Cry Wolf

hair off his forehead.

"I know one gentleman who won't be here when they come.

"Make that two, "Jake agreed.

"That's it, old son. We've done our bit. Old Lij Mikhael can't grouse

about a couple of minutes. It will be as close to noon as pleasure is

to sin."

"What about these poor devils?" Jake indicated the few hundreds of

Harari who crouched with them behind the wall of rock all that remained

of Ras Golam's army.

"As soon as we hear the bombers coming, they can beat it. Off into the

mountains like a pack of long dogs-" after a bitch, "Jake finished for

him, and gri

"Precisely."

"Someone will have to explain it to them."

"I'll go and fetch young Sara to tell them," and he crawled away, using

the wall as cover from the Italian snipers who had taken up position in

the cliffs above them.

Priscilla the Pig was parked five hundred yards back in a grassy

wrinkle of ground, under a screen of cedar trees, beside the road.

Gareth saw immediately that Vicky had recovered from the state of

collapse in which they had found her, although she was haggard and

pale, and the torn rags of her clothing were filthy, stained with dried

blood from the long flesh wound between her breasts. She was helping

Sara with the boy who lay on the floorboards of the cabin, and she

looked up with an expression which told of regained strength and

determination.

"How is he doing? "Gareth asked, leaning forward through the open rear

doors. The boy had been hit twice and been carried back from the

killing-ground of the gorge by two of his loyal tribes men.

"He will be all right, I think," said Vicky, and Gregorius opened his

eyes and whispered, "Yes, I'll be all right."

"Well, that's more than you deserve," grunted Gareth. "I left you in

charge not leading the charge."

"Major Swales." Sara looked up fiercely, protective as a mother. "It

was the bravest-"

"Spare me from brave and honest men,"

Gareth drawled.

"Cause of all the trouble in the world." And before Sara could flash

at him again he went on, "Come along with me, my dear. Need you to do

a bit of translating." Reluctantly she left Gregorius and climbed down

out of the car. Vicky followed her, and stood close to Gareth beside

the side of the hull.

"Are you all right? "she asked.

"Never better," he assured her, but now she noticed for the first time

the flush of u

his eyes.

Quickly she reached out and before he could prevent it she took the

hand of his injured arm. It was swollen like a balloon, and it had

turned a sickly greenish purple. She leaned forward to sniff the

filthy stained rags that covered the arm, and she felt her gorge rise

at the sweet stench of putrefaction.

Alarmed, she reached up and touched his cheek.

"Gareth, you are hot as a furnace."

"Passion, old girl. The touch of your lily-white, "Let me look at your

arm, "she demanded.

"Better not." He smiled at her, but she caught the iron in his voice.

"Let sleeping dogs lie, what? Nothing we can do about it until we get

back to civilization."

"Gareth-"

"Then my dear, I will buy you a large bottle of Charlie, and send for

the preacher man."

"Gareth, be serious."

"I am serious." Gareth touched her cheek with the fingers of his good

hand. "That was a proposal of marriage, "he said, and she could feel

the fiery heat of the fever in his finger, tips.

"Oh Gareth! Gareth!"

"By which I take it you mean thanks, but no thanks." She nodded

silently, unable to speak.

"Jake?"he asked, and she nodded again.

"Oh well, you could have done a lot better. Me, for instance,"

and he gri

and poignant. "On the other hand, you could have done a lot worse." He

turned away abruptly to Sara, taking her arm. "Come along, my dear."

Then over his shoulder, "We'll be back as soon as the bombers come.

Get ready to run."

"Where to? "she called after them.

"I don't know," he gri

place." Jake heard them first, so far off that it was only the

hive-sound of bees on a drowsy summer's day, and almost immediately it

was gone again, blanketed by the mountains.

"Here they come," he said, and almost immediately, as if in

confirmation, a shell burst under the lee of the rock wall, fired from

the Italian battery a mile down the gorge. The yellow smoke from the

marker poured a thick column into the still sunlit air.

"Move!" shouted Gareth, and placed the silver command whistle between

his lips and blew a series of sharp blasts.

But by the time they had hurried along the wall, making certain that

all the Harari had understood and were ru

into the cedar forests, the drone of approaching engines was growing

louder.

"Let's go!" called Jake urgently, and caught Gareth's good arm.

They turned and ran, pelting back across the open ground to the lip of

the valley, and Jake looked back over his shoulder as they reached

it.

The first gigantic bomber came out of the mouth of the gorge, and the

spread of its black wings seemed to darken the sky. Two bombs fell

from under it; one burst short but the second struck the wall, and the

blast knocked them both off their feet, slamming them savagely against

the earth.

When Jake lifted his head again, he saw through the fumes and smoke the

gaping breach it had blown in the rock wall.

"Well, now the party is definitely over," he said, and hauled

Gareth to his feet.

Where are we going?" shouted Vicky from the cabin below them, and

neither Jake in the driver's seat nor Gareth in the turret replied.

"Can't we just drive up the road to Dessie?" Sara demanded; she sat

cross-legged on the floor of the cabin with Gregorius's head cushioned

on her lap. "We could fight our way through those cowardly

Gallas."

"We've got enough gas to take us about another five miles."

"Our best bet is to drive to the foot of Ambo Sacal." Gareth pointed

to the towering bulk of the mountain that rose sheer into the southern

sky. "Ditch the car there and try and make it on foot across the

mountains." Vicky crawled up into the turret beside him, and thrust

her head out of the hatch. Together they stared up at the sheer sides

of the Ambo.

"What about Gregorius?"she asked.

"We'll have to carry him."

"We'll never make it. The mountains are crawling with Gallas."

"Have you got a better idea?" Gareth asked,

and she looked despairingly around her.

Priscilla the Pig was the only thing that moved in the whole valley.

The Harari had vanished into the rocky ground on the slopes of the

mountains, and behind them the Italian tanks had not yet come in over

the lip of the valley.

She lifted her eyes to the sky again, where only a few wreaths of cloud

still clung to the peaks, and suddenly her whole mood changed.