Текст книги "The Seventh Scroll"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

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metallic salt that he realized it was a trickle of blood.

The fine talcum dust powdered them and irritated their throats, so that

they coughed and choked in the uproar.

The dust seeped into their eyes, and they were forced to clench their

lids and keep them tightly shut.

One mass of rock the size of a wagon sprang high in the air and then

fell back close beside where they lay. The impact made the earth jump so

violently that Royan, with Nicholas's weight on top of her, was struck

in the belly and diaphragm with a force that drove the wind from her

lungs, and she thought that her ribs had been crushed.

Then gradually the downpouring of earth and rock began to subside. The

breath-stopping impact of great boulders into their shelter became less

frequent: The fine dust they were breathing began to settle. The

rumbling and roaring let up gradually, until the only sound was the slip

and slide of settling earth and rock and the burble of the river below

them.

Warily, Nicholas at last lifted his head and tried to blink the dust off

his eyelashes. Royan stiffed under him, and he crawled back to let her

sit up. They stared at each other. Their faces were caked into kabuki

masks with the antimony-white dust, and their hair was powdered like the

wigs of eighteenth-century French aristocrats.

"You are bleeding," Royan whispered, her voice husky with dust and

terror.

Nicholas lifted his hand to his face and it came away covered with a

paste of dust and blood. "It's just a nick," he said. "How are you!'

"I think I may have twisted my knee. I felt something give when we fell.

I don't think it's serious. There is very little pain."

"Men we have both been ridiculously lucky," he told her. "Nobody

deserved to survive that."

She made an effort to stand, but he restrained her with a hand on her

shoulder. "Wait! The entire slope above us is broken and unstable. Give

it time. There will be loose rocks coming down for a while yet." He

untied the Paisley bandana from around his throat and handed it to her.

"Besides which, we don't want-' But he changed his mind and did not

finish his sentence, While she wiped her face she asked shakily, "You

were going to say, besides which-?"

don't want to give those bastards

"Besides which, we up there any idea that we have survived their little

party.

Otherwise we will have them down here finishing the job, cutting

throats. Much better they believe that we snuffed it, as intended."

"Do you think– they are still up She stared at him.

there, watching us?"

"Count on it," he answered grimly. "They must be pretty chuffed with the

fact that they have at last succeeded in getting rid of you. We don't

want to pop our heads up right now and spoil it for them."

"How did you know what was going to happen?" she asked. "If you hadn't

grabbed me-' Her voice petered out.

In a few words he explained about the scrap of gelignite wrapping.

"Simplest thing in the world to pick one of the narrowest sections of

the trail and mine the cliff-' He broke Off as, faintly but

unmistakably, there came the sound of an aircraft engine and the flutter

of rotors in fully fine pitch for takeoffs

"Quickly," he snapped at her. "Get in as close as you can to the

overhang." He pushed her back against the sheltering boulder. "Lie flad'

When she obeyed without question, he lay beside her and piled loose

rubble over them both.

"Lie still. Don't move, whatever you do."

They lay and listened to the sound of the helicopter approaching, and

circling overhead. It moved up and down the valley, flying a few feet

above the surface of the river.

At one point it was directly above the ledge on which they lay, and they

were buffeted by the down-draught of the rotors.

"Looking for survivors," said Nicholas grimly. "Don't move. They haven't

spotted us yet."

"If they were watching us before the blast, they should have been able

to come directly to where we are," she whispered. They seem confused."

"They must have lost us in the dust of the avalanche and the break-up of

the cliff face. They aren't sure where we are lying." The sound of the

helicopter moved off slowly along the river, and Nicholas told her, "I

am going to risk a peep, to make sure it's the Pegasus job – not that

there can be many other choppers in this area. Keep your head down!'

He lifted his head slowly and cautiously, and one glance was sufficient

to confirm all his speculations. Half a mile upstream, the Pegasus jet

Ranger hovered over the river. It was moving slowly away from him, so

that from this angle Nicholas was unable to see through the windscreen

into the cockpit. But at that moment the engine beat changed as the

pilot changed pitch and pulled on the collective.

As the aircraft rose vertically and turned northwards, Nicholas caught a

glimpse of the passengers. Jake Helm sat in the front seat beside the

pilot, and Colonel Nogo was in the seat behind him. They were both

staring down into the river valley, but in seconds the helicopter lifted

them away and the machine disappeared beyond the ridge, flying in the

direction of the escarpment, and the sound of its engines dwindled into

silence. Nicholas crawled out from beneath the boulder and pulled Royan

to her feet.

