned out the carcass with his own hands.
Before he had finished, the black pinioned vultures were sailing in
wide circles overhead. He left the naked pink carcass lying in the
river bed, and carried the wet skin up to the bivouac where Jake was
fretting to continue the trek towards the Wells. He was irreverent in
his disdain of the trophy, and Greg tried to explain it to him.
"You will gain great prestige amongst my people, Jake.
Wherever you go, people will point you out to each other."
"Fine
Greg. That's just fine. Now will you kindly haul arse.
"I will have a war bonnet made for you out of the mane, Greg insisted,
as he strapped the bundle of wet skin to the sponson of Jake's car.
"With the hair combed out, it will look very grand."
"It could only be an improvement on his present hair style," Gareth
observed drily. "I agree it's been a beautiful honeymoon, and Jake is
a splendid lad but like he said, let's move on, before I am violently
ill." As they moved towards their respective cars, Gregorius fell in
beside Jake and quietly showed him the mushroomed copper-jacketed
bullet he had removed from its niche in the pelvic bone of the
carcass.
Jake paused to examine it closely, turning it in the palm of his
hand.
"Nine millimeter, or nine point three," he said. "It's a sporting
calibre not military."
"I doubt if there is a single rifle in
Ethiopia that would fire this bullet," said Greg seriously. "It's a
foreigner's rifle."
"No need to blow the bugle yet," said Jake, and flicked the bullet back
to him. "But we'll bear it in mind." Gregorius almost turned away,
