eyes, and he felt the force and ferocity of the river abating. He
squinted up into bright sunlight, and then looked back and saw that he
had passed out below the archway of pink rock into that familiar part of
the river which he had explored with Royan. Coming up ahead of him was
the rope suspension bridge, and he had just sufficient strength
remaining to paddle feebly towards the small beach of white sand below
it.
One of the hairy tattered ropes dangled to the surface of the water, and
he managed to catch hold of it as he drifted past and swing himself in
towards the beach. He tried to crawl fully ashore, but he collapsed with
his face in the sand and vomited out the water he had swallowed. It felt
so good just to be able to lie without effort and rest.
His lower body still hung into the river, but he had neither the
strength nor the inclination to drag himself fully ashore.
"I am alive," he marvelled, and fell into a state halfway between sleep
and unconsciousness.
never knew how long he had been lying like that, but when he felt a
hand shaking his shoulder, and a voice calling softly to him, he was
annoyed that his rest had been disturbed.
"Effendi, wake up! They seek you. The beautiful Woizero seeks you."
With a huge effort Nicholas roused himself and sat up slowly. Tamre
knelt over him, grinning and waggling his head.
(Please, effendi, come with me. The Woizero is searching the river bank
on the far side. She is weeping and calling your name,' Tamre told him.
He was the only person Nicholas had ever met who contrived to look
worried and to grin at the same time. Nicholas looked beyond him and saw
that it must be late afternoon, for the sun sat fat and red on the lip
of the escarpment.
While still sitting in the sand Nicholas checked his body, making an
inventory of his injuries. He ached in every muscle, and his legs and
arms were scraped and bruised, but he could detect no broken bones. And
although there was a tender lump on'the side of his he ad where he had
glanced off a rock, his mind was clear.
"Help me upP he ordered Tamre. The boy put his shoulder under Nicholas's
armpit, where the. rope had burnt him, and hoisted him to his feet. The
two of them struggled up to the bank and on to the path, and then.
hobbled slowly across the swinging bridge.
He had hardly reached the other bank when there was a joyous shout from
close at hand.
"Nicky! Oh, dear God! You are safe." Royan ran down the path and threw
her arms around him. "I have been frantic. I thought that-' she broke
off, and held him at arms length to look at him. "Are you all right? I
was expecting to find your broken bodym---'
"You know me," he grinned at her and tried not to i limp. "Ten'feet tall
and-bullet-proof You don't get rid of Me that easily. I only did it just
to get a hug from you."
She released him hurriedly. "Don't read anything into that. I am kind to
all beaten puppies, and other dumb animals." But her smile belied the
words. "Nevertheless, it's good to have you back in one piece, Nicky."
"Where is Boris?"he asked.
"He and the trackers are searching the banks lower down the river. I
think he is looking forward to finding your corpse."
"What has he done with my dik-dik?"
ainly nothing too much the matter with
"There is cert you if you can worry about that. The skinners have taken
it down to the camp."
"Damn it to hell! I must supervise the skinning and tion of the trophy
myself. They will ruin id' He put prepara his arm around Tamre's
shoulder. "Come on, my lad! Let's see if I can break into a trot."
las knew that in this heat the carcass of icho the little antelope would
decompose swiftly, and the hair would slough from the hide if it were
not treated immediately. It was imperative to skin it out immediately.
Already it had been left too long, and the preparation of a hide for a
full body mount was a skilled and painstaking procedure.
it was already dark as they limped into the camp.
Nicholas shouted for the skinners in Arabic.
"Ya, Kif! Ya, SalinP and when they came running from living huts he
asked anxiously, "Have you begun?" their
"Not yet, effendi. We were having our dinner first."
"For once gluttony is a virtue. Do not touch the creature until I come.
While you are waiting for me, fetch one of the gas lights!" He limped to
his own hut as fast as his aches would allow. There he stripped and
anointed all his visible scrapes and abrasions with Mercurochrome, flung
on fresh dry clothes, rummaged in his bag until he found the canvas roll
which contained his knives, and hurried down to the skinning hut.
By the brilliant white glare of the butane gas lantern he had only just
completed the initial skin incisions down the inside of the dik-dik's
legs and belly when Boris pushed open the door of the hut.
"Did you have a good swim, English?"
"Bracing, thank you." Nicholas smiled. "I don't expect you want to eat
your words about my striped dik-dik, do you?" he asked mildly. "No such
bloody animal, I think you said., "It is like a rat. A true hunter would
not bother himself with such rubbish," Boris replied haughtily. "Now
that you have your rat, perhaps we can go back to Addis, English?"
"I paid you for three weeks. It is my safari. We go when I say
so,'Nicholas told him. Boris grunted and backed out of the hut.
Nicholas worked swiftly. His knives were of a special design to
facilitate the fine work, and he stropped them at regular intervals on a
ceramic sharpening rod until he could shave the hairs from his forearm
with just the lightest touch.
The legs had to be skinned out with the tiny hooves still attached.
Before he had completed this part of the work, another figure stooped
into the hut. He was dressed in a priest's shamma and headcloth, and
until he spoke Nicholas did not recognize Mek Nimmur.
"I hear that you have been looking for trouble again, Nicholas. I came
to make sure that you were still alive.
There was a rumour at the monastery that you had drowned yourself,
though I knew it was not possible. You will not die so easily."
"I hope you are right, Mek," Nicholas laughed at him.
Mek squatted opposite him. "Give me one of your knives and I will finish
the hooves. It will go quicker if I help you."
Without comment Nicholas passed him one of the knives. He knew that Mek
could skin out the hooves, for years before he had taught him the art.
With two of them working on the pelt, it would go that much faster. The
sooner the skin was off, the less chance there would be of
deterioration.
He turned his attention to the head. This was the most delicate part of
the process. The skin had to be peeled off like a glove, and the eyelids
and lips and nostrils must be worked from the inside. The ears were
perhaps the most difficult to lift away from the gristle in one piece.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, which Mek broke at
last.
"How well do you know your Russian, Boris Brusilov?" he asked.
"I met him for the first time when I stepped off the plane. He was
recommended by a friend."