He swore softly it the sting of salt and wiped it away with the hem of
the linen sharnma. He blinked rapidly, and then lifted the glasses
again and felt his heart jump in his chest and the prickle of rising
hair on the nape of his neck.
The freakish Currents and whirlpools of heated air cleared suddenly,
and the dust cloud that minutes before had seemed remote as the far
shores of the ocean was now so close and crisply outlined against the
pale blue white sky that it filled the lens. Then his heart jumped
again below the rolling spreading cloud he could make out the dark
insect shapes of many swiftly moving vehicles. Suddenly the viscosity
of the air changed again, and the shapes of the approaching column
altered becoming monstrous, looming through the mist of duSt. closer,
every second closer and more menacing.
Jake shouted, and Gareth was beside him in an instant.
"Are you crazy?" he gasped. "They'll overrun us in a minute."
"Get started," Jake snapped. "Get the engines started," and slid down
into the driver's hatch. There was a flurry of sudden frantic movement
around the cars. The engines were cranked into reluctant life, surging
and missing and backfiring as the volatile fuel turned to vapour in the
heat and starved the engines.
The Ras was lifted into the turret of Gareth's car by half a dozen of
his men at arms, and installed behind the Vickers gun. Their job
accomplished, his men were leaving him and hurrying to mount their
ponies when the Ras let out a series of shrieks in Amharic and pointed
at the empty cave of his own mouth, devoid of teeth and big enough to
hibernate a bear.
There was a brief moment of consternation I until the senior and eldest
man at arms produced a large leather covered box from his saddle bag
and hurried with it to kneel humbly on the sponson of the car and
proffer the open box to the Ras. Mollified, the Ras reached into the
box and brought out a magnificent set of porcelain teeth, big and white
and sharp enough to fit in the mouth of a Derby winner, complete with
bright red gums.
With only a short struggle he forced the set into his mouth, and then
snapped them like a brook trout rising to the fly, before peeling back
his lips in a death's head grin.
His followers cooed and exclaimed with admiration, and Gregorius told
Jake proudly, "My grandfather only wears his teeth when he is fighting
or pleasuring a lady," and Jake spared a brief glance from the
advancing Italian army to admire the dazzling dental display.
"Makes him look younger, not a day over ninety, "he gave his opinion,
and revved the engine, carefully manoeuvring the car into a hull-down
position below the bank from where he could keep the Italians under
observation. Gareth brought the other car up alongside and grinned at
him from the open hatch. It was a wicked grin, and Jake realized that
the Englishman was looking forward to the coming clash with
anticipation.
It was no longer necessary to use binoculars. The Italian column was
less than two miles distant, moving swiftly on a course that was
carrying it parallel to the dry river-bed, beyond the curved horns of
the ambush into the open unprotected funnel of flat land between the
mountains.
Another fifteen minutes at this rate of advance and it would have
turned the Ethiopian flank and would be able to drive without
resistance to the mouth of the gorge and Jake knew better than to hope
to be able to reorganize the rabble of cavalry once their formations
were shattered. Instinctively he knew that they would fight like
giants as long as the tide carried them forward, but any retreat would
become a rout, and they would race for the hills like factory workers
at five o'clock. They were accustomed to fighting as individuals,
avoiding set piece battles, but snatching opportunity as it was
offered, swift as hawks, but giving instantly before any determined
thrust by an enemy.
"Come on!" he muttered to himself, pounding his fist against his thigh
impatiently, and with the first stirring of alarm. Unless the bait was
offered within the next few moments. Because they fought as
individuals, each man his own general, and because the art of ambush
and entrapment came as naturally to the Ethiopian as the feel of a
rifle in his hand, Jake need not have fretted.
Seeming to rise from the flat scorched earth under the wheels of the
leading Italian vehicles, a small galloping knot of horsemen flitted
across the heat-tortured earth, seeming to float above it like a flock
of dark birds. Their shapes wavering and indistinct, wrapped in pale
streamers of dust, they cut back obliquely across the Italian line of
march, running hard for the centre of the hidden Ethiopian line.
Almost instantly a single vehicle detached itself from the head of the
column and headed on a converging course with the flying horsemen.
Its speed was frightening, and it closed so swiftly that the squadron
of cavalry was forced to veer away, forced to edge out towards where
the two armoured cars were hidden.
Behind the single speeding vehicle the Italian column lost its rigid
