exploring her feelings for him.
Slowly she realized that the two were bound inextricably together.
There was no real depth to her feelings for Gareth Swales, she had been
carried along on a treacherous tide of fatigue and reaction from fear
and horror. The guilt she had experienced was a consequence of this
lack of substance, and she felt suddenly confused and sad.
She lay back beside the long fine length of his body, but now she had
moved slightly, so that they no longer touched.
She knew that after love, all animals are sad, but she thought that
there was more to her feelings than that.
Suddenly, without really knowing why, she thought of Jake Barton and
the depth and cold of her sadness deepened. It was long before she
slept again, but then she slept late and the morning sunlight was
striking through the canvas and outside there was the sound of engines
and many voices.
She sat up hurriedly, still half asleep, clutching the rough blanket to
her breast, confused and owl-eyed, to discover that she was alone upon
the cot and all that remained of the night was the indentation and
warmth of Gareth's body upon the blanket beside her,
and the swollen aching feeling deep within her where he had been.
Then Vicky threw on her clothes hurriedly and, still tying her hair,
went out into the sunlight, she was just in time to witness the arrival
of a sorry procession.
In the lead was Jake's car, Priscilla the Pig. No longer glossy white
and blazoned with the insignia of the International Red Cross,
it was painted instead a sandy tan colour with patches of darker
camouflage in an earthy brown to break up the outline of the big
angular hull and turret.
The thick barrel of -a Vickers machine gun protruded belligerently from
the mounting.
Above the turret fluttered the tri coloured green, yellow and red
pennant of Ethiopia and below that the dark blue field and golden lion
of the Ras's household standard and everything was covered with a thick
coating of fine red dust.
Close behind the Pig, and attached to her by a stout towline, came
Tenastelin - Gregorius's car similarly daubed with dull camouflage
paint and flying the standards of Ethiopia and Ras, and with her gun
ports filled with lethal hardware. However, despite the warlike
trappings, the machine had an air of dejection as it was dragged
ignobly into the camp and from its rear end came a frightful grinding
clatter that brought Gareth Swales hurrying half-dressed from his tent,
with an angry question to shout as Jake's head appeared in the driver's
hatch.
"What the hell happened?" and Jake's face was red and scowling with
outrage.
"That old,--and at a loss for a suitable expletive, he indicated with a
jerk of his thumb the Ras, who sat proudly in the turret of the
crippled car, showing no remorse whatsoever, but beaming fondly and
toothlessly on Gareth.
"Not content with firing off a thousand rounds of Vickers ammunition,
he kicked Gregorius out of the driver's seat and gave us a
demonstration that would have looked good at Indianapolis!"
"Oh my
God!" groaned Gareth.
"How do you do?" shouted the Ras cheerfully, . acknowledging the
applause.
"Why didn't you stop him? "demanded Gareth.
"Stop him! Jesus, have you ever tried to stop a charging rhinoceros! I
chased him halfway to the coast before I caught him-"
"What's the damage?"
"He's stripped the gearbox, and burned out the clutch he may have
thrown a con rod but I haven't gotten up enough courage to look yet."
Jake climbed wearily from the driver's hatch,
raising his dust goggles. Red dust had sifted into the thick mop of
his curls and clung in the stubble of his beard, and the protected skin
around his eyes was pale and naked-looking, giving him an innocent
wide-eyed expression. He began beating the dust out of his trousers
and shirt, still berating the happily grinning Ras.
"The old bastard is as happy as a pig in a mud wallow.
Look at his face. Reconnaissance in force! It was more like a bloody
circus." At that moment, Jake noticed Vicky for the first time,
and the scowl disappeared miraculously, to be replaced by an expression
of such transparent delight that she felt her guilt return swiftly and
deeply, so that it gave her a cold sick feeling in the pit of her
stomach.
"Vicky!" Jake called. "God, I was worried about you!" Vicky was able
to purge a little of the feeling of guilt by busying herself at the
cooking fire, in a fine show of domesticity, and she served the men
with griddle cakes and grilled steaks. the last of the potatoes they
had brought with them and a pan full of the pigeon-sized eggs laid by
the scrawny native fowls. The camp table was set out under the
acacias, in the dappled early-morning sunlight, and as Vicky worked at
the fire, Jake reported the results of the reconnaissance.
" once the Ras had tired of firing the Vickers, shooting up every tree
and rock we passed, and we were just about out of ammunition, we were
able to circle out northwards, keeping the speed down to avoid dust,
and we found a good piece of ground from which to observe the road from
