then said shyly, "Jake, even if the lion was already wounded it's still
the bravest thing I ever heard of. I have often hunted for them, but
never killed one yet." Jake was touched by the boy's admiration. He
laughed roughly and slapped his shoulder.
"I'll leave the next one for you," he promised.
They followed the windings of the River Awash through the savannah
grassland, moving in towards the mountains so that with each hour
travelled the peaks stood higher and clearer into the sky. The ridges
of rock and the deep-forested gorges came into hazy focus, like a wall
across the sky.
Suddenly they intersected the old caravan road, hitting it at a point
where the steep banks of the Awash flattened a little. The ford of the
river had been deeply worn over the ages by the passage of laden beasts
of burden and the men who drove them, so that the many footpaths down
each bank were deep trenches in the red earth, that jinked to avoid any
large boulder or ridge of rock.
The three men worked in the brilliant sunlight and swung shovel and
mattock in a fine mist of red dust that powdered their hair and bodies.
They filled in the uneven ground and deeply worn trenches,
levering the boulders free and letting them roll and bounce down into
the river bed, and slept that night the deathlike sleep of utter
exhaustion that ignored the ache of abused muscle and burst blisters.
Jake had them at work before it was fully light the next morning,
clearing and levelling, shovelling and packing the dry hard-baked
earth, until at last each bank had been shaped into a rough but
passable ramp.
Gareth was to take the first car through and he stood in the turret,
somehow managing to look debonair and sartorially elegant,
under the fine layer of red dust. He grinned at Jake and shouted
dramatically, "Noli il legitimi carborundum," and disappeared into the
steel interior The engine roared and he went bounding and sliding down
the steep ramp of newly turned earth, bounced and jolted across the
black rock bottom and flew at the far bank.
When the wheels spun viciously in the loose red earth, blowing out a
storm of grit and pebbles, Jake and Gregorius were ready to throw their
weight against it and this was just sufficient to keep the vehicle
moving. Slowly it ground its way up the almost vertical climb,
the rear end kicking and yawing under the thrust of the spinning
wheels, until at last it burst out over the top, and Gareth shut down
the power and jumped out laughing.
"Right, now we can tow the other cars up the bank," and he produced a
celebratory cheroot.
"What was that piece of dog Latin you recited just then Jake asked, as
he accepted the cheroot.
"Old family war cry," Gareth explained. "Shouted by the fighting
Swales at Hastings, gin court and in the knocking shops of the
world."
aW hat does it mean?"
"Nob Xegidmi carborundum?" Gareth grinned again as he lit the
cheroots. "It means, "Don't let the bastards grind you down"." One at
a time, they brought the other three cars down into the ravine, and
hitched them up to the vehicle on the far bank. Then with
Vicky driving, Gareth towing, and Jake and Gregorius shoving, they
hauled them up on to the level, sunbaked soil of Ethiopia. It was late
afternoon when at last they fell panting in the long shadow thrown by
Miss Wobbly's chassis, to rest and smoke and drink steaming mugs of
hastily brewed tea. Gregorius told them: "No more obstacles ahead of
us now. It's open ground all the way to the Wells," and then he smiled
at the three of them with white teeth in a smooth honey-coloured
face.
"Welcome to Ethiopia!"
"Quite frankly, old -chap, I'd much prefer to be sitting at Harry's Bar
in the rue Daunou," said Gareth soberly which is exactly what I will be
doing not long after Toffee Sagud presses a purse of gold into my
milk-white hand." Jake stood up suddenly and peered out into the
dancing heat waves that still poured from the hot earth like swirling
liquid. Then he ran quickly across to his own car and leapt up into
the turret, emerging seconds later with his binoculars.
The others stood up uneasily and watched him focus the glasses.
"Rider," said Jake.
"How many? "Gareth demanded.
"Just the one. Coming this way fast. "Gareth moved across to fetch
the Lee-Enfield and work a cartridge into the breech.
They saw him now, galloping through the dizzy heat mirage, so that at
one moment horse and rider seemed to float free of the earth, and then
sink back and swell miraculously, growing to elephantine proportions in
the heat-tortured air. Dust drifted behind the running horse and it
was only at close range that the rider came into crisp focus.
Gregorius let out a bellow like a rutting stag and raced out into the
sunshine to meet the newcomer. In a brilliant display of horsemanship
the rider reined in the big white stallion so abruptly that he plunged
and reared, cutting at the air with his fore hooves
With white robes billowing, he flung himself from the horse, and into
Gregorius's widespread arms.
The two figures joined together rapturously, the stranger suddenly