"No more doubts. We know who we are dealing with now. That was Helm and

No  in the chopper. Helm 9 almost certainly laid the gelly, and Nogo

probably led the men who hit our camp last night. Each of them doing the

job he does best," Nicholas told her. "So that confirms it.

Whoever owns Pegasus is the ugly behind all this. Helm and Nogo are

merely the stooges."

"But Nogo is an officer in the Ethiopian army," she protested.

"Welcome to Africa." He did not smile as he said it.

"Here everything is for sale at a price, including government officials

and army officers." Now he scowled so that the caked dust on his face

was dislodged and filtered down in a fine powdering. "Now, however, our

main concern is to get out of the gorge and back to civilization."

He looked up the slope. The trail above them had been obliterated

beneath the rock fall. "We can't get back that way," he told her, and

took her hand. But when he lifted her to her feet she gasped and quickly

shifted her weight to her right leg.

My knee!" Then she smiled bravely. "It will be all right.)

However, she was limping heavily as they scrambled down to the rivet,

terrified that their movements would set off another rock slide. They

ended up waist'deep in the water under the bank.

Royan stood behind Nicholas and washed the blood and dust from the wound

in his scalp. "Not too bad," she told him. "Doesn't need a stitch."

"I have a tube of Betadyne in my pack," he said. He fished it out, and

she smeared the wound with the yellow brown ointment before binding it

up with the Paisley bandana.

"That will do." She patted his shoulder.

"Thank the Lord for my burn-bag,'Nicholas remarked as he zipped it

closed. "At least we have a few essentials with us. Now our next job is

to look for any other survivors."

"Tamte!'she exclaimed.

They floundered along the bank. The river was clogged with loose rock

and earth that had fallen from the cliff. In the deeper places they were

forced in up to their armpits, and Nicholas carried his pack at arm's

length above his head. The loose rock was treacherous, and gave way

under them when they tried to scramble out of the water to search for

the other members of the caravan.

They found the bodies of two of the monks, both of them crushed and

half-buried. They did not even attempt to dig them free. One of the

mules lay with one leg in the air and the rest of its body completely

covered with broken rock. The pack that it had carried had burst open

and the contents were scattered about. The rolled skin and trophies of

the dik-dik had been churned into the muck. Nicholas rescued them and

strapped them on to his burn-bag.

"More to carry,'Royan warned him.

"Only a pound or two, but worth it," he replied.

They made their way towards the point below the itail where they had

last seen Tamre and Aly. But though they searched for almost an hour

they found no sign of either of them. The slope above them was

devastated: raw ravaged earth, great rocks shattered, bushes and trees

uprooted and smashed to kindling.

Royan climbed as high as her injured leg enabled her, then cupped her

hands around her mbuth and shouted, "Tamre I Tamre! Tamre!" The echoes

took her cry and flung it from' all to valley wall.

"I think he is done for. The poor little devil has been buried,'

Nicholas called up to her. "We have been at it an hour now. We cannot

afford more time, if we are to get out ourselves. We will have to leave

him."

She ignored him and worked her way along the rockslide, loose scree

rolling under her feet, and he could see that the knee was giving her

pain.

"Tamre! Answer me," she called in Arabic. "Tamre!

Where are you?"

"Royan! That's enough. You are going to damage that knee even more. You

are putting both of us at risk now.

Give it up!'

At that moment they both heard a soft groan from higher up the slope.

Royan scrambled up towards the sound, slipping and sliding back almost

as far as she climbed, but at last she gave a cry of horror. Nicholas

dumped his pack and went up after her. When he reached her side, he too

dropped to his knees.

Tam-re was pinned down in the rubble. His face was barely recognizable.

It was torn and lacerated, with half the skin ripped off. Royan had

lifted his head into her lap, and was using her sleeve to wipe the filth

out of his nostrils to allow him to breathe more freely. Blood was

oozing from the corner of his mouth, and when he groaned again it welled

up in a fresh flood. Royan dabbed at it, smearing it across his chin.

