Alongside the burning hut's red glow the moon began to rise. If I didn't act fast it would spotlight me but not the gunman hidden on the shadowed side of the camp circle. I was at a further disadvantage because one of the rocks was split in such a way as to make a natural loophole for him to fire through while remaining invisible. From my present position it would be impossible to get a shot at him first. Spurred on by the growing lightness of the rising moon I cast about for an escape route. When I turned cautiously towards The Hill the solution came to me. The moonlight which exposed me where I now crouched could be my salvation. The geological formation of the cliffs, known as holkrans sandsteen, spelled out my line of escape. Meaning literally 'hollowed-out sandstone', this particular type of rock weathers exactly as the name suggests, forming a natural hollow at the base capped by an overhang. Every cliff has in fact its own cave shelter at its base. This now offered me a secure funkhole right under the gunman's eye. Between me and safety, however, lay a few exposed yards.
I hadn't even finished my snap assessment of the situation before an unearthly cry, like a Gaelic death-keen, cascaded down the rocks from The Hill's summit. My finger tightened automatically on the trigger and I guessed that my pursuer's must have done the same. The half-human cry of a starving baboon-in daylight I had caught a glimpse of pathetic and emaciated specimens — was taken up by its companions until it became a general chorus.
I saw it as a further opportunity, and under cover of the noise I cautiously rolled over and over towards the cliff with the rifle hard against me until I was about halfway up an intervening slope. I was ready to change position for the subsequent down-grade leading to the cliff shelter when the baboon cries cut off. I was left sprawled, face downwards, not daring to move, at the point of maximum exposure. I lay still.
I did not spot the whip-like tail and clutching claws until they were within six inches of my face. A four-inch scorpion reached out inquiringly and its pincers caressed my cheek. They felt closer, more inquisitively, and I could not suppress a shiver. The sting whipped to the ready in a tight arc while I held my breath to deaden all movement, for I knew that when it struck I would not be able to resist the agony, which would jerk my head back and the movement would be seen. I tried as the seconds raced by to think how long a man can hold his breath; then there was a thudding flurry of hands and feet over, past and around my prostrate body. Startled chakking exploded and hairy bodies skidded and jumped over me. One opportunist black paw snatched up the poised scorpion. A cloud of dust rose like a smokescreen from the startled baboon troop, whose last members had not paused before I launched myself under its cover and in a moment I was safe in deep shadow under the rocky lip.
I felt safer still after half an hour had passed. But the situation was simply a stalemate: if neither of us gave himself away we could go on until morning when the advantage would be his with a full magazine against my single shot at a time which was all the Mannlicher was capable of. I had to take the initiative somehow and confirm beyond doubt that the gunman was Rankin. It certainly wasn't the guard, to destroy his own hut.
Everything: the apparent carelessness about advertising his presence by making a bonfire of the place; and his emergency loading hard by my own fire, pointed to the fact that he had not seen my comings and goings during the afternoon. Yet, against this was the plain evidence that the hyena at the hut had been shot recently and that whoever had done so could not be far away. Perhaps, on further thought, he had decided that the need to cremate the guard's remains outweighed all other considerations.
Whatever the answer, the fact that I had heard him loading his rifle showed that he had been taken by surprise and meant business. It also added a more dangerous dimension to our contest: it became not merely Rankin (whom I felt sure it was) versus Guy Bowker; but a trigger-happy maniac ready to silence any unknown stranger who came to The Hill. I decided to end the impasse and make for the fig tree's root cage at the mouth of the secret entrance before the moon became much stronger. I was confident I could manage this without being seen. It was a short uphill climb through rubble; and several fissures at the foot of the cliff face would also afford cover. From behind the screen I would have a view of the camp fire.
I blackened my face, arms, clothes and gun with some unpleasant-smelling dust from the shelter floor. My sweat made it stick. I inched upwards towards my objective with long halts in the safe places. keeping the rifle clear of the rocks for fear of a tell-tale clink. The short distance was an eternity: every moment I expected a shot from below. Then I crawled through the lattice-work of roots, some as fine as grass, and peered down on my camp site.
There was no sign of anyone. It all seemed so peacefuclass="underline" the friendly glow with an occasional spurt of typical leadwood sparks, my binoculars hanging from a nicked rock, my drink where I had put it down.
After an hour of tight vigilance a doubt crept into my mind. Had I indeed heard a rifle bolt — might it not have been a rock cracking? A cicada ground out a weary parody of his rain days. In the far distance a jackal complained; it was answered by a short jittery laugh from a hyena which broke off short as if the brute suspected my tense watch. From afar came the distant chuffer of a lion. The red glow of the blaze was gone from the sky and the moon was white.
Suddenly, as if by magic, a figure crouched by the fire, rifle at the ready, bush hat hard down over his eyes. It was so quick I did not see where he came from. As quickly, my rifle barrel was through the screen and my sights were trained on his head. He wasn't looking in my direction, though, but at the signs of my occupation. I could see from the set of his shoulders how tense he was. His back was half-turned, his face obscured. If I had any doubts about his purpose or qualms about gunning down an unsuspecting victim, his next action dispelled them. He took a handful of ash and rubbed it over his rifle barrel, breech, magazine and trigger guard — all the bright metal parts.
More than anything, I wanted to see his face. However, he moved swiftly across to kneel by the gunny-sack which stood out orange-yellow against the ground. He ignored it but his gaze went all round the compass, including the opening through which I had emerged. I watched his left hand, almost of its own independent will, finger the garish coloured mesh, while the wild animal it served kept tight watch. His other hand was curled round the rifle trigger. Those epicene hands were the hands of a craftsman and they frightened me as they touched and explored my things, passing on all there was to know to the spring-taut, unmoving body.
Then he turned towards me, cocking his head as if at some sound, and I had my answer. There was no mistaking Rankin's high forehead and slightly predatory look. The V of my sight stood clear against the middle of his forehead and I held his life in my trigger finger. But I 'dropped my aim past his head, along his back down to his leg. I wanted him winged, able to confess.
I fired.
The old gun exploded in my face.
There was a crash and stunning flash within inches of my eyes and at the same time I was hurled out of the root cage by a blow on the forehead by the back-firing bolt. As I crashed unconscious among the rocks I thought I heard the smack and ricochet of two rapid-fire shots from Rankin. I could not have been out for more than a few minutes; my fogged instincts on rising to consciousness told me that if I wanted to stay alive I must stay absolutely motionless despite the awful waves of nausea and flashes before my eyes. I lay sprawled half-in and half-out of a rocky cleft not more than eighteen inches deep and twice as long as a man. It had an upward incline; my head was downwards. The root cage was about ten feet above and to one side.