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Fly
Shivering briefly in the chill of dawn, he hugged himself and massaged his upper arms while he peered into the shallow water, searching the bottom for the telltale chicken-wire pattern that would mean a crocodile was buried in the mud waiting for him.
His body was porcelain-white where clothing had protected it from the sun, but his arms were chocolate-brown, and a deep vee of the same brown dipped down from his throat onto his chest. Above it the battered red face was creased and puffy with sleep, and his long, greying hair was tangled and matted. He belched thunderously, and grimaced at the taste of old gin and pipe tobacco, then, satisfied that no reptile lay in ambush, he stepped into the water and lowered his massive hams to sit waist-deep. Snorting, he scooped water with his cupped hands over his head, then lumbered out onto the bank again. Sixty seconds is a long time to stay in a river like the Rufiji, for the crocodiles come quickly to the sound of splashing.
Naked, dripping, hair plastered down across his face, Fly
He called up at the camp, "Mohammed, beloved of Allah and son of his prophet, shake your black arse out of the sack and get the coffee brewing." Then as an afterthought, he added, "And put a little gin in it."
Soapsuds filled Fly
He reached for the mug but before his fingers touched it, there was a fusillade of gun-fire above them and a bullet hit Fly
Lying stu
Mohammed was coming to him anxiously.
"Run," granted Fly
"Lord..
"Get out of here." Savagely Fly
A second longer Mohammed hesitated, then he ducked and scampered into the reeds.
"Find Fini," roared a bull voice in German. "Find the white man."
Fly
"Where is he? Find him!" raged the voice, and suddenly the grass on the bank burst open and Fly
For the first time they confronted each other. These two who had played murderous hide-and-seek for three long years across ten thousand square miles of bush.
"Ja!" Fleischer's jubilant bellow as he swung and sighted the pistol at the man in the water below him. "This time!"
aiming carefully, steadying the Luger with both hands.
The brittle snapping sound of the shot, and the slap of the bullet into the water a foot from Fly
Filling his lungs, Fly
"There he is!" as Fly
"Shoot straightr!" Howling in frustration and blazing wildly with the Luger, Fleischer watched the head disappear and Fly
Stupid black pig dogs!" And he swung the empty pistol against the nearest head, knocking the man to his knees.
Intent on avoiding the flailing pistol, none of them were ready when Fly
"Come on! Chase him!" Herding his Askari ahead of him, Fleischer trotted along the bank in pursuit. Twenty yards of good going, then they came to the first swamp hole and waded through it to be confronted by a solid barrier of elephant grass. They plunged into it and were swallowed so they no longer had sight of the river.
"Schnell! Schnell! He'll get away," gasped Fleischer and the thick stems wrapped his ankles so that he fell headlong in the mud. Two of his Askari dragged him up and they staggered on until the thicket of tall grass ended, and they stood on the elbow of the river bend with a clear view a thousand yards downstream.
Disturbed by the gun-fire, the birds were up, milling in confused flight above the reed-beds. Their alarm cries blended into a harsh chorus that spoiled the peace of the brooding dawn. They were the only living things in sight.
From bank to far bank, the curved expanse of water was broken only by a few floating islands of papyrus grass; rafts of matted vegetation cut loose by the current and floating unhurriedly down towards the sea.