His lower body was buried, and Nicholas tried to clear the broken rock;

but almost immediately he realized the futility of it. A lump of raw

rock the size of a billiard table lay across him. It weighed many tons,

and must certainly have crushed his spine and pelvis. No single man

would be able to move that massive weight unaided. Even if it were

ossible, the grinding action of any movement would inevitably aggravate

the terrible injuries that Tamre had already sustained.

"Do something,  icky," Royan whispered. "We have to do something for

him."

Nicholas looked at her and shook his head. Royan's eyes flooded with

tears, and they broke over her lower lids and scattered like raindrops

into Tamre's upturned face, diluting the blood to the pink of ros6 wine.

"We can't just sit here and let him die," she Protested, and at the

sound of her voice Tamre opened his eyes and looked into her face.

He smiled through the blood, and that smile lit his dusty, broken face.

"Ummee!" he whispered. "You are my mother. You are so kind. I love you,

my mother."

The words were bitten off and a spasm stiffened his body. His face

contorted with agony and he gave a soft, strangled cry, and then

slumped. The rigidity went out of his shoulders and his head rolled to

one side.

Royan sat for long time holding his head and weeping softly, but

bitterly, until Nicholas touched her hand and said EentIv. "He is dead,

Royan."

She nodded. "I know. He held on just long enough to say goodbye to me."

He let her mourn a little longer, and then he told her softly, "We must

go, my dear."

"You are right. But it is so hard to leave him here. He never had

anybody. He was so alone. He called me mother.

I think he truly loved me."

"I know he did," Nicholas assured her, lifting the boy's dead head from

her lap and helping her to her feet. "Go  wait for me. I will cover him

the best I can." down an Nicholas crossed Tamre's hands upon his chest,

and folded his fingers around the silver crucifix that hung around his

neck. Then he piled loose rock carefully over him, covering his head so

that the crows and vultures could not reach him.

He slid down to where she waited in the water, and slung his pack over

one shoulder.

"We must go on," he told Royan.

She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and nodded. "I am

ready now."

They waded upstream, pushing hard against the current. The rock-slide

had blocked half the river bed and the waters squeezed through the gap

that was left. When at last they reached the point on the bank above the

avalanche, they climbed out of the river and picked their way up the

steep bank until at last they could crawl out on to the intact section

of the pathway.

They took a moment to recover and looked back. The river below the

rock-slide was running red-brown with mud. Even if the monks at the

monastery downstream had not heard the explosions, they would be alarmed

by that flood of discoloured water and would come to investigate.

They would find the bodies and take them down for decent burial. That

thought comforted Royan a little as they struck out along the trail,

with two days' hard travel still ahead of them.

Royan was limping heavily now, but each time Nichoto help her she

brushed his hand away. "I am all right. It's just a bit stiff." She

would not allow him to inspect the knee, but kept on stubbornly along

the trail ahead of him.

They marched mostly in silence for the rest of that day. Nicholas

respected her grief and was grateful for her reticence. This ability to

be quiet and yet not give out a sense of alienation and withdrawal to

those around her was one of the qualities he admired in her. They spoke

briefly late that afternoon while they paused to rest beside the path.

"The only consolation is that now Pegasus will believe that we are

safely buried under the rock-slide and they won't bother to come looking

for us again. We can push on without wasting time scouting the trail

ahead," Nicholas told her.

They camped that night below the escarpment, just before the path began

the climb up the vertical wall.

Nicholas led her well off the path, into a heavily wooded gully, and

built a small screened fire that could not be seen from the trail.

Here at last she relented and allowed him to examine her knee. It was

bruised and swollen, and hot to the touch.

"You shouldn't be walking on this," he told her.

"Do I have any option?" she asked, and he had no reply. He wetted his

bandana from the water bottle and bound up her leg As tightly as he

dared without cutting Off the circulation. Then he found a phial of

Brufen in his burn-bag and made her take two of these anti,

inflaminatories.

"It feels better already," she told him.

They shared the last bar of survival -rations from his pack, sitting

hunched up over the fire and talking quietly, still subdued and shaken

by their experiences.

"What will happen when we reach the top?" Royan asked. "Will the trucks

still be parked where we left them?

Will the men that Boris left to guard them still be there?

What will happen if we run into the men from Pegasus again?"

"I can't give you any answers. We will just have to face each problem as

it comes up."

"One thing I am looking forward to when we reach Addis Ababa – reporting

the massacre of Tamre and the others to the Ethiopian police. I want

Helm and his gang to pay for what they have done."

