The Pitfall had been dug for the purpose of trapping a hippopotamus. It was ten feet deep with fannelshoped sides that would tumble one of the huge beasts down into its depth and wedge it securely between the earthen walls. The opening was covered by branches strong enough to carry the weight of a man or a lesser animal, but not that of a hippo. Over these branches the builders had spread the papyrus stems.
However, the pitfall had been built a long time previously and both branches and mat had rotted and weakened. They collapsed under Claudia's weight, and she screamed as she dropped through into the pit beneath, screamed again as she hit the sloping side and bounced off it. The bottom of the pit was covered with a few inches of stagnant water that had seeped into it. Claudia landed awkwardly with one leg twisted up under her and then rolled onto her back in the mud.
The breath had been driven from her lungs and there was a fierce pain in her left knee. For a few minutes she could not respond to the faint shouts she heard from above. She sat up, clutching her injured knee to her chest and gasping wildly to fill her agonized lungs. At last she managed a strangled shout.
"Here! I'm here!"
"Are you all right?" Sean's head appeared above her, peering down anxiously.
"I think so!" she gasped, and tried to stand up, but the pain shot through her knee and she fell back. "My knee," she said.
"Hold on. I'm coming down." Sean's head withdrew. She heard voices, Job and Matatu and her father. Then a coil of nylon rope dropped down toward her, unfurling as it fell. Sean lowered himself swiftly down the rope and dropped the last few feet to land with a splash in the mud beside her.
"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "I guess I've done it again."
"Don't apologize." He grinned. "I'm not conditioned to it. For once it's not your fault. Let's take a look at your leg."
He squatted beside her. "Move your foot. Capital! Can you bend your knee? Splendid! At least no bones broken. That's a relief. Let's get you out of this hole." He tied a loop in the end of the rope, slipped it over her head and shoulders, and settled it under her armpits.
"Okay, Job," he called up. "Take her up. Gently, man, gently."
As soon as they reached ground level, Sean made a more thorough examination of her knee.
He rolled up the leg of her jeans and said, "Shit!"
As a Scout commander he had extensive experience of the type of injury a paratrooper is prone to-broken bones, torn cartilage, sprained ligaments in ankle and knee. Already Claudia's knee was ballooning and the first tinge of bruising colored the smooth tanned skin.
"This might hurt a little," he warned, and manipulated her leg gently.
"Ouch!" she said. "That's damned sore."
"Okay." He nodded. "It's the medial ligament. I don't think you've torn it, it would be more painful if you had. Probably just sprained it."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"Three days," he replied. "You won't be walking on it for at least three days."
He put his arm around her shoulders. "Can you stand up?" he asked. When she nodded, he helped her to her feet. She leaned against him, standing on her good leg.
"Try putting a little weight on it," he said.
immediately she exclaimed with pain. "No, I can't use it."
He stopped, picked her up in his arms as though she were a child, and carried her back to the village. She was surprised by his strength, and although her knee was beginning to throb, she relaxed in his arms. It was a good feeling. Papa had carried her like this when she was a little girl, and she had to resist the urge to lay her head against Sean's shoulder.
When they reached the village, he set her down in the clearing, and Matatu ran to fetch his pack. Her injury had diverted Riccardo's attention from his own troubles, and he came to fuss over his little girl in a way which ordinarily would have annoyed her.
Now she submitted to it, thankful for his revived animation and attention.
Sean strapped the knee with an elastic bandage from his first aid kit and gave her an anti inflammatory tablet to swallow with hot tea.
"That's about all we can do for it," he told her, and sat back.
"Only thing that will fix it is time.
"Why did you say three days?"
"It takes that long. I've seen a hundred knees just like yours, except that they were usually a lot more hairy and not nearly as pretty. "That's a compliment." She raised an eyebrow. "You're getting soft, Colonel."
"Part of the treatment, and of course totally insincere," he assured her with a grin. "The only question now, ducky, is what on earth are we going to do with you?"
"Leave me here," she said promptly.
"Are you out of your mind?" he asked. Riccardo backed him up immediately.
"That's out of the question."
"Look at it this way," she reasoned calmly. "I can't move for three days, by which time your elephant will be long gone, Papa."
She held up her hand to forestall his argument. "We can't go back.
You can't carry me. I can't walk. We would have to sit here anyway."
"We can't leave you alone. Don't be ridiculous."
"No," she agreed. "But you can leave someone to look after me while you go on after Tukutela."