Bleck came blundering up, his breath rasping at the back of his throat.
‘You yellow rat!’ he snarled. ‘I’ll kill you for this!’
He aimed a kick at Gypo’s prostrated body, but Kitson blocked his swinging foot with his arm.
‘Cut it out!’ Kitson said. ‘Can’t you see there’s something wrong with him?’
‘The snake,’ Gypo sobbed and tried to lift his paralysed right arm to show Kitson.
Kitson leaned forward and saw how red and swollen Gypo’s hand was. He touched the swollen flesh, and Gypo gave a squeal of pain that sent a chill up Kitson’s spine.
‘What happened?’ Kitson asked, squatting down beside Gypo.
‘The snake,’ Gypo panted. ‘I crawled right onto it.’
Kitson saw the two telltale punctures in the inflamed flesh.
‘Take it easy, Gypo,’ he said. ‘I’ll fix it. Don’t get scared.’
‘Get me to hospital,’ Gypo moaned. ‘I don’t want to die the way my brother died.’
Kitson took out his handkerchief, and twisted it into a cord, then he tied it around Gypo’s wrist.
‘You mean he’s been bitten by a snake?’ Bleck said, grabbing Kitson by his shoulder. ‘Then how the hell are we going to open the truck?’
Kitson shook him off. He took out a penknife from his pocket and opened one of the blades.
‘This is going to hurt, Gypo,’ he said, catching hold of Gypo’s wrist. ‘But it’ll fix it.’
He dug the point of the knife into Gypo’s hot, swollen hand and cut down.
Gypo screamed, hitting Kitson with his left hand feebly and trying to pull free.
The wound Kitson had made began to bleed. Still keeping his grip, Kitson tried to squeeze out the snake poison. He was alarmed at Gypo’s pallor: he looked as if he were dying.
‘Alex,’ Gypo gasped, ‘you are my friend. I didn’t mean what I said. Get me to hospital.’
‘I’ll get you there. Take it easy,’ Kitson said. He tightened the handkerchief around Gypo’s wrist, then stood up. ‘I’ll get the Buick.’
Bleck said, ‘You’ll do — what?’
‘I’m getting the car and I’m taking Gypo to hospital,’ Kitson said. ‘Look at him! He’s in a bad way.’ He turned and started up the hill towards the road.
‘Kitson!’ The snap in Bleck’s voice made Kitson pause and turn.
‘What is it?’
‘Come back here!’ Bleck shouted. ‘Have you gone nuts? Look up there!’ He pointed to an aircraft that was slowly circling the mountains. ‘You bring the car out of cover and they’ll spot it. How long do you think it’ll be before the cops come up here to investigate?’
‘So what?’ Kitson said angrily. ‘We’ve got to get him to hospital, otherwise he’ll die. Can’t you see that?’
‘You’re not to bring the car out of cover,’ Bleck said.
‘It’s thirty miles to the hospital,’ Kitson said. ‘What do you expect me to do — carry him?’
‘I don’t give a damn!’ Bleck snarled. ‘You’re not bringing the car out on this road in daylight. He’ll have to take his chance!’
‘Oh, go to hell!’ Kitson said and, turning, he started up the side of the mountain towards the road.
‘Kitson!’
The threat in Bleck’s voice made Kitson pause and he looked back.
Bleck had his gun out and it was pointing at him.
‘Come back here!’ Bleck said.
‘He’s dying!’ Kitson said. ‘Can’t you see that?’
‘You come back here!’ Bleck said, his voice vicious. ‘You’re not getting the car. Come back here and fast! I’m not telling you again, plough boy!’
Aware that his heart was beginning to thump, Kitson came slowly back down the slope. This was it! he thought. This is where I take this punk. I’ve got to watch out for his right hand. This is the show down. I’m not going to let Gypo die.
‘We’ve got to do something for him,’ he said as he approached Bleck. ‘We just can’t stand here and watch him die! We’ve got to get him to hospital.’
‘Look at him, you fool!’ Bleck said. ‘By the time you get up there, get the car, bring it down here, load him in and get him to hospital, he’ll be dead.’
‘We’ve got to do something for him,’ Kitson said and, not looking at Bleck, he moved past him, his muscles tense, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bleck lower the gun.
Kitson swung around, his fist coming down in a chopping blow on Bleck’s wrist.
The gun shot out of Bleck’s hand and dropped into the shrubs. Bleck jumped back and faced Kitson. There was a pause as they looked at each other, then Bleck grinned.
‘Okay, you bum,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve been asking for it. I’ve always wanted to take you, now I’ll show you what fighting means.’
Kitson waited, his hands in fists, his eyes narrowed.
Bleck moved forward, weaving a little, his chin tucked down, his hands held low.
Kitson shot out a probing left, but Bleck’s head shifted and Kitson’s fist scraped past his ear. Bleck ducked under Kitson’s right hand counter and his right thudded into Kitson’s ribs; a thump that made Kitson give ground and gasp.
As Bleck moved in, Kitson caught him with a left and a right to the head that staggered Bleck.
The two men shifted away, then came in simultaneously, slugging at each other, shifting from the heavier blows, taking the lighter ones, moving in and out, cautious and watchful.
Kitson thought he saw an opening and he slammed in a hard left, but Bleck weaved away and Kitson’s left slid over his shoulder. His lips peeling off his teeth, Bleck let go with his right that took Kitson solidly under his heart.
It was a devastating punch and its solid impact brought Kitson down to his knees.
Still grinning, Bleck moved forward and clubbed Kitson on the side of his neck and Kitson dropped face down, his mind blacked out.
Bleck stood back.
Kitson managed to heave himself up on his hands and knees, shaking his head. He saw Bleck moving forward, and he threw himself at Bleck’s knees, his arms wrapping themselves around Bleck’s legs.
As Bleck fell, he thumped Kitson on the top of his head.
The two men sprawled on the ground. Still dazed, Kitson tried to get a grip on Bleck’s throat, but Bleck hit him on the side of his head, and then rolled clear.
As Bleck got to his feet, Kitson pushed himself upright. He was a little late in getting his hands up, and he took Bleck’s right hand punch, high up on his cheekbone. He sagged under the force of the punch. Lurching forward, he tied up Bleck’s arm, and for a long moment, the two men wrestled, Bleck trying to break Kitson’s hold, and Kitson frantically trying to hold on until his head cleared.
Bleck finally broke free and let go a long, raking left that Kitson just managed to avoid. He sank a right-hand punch into Bleck’s ribs and he saw Bleck’s face contort with pain.
Encouraged, Kitson crowded forward. He slammed a right and a left to Bleck’s head.
Grunting and snarling, Bleck backed away.
Kitson tossed over a left swing that landed high up on Bleck’s head. Bleck staggered and threw up his hands. Kitson sank his right into Bleck’s belly. Bleck reeled back, gasping.
Intent now on the kill, Kitson moved forward recklessly. He started a punch, but realized a shade too late that Bleck was throwing his right hand.
Kitson felt the thud against his jaw, then something white and hot exploded inside his head. He knew as he fell he had walked into Bleck’s special punch, but there was nothing he could do about it. He fell face down, his face coming into contact with sharp stones, and, grunting with pain, he rolled over, his cut face upturned to the hot sun. He lay there, stunned, for some moments, then he made the effort and raised his head.
Bleck was bending over Gypo, staring down at him.