He was quiet for a while before he replied. "I don't know if that is the

wisest thing to do," he ventured at last.

"What do you mean? We. were witnesses to murder.

We cannot let them get away with it."

"Just remember that we want to return to Ethiopia. If we make a huge

fuss now, we will have the entire valley swarming with troops and

police. It may put an end to our further attempts to solve Taita's

riddle, and to trace the tomb of Marnose."

"I hadn't thought of that," she said thoughtfully. "But still, it was

murder, and Tamre-'

"I know, I know," he soothed her. "But there are more certain ways of

wreaking vengeance on Pegasus than trying to turn them over to Ethiopian

justice. Consider for the moment the fact that Nogo is working with

Helm. We saw him in the helicopter. If Pegasus have an army colonel in

their pay, who else is working for them? The police? The head of the

army? Members of the cabinet? We just don't know at this stage."

"I hadn't thought about that either," she admitted.

"Let's begin to think African from here on, and take a leaf out of

Taita's scrolls. Like him we must be devious and cunning. We don't go

rushing in shouting accusations. If we could just sneak out of the

country, leaving everybody to believe that we are buried under the

avalanche, that might be ideal. It would make our return to the gorge

that much easier. Unfortunately I don't think we will be able to get

away with that. But from now on, we should be as cagey and careful as

circumstances permit."

She stared into the dancing flames for a long while, then sighed and

asked, "You said there is a better vengeance to he had on Pegasus. What

did you have in mind?"

"Why, simply whisking Marnose's treasure out from under their noses."

She laughed for the first time that long cruel day. "You are right, of

course. Whoever owns Pegasus wants it desperately enough to kill for it.

We must hope that depriving him of it will hurt him almost as badly as

he has hurt us."

Both of them were so tired that it was already half-light'when they woke

the next morning.

As soon as Royan tried to stand she groaned and sank back. He went to

her immediately, and she made no protest when he placed her bare leg

across his lap.

He unwrapped the bandana, and frowned as he saw the knee. It was nearly

twice its normal girth, and the bruising was plum and ripe grape. He wet

the bandana again, and rewrapped the knee. He made her take the last two

Brufen from the phial, and then helped her to her feet.

"How does it feel?" he asked anxiously, and she hobbled a few paces and

smiled at him bravely.

"It will be all right as soon as I walk the stiffness out of it, I'

sure."

He looked up the escarpment. So close in under the wall, the height was

foreshortened, but he recalled every tortuous step of the way. It had

taken them a full day to come down.

"Of course it will." He smiled encouragement at her, and took her arm.

"Lean on me. It'll be a stroll in the park.

They toiled upwards all that morning. The trail seemed to rise more

steeply with every pace they took. She never complained, but she was

ashen pate and sweating with the pain. By midday they had not yet

reached the waterfall, and Nicholas made her stop to rest. They had

nothing to eat, but she drank thirstily from the water bottle. He did

not try to ration her, but limited himself to a single mouthful.

When she tried to rise, and go on, she gasped and staggered so violently

that she might have fallen if he had not steadied her.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she swore bitterly. "It's stiffened up on me."

"Never mind," he said cheerfully, and stripped his bumbag of all but the

most crucial items of equipment. He kept the dik-dik skin, however,

rolling it into a tight ball and stuffing it into the bag. Then he

rebuckled it around his waist, and grinned at her cheerfully. "Skinny

little thing like you. Hop on my back."

"You can't carry me up there." She looked up the trail, steep as a

ladderway, and was aghast.

"It's the only train leaving from this station," he told her, and

offered her his back. She crawled up on to' it.

"Don't you think you should dump the dik-dik skin?" she asked.

"Perish the thought!" he said, and started up.

It was slow and heavy-going. After a while he had nothing left over for

talking, and he trudge' upwards in dogged silence. Sweat drenched his

shirt, but she found neither the wet warmth of it that permeated her

blouse on to her own skin, nor the strong masculine odour of it

offensive. Instead, it was comforting and reassuring.

Every half hour he stopped until his breathing became regular and even

again. Then he opened his eyes and grinned at her.

"Hi ho, Silver!" He pushed himself to his feet, and bowed his back for

her to scramble aboard.

As the day wore on, his jokes became more forced and feeble. By late

afternoon the pace was down to an exhausted plod, and at the more

difficult places he had to pause and gather himself before stepping up.

