G.C. turned up after breakfast, his beret over one eye, his boy’s face gray and red with dust and his people in the back of the Land Rover as trim and dangerous looking and cheerful as ever.
“Good morning, General,” he said. “Where is your cavalry?”
“Sir,” I said. “They are screening the main body. This is the main body.”
“I suppose the main body is Miss Mary. You haven’t strained yourself thinking this all out have you?”
“You look a little battle fatigued yourself.”
“I’m damned tired actually. But there’s some good news. Our pals in Laitokitok are all going in the bag finally.”
“Any orders, Gin Crazed?”
“Just continue the exercise, General. We’ll drink a cold one and I must see Miss Mary and be off.”
“Did you drive all night?”
“I don’t remember. Will Mary be over soon?”
“I’ll get her.”
“How is she shooting?”
“God knows,” I said piously.
“We’d better have a short code,” G.C. said. “I’ll signal shipment received if they come out the way they should.”
“I’ll send the same if they show up here.”
“If they come this way I imagine I’ll hear of it through channels,” then as the mosquito bar opened, “Miss Mary. You’re looking very lovely.”
“My,” she said. “I love Chungo. It’s absolutely platonic.”
“Memsahib Miss Mary, I mean.” He bowed over her hand. “Thank you for inspecting the troops. You’re their Honorary Colonel you know. I’m sure they were all most honored. I say, can you ride sidesaddle?”
“Are you drinking too?”
“Yes, Miss Mary,” G.C. said gravely. “And may I add no charges of miscegenation will be preferred for your avowed love for Game Ranger Chungo. The D.C. will never hear of it.”
“You’re both drinking and making fun of me.”
“No,” I said. “We both love you.”
“But you’re drinking though,” Miss Mary said. “What can I make you to drink?”
“A little Tusker with the lovely breakfast,” G.C. said. “Do you agree, General?”
“I’ll go out,” Miss Mary said. “If you want to talk secrets. Or drink beer without being uncomfortable.”
“Honey,” I said, “I know that in the war the people in charge of the war used to tell you everything about it before it happened. But there are many things G.C. doesn’t tell me about. And I am sure there are people who don’t tell G.C. things too long ahead of time. Also when people told you all about everything in the war you weren’t camped in the heart of possibly enemy country. Would you want to be wandering around by yourself knowing projects?”
“Nobody ever lets me wander around by myself and I’m always looked after as though I were helpless and might get lost or hurt. Anyway I’m sick of your speeches and you all playing at mysteries and dangers. You’re just an early morning beer drinker and you get G.C. into bad habits and the discipline of your people is disgraceful. I saw four of your men who had obviously been on a drinking bout all night. They were laughing and joking and still half drunk. Sometimes you’re preposterous.”
There was a heavy cough outside the door of the tent. I went outside and there was the Informer, taller, and more dignified than ever and impressive in his shawl-wrapped, porkpie-hatted drunkenness.
“Brother, your Number One Informer is present,” he said. “May I enter and make my compliments to the Lady Miss Mary and place myself at her feet?”
“Bwana Game is talking with Miss Mary. He’ll be out directly.”
Bwana Game came out of the mess tent and the Informer bowed. G.C.’s usually merry and kind eyes closed like a cat’s and peeled the layer of protective drunkenness from the Informer as you might slice the outer layers from an onion or strip the skin from a plantain.
“What’s the word from town, Informer?” I asked.
“Everyone was surprised that you did not fly down the main street nor show Britain’s might in the air.”
“Spell it ‘mite,’ ” G.C. said.