She tried to help him by climbing down from his back, and supporting

herself on his shoulder as they struggled over the more arduous pitches,

but even with this respite she knew that he was burning up the very last

of his strength.

Neither of them could truly credit their achievement when they reeled

around another corner of the track and saw before them the waterfall,

spilling down like a white lacy curtain across the trail. Nicholas

staggered into the cavern behind the sheet of falling water and lowered

her to the floor. Then he collapsed and lay like a dead man.

It was dark when he had at last recovered sufficiently to open his eyes

and sit up. While he was resting Royan had gathered'some wood from the

monks' stockpile and managed to get a small fire going.

"Good girl," he told her. "If ever you want a job as a housekeeper-

"Don't tempt me." She hobbled over to him, and examined the cut in his

scalp. "Nice healthy scab," she told him, and then suddenly and

impulsively she hugged his head to her bosom and stroked his dusty,

sweat-stiff hair off his forehead.

"Oh, Nicky! How can I ever repay you for what you did for me today?"

A flippant reply rose to his lips, but even in his weakened state he had

the good sense to bite it back. He was in no state to attempt any

further intimacy. So he lay in her embrace, enjoying the feel of her

body against his, but not taking the risk of scaring her off with a move

of his own.

At last she released him gently, and sat back. "I very much regret, sir,

that the housekeeper cannot offer you smoked salmon and champagne for

your dinner. How about a mug of mountain water, pure and nourishing?"

"I think we can do better than that." He took the drycell torch from his

burn'bag, and by its beam selected a round, fist-sized stone from the

floor of the cavern. With this in his right hand he turned the light

upwards, and played it over the cavern roof. Immediately there was a

rustling of wings and the alarmed cooing of the rock pigeons that were

roosting on the ledges. Nicholas manoeuvred into position below them,

dazzling them with the torch beam.

With his first throw he brought down a brace of them, fluttering and

squawking to the cavern floor, while the rest of the flock exploded out

into the night in a great clattering uproar of frantic wings. Nicholas

pounced on the downed birds and with a practised flick of the wrist

wrung their necks.

"How do you fancy a juicy slice of roast pigeon?" he asked her.

She lay propped on one elbow, and he sat cross-legged facing her, each

of them plucking the vinous-maroon and grey feathers from one of the

pigeon carcasses. Even when it came to drawing the bird, she was not

squeamish, as many other women might have been faced with the same task.

This, together with her stoical performance during the day's struggle up

the mountain, enhanced his opinion of her. She had repeatedly proved to

him how game and plucky she was. His feelings towards her were

strengthening and maturing every day.

Concentrating on removing the fine bristles from the puckered breast

skin of the bird, she said, "It is beyond all doubt now that the

material stolen in the raid on our camp is in Pegasus hands."

"I was thinking the same thing," Nicholas nodded, "and we know from the

antennae at their base camp above the falls that they have satellite

communications. We can place a pretty certain bet that Jake Helm has

already telefaxed it through to the big man, whoever he may be."

"So he has all the details of the stele in Tanus's tomb.

We know that he already has the seventh scroll in his possession. If he

isn't an expert Egyptologist himself, he must have somebody in his pay

who is. Wouldn't you agree with that?"

I would guess that he can read hieroglyphics himself.

I would think that he must be an avid collector. I know the type. It is

an obsession with them."

"I know the type as well." She smiled at him. "There is one sitting not

a thousand miles away from me at this very moment."

"ToucV' he laughed, and held up his hands in surrender. "But I have only

been lightly bitten by the bug, compared to others I could name. Those

other two on Duraid's list, for instance."

"Peter Walsh and Gotthold von Schiller," she reeled off the names.

"Those two are homicidal collectors,," he confirmed. "I -am sure neither

of them would hesitate to kill for the chance of having Pharaoh Mamose's

treasure to themselves."

"But from what I know about them, both of them are billionaires, at

least in dollar terms."

"Money has nothing to do with it, don't you see. If they laid hands upon

it, they would never ever dream of selling a single artefact from the

hoard. They would lock it all away in some deep vault, and not let

another living soul la eyes upon it. They would gloat on it in private -

it's a bizarre, masturbatory passion."

"What an odd word to describe it," she protested.

"But accurate, I assure you. It's a sexual thing a compulsion, like that

of a serial killer."

"I love all things Egyptian, but I don't think I can even imagine a

craving that intense."

"You must remember that these are not ordinary men whom we are

considering. Their wealth allows'them to pander to any appetite'. All

the normal, natural human appetites soon become jaded and satiated. They

can have anything they want. Any man or any woman. Any thing, any

perversion, whether legal or not. In the end they have to find something

that no one else can ever have. It's the only thing that can still give

them the old thrill."

"So in whoever is behind Pegasus we are dealing with a madman?" she

asked softly.

"Much more than that," he corrected her. "We are enormously wealthy and

powerful dealing with an maniac, who in his disease will stop at

nothing."

They picked the cold carcasses of the roasted pigeons for their

breakfast. Then, while the other one tactfully went to the back of the

cavern an  averted his or her gaze, they took turns to strip naked and

bathe under the waterfall.

After the heat of the gorge the water was icy cold. It battered them

with the force of a fire hose. Royan hopped on her good leg, gasping and

whimpering under the torrent, and emerged covered in goose-pimples and

shuddering blue with cold. However, it refreshed her, and even in her

filthy, sweat-stinking clothes it gave her heart to start out on the

last bitter climb to the summit.

Before leaving the cavern they examined each other's injuries again.

Nicholas's scalp wound was heating cleanly, but Royan's knee was no

better than the previous day. The bruises were starting to turn a

virulent puce, the colour of decomposing liver, and the swelling was

unabated. There was very little he could do for it, other than strapping

it again with the bandana.

At last Nicholas admitted defeat, and abandoned his burn-bag and the

roll of dik'dik skin. He knew that he was reaching the limit of his

physical reserves, and he realized that, light as these items were,

every extra pound that he carried today might mean the difference

between reaching the summit or breaking down on the trail. He retained

only the three rolls of undeveloped film, each in its plastic capsule.

These were their only record of the hieroglyphics' on the stele in

Tanus's tomb. He dared not risk losing them, so he buttoned them into

the breast pocket of his khaki shirt. He tucked both the bag and the

skin into a crack in the wall at the back of the cavern, determined to

retrieve them at some later date.

And so they started out on the last but most onerous leg of the trail.

To begin with Royan was on her own two feet, but leaning heavily on his

shoulder. However, before the first hour was over her knee could no

longer take the strain, and she subsided on to a rock on the edge of the

pathway.

"I am being an awful nuisance, aren't I?

"Come on board, lady. Always room for a small one." With Royan perched

on Nicholas's back, her injured leg sticking out stiffly in front of

her, they toiled upwards, but their progress was even slower than it had

been the day before. Nicholas was forced to pause and rest at shorter

and shorter intervals. On the easier pitches she dismounted and hopped

along on one leg beside him, steadying herself with one hand on his

shoulder. Then she would collapse, and he had to lift her to her feet

and pull her up on to his back once again.

The journey descended into nightmare, and both of them lost all sense of

the passage of time. Hours blended with hours into a single unremitting

agony. At one stage they lay beside each other on the path, sick and

nauseated with thirst and exhaustion and pain. They had emptied the

water bottle an hour ago, and there was no more on this section of the

path – nothing to drink until they reached the summit and were reunited

with the Dandera river.

"Go on and leave me here, she whispered hoarsely.

He sat up immediately and stared at her. "Don't be silly. I need you for

ballast."

"It can't be much further to the top," she insisted. "You can come back

with some of Boris's men to help carry me."

"If they are still there, and if Pegasus doesn't find you first." He

stood up a little unsteadily. "Forget it. You are coming along on this

ride, all the way."And he hoisted her to her feet.

He made her count aloud every step he took, and at every hundredth he

paused and rested. Then he started the next hundred, with her counting

softly in his ear, clinging with both arms around his neck. The whole

universe seemed to shrink in upon them to the ground directly at his

feet. They no longer saw the rock cliff on one side nor the deep void of

space on the other. When he lurched or jolted her and the pain shot

through her knee, she closed her eyes and tried not to let her voice

betray it to him as she kept counting.

When he rested, he had to lean against the cliff face, not trusting his

legs to get him up again if he lay down. He dared not lower her to the

ground. The effort of lifting her again would be too much. He no longer

had the strength for it.

"It's almost dark," she whispered in his ear. "You must stop here for