Текст книги "Eagle in the Sky"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

Соавторы: Wilbur Smith
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about.  Let's snatch a couple of those and make a few examples, David

went on.

Berg's big red face split into a happy grin.

I think I'm going to enjoy having you as a neighbour, he said, and again

he thrust his hand through the fence.

David winced as he felt his knuckles cracking in the huge fist.

Won't you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?

You and your wife?  Debra asked with relief.  It will be a mighty great

pleasure, ma'mI'll get out the whisky bottle, said David.  That's kind

of you, said Conrad Berg seriously, but the missus and I only drink Old

Buck dry gin, with a little water.  'I'll see to it, said David just as

seriously.

Jane Berg was a slim woman of about Conrad's age.  She had a dried-out

face, lined and browned by the sun.  Her hair was suribleached and

streaked with grey, and, as Debra remarked, she was probably the only

thing in the world that Conrad was afraid of.

I'm talking, Connie, was enough to halt any flow of eloquence from her

huge spouse, or a significant glance at her empty glass sent him with

elephantine haste for a refill.  Conrad had a great deal of trouble

finishing any story or statement, for Jane had to correct the details

during the telling, while he waited patiently for an opportunity to

resume.

Debra chose the main course with care so as not to give offence,

beefsteaks from the deep freeze, and Conrad ate four of them with

unreserved pleasure although he spurned the wine that David served.

That stuff is poison.  Killed one of my uncles, and stayed with Old Buck

gin, even through the dessert.

Afterwards they sat about the cavernous fireplace with its logs blazing

cheerfully and Conrad explained, with Jane's assistance, the problems

that David would face on Jabulani.

You get a few of the blacks from the tribal areas coming in from the

north Or across the river, Jane added.

Or across the river, but they are no big sweat They set wire snares

mostly, and they don't kill that much. But it's a terribly cruel way,

the poor animals linger on for days with the wire cutting down to the

bone, Jane elaborated.

As I was saying, once we have a few rangers busy that will stop almost

immediately.  It's the white poachers with modern rifles and hunting

lamps 'Killing lamps, Jane corrected.

killing lamps, that do the real damage.  They finished off all your game

on Jabulani in a couple of seasons.  Where do they come from? David

asked, his anger was rising again, the same protective anger of the

shepherd that he had felt as he flew the skies of Israel.

There is a big copper mine fifty miles north of here at Phalabora,

hundreds of bored miners with a taste for venison.  They would come down

here and blaze away at every living thing, but now it's not worth the

trip for them.  Anyway they were just the amateurs, the weekend

poachers.  'Who are the professionals?  Where the dirt road from

Jabulani meets the big national highway, about thirty miles from here -

At a place called Bandolier Hill, Jane supplied the name. – there is a

general dealer's store.  it's just one of those trading posts that gets

a little of the passing trade from the main road, but relies on the

natives from the tribal areas.  The person who owns and runs it has been

there eight years now, and I have been after him all that time, but he's

the craftiest bastard, I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan I have ever run into.

'He's the one?  David asked.

He's the one, Conrad nodded.  Catch him, and half your worries are over.

What's his name?  Akkers.  Johan Akkers, Jane gave her assistance, the

Old Buck was making her slightly owl-eyed, and she was having a little

difficulty with her enunciation.

How are we going to get him!  David mused.  There isn't anything left on

Tabulani to tempt him, the few kudu we have got are so wild, it wouldn't

be worth the effort.  No, you haven't got anything to tempt him right

now, but about the middle of September More like the first week in

September, Jane said firmly with strings of hair starting to hang down

her temples. – the first week in September the morula trees down by your

pools will come into fruit, and my elephants are going to visit you. The

one thing they just can't resist is morula berries, and they are going

to flatten my fence to get at them.  Before I can repair it a lot of

other game are going to follow the jumbo over to your side.

You can lay any type of odds you like that our friend Akkers is oiling

his guns and drooling at the mouth right this minute.  He will know

within an hour when the fence goes.  'This time he may get a surprise.

'Let's hope so.  I think– David said softly – that we might run down to

Bandolier Hill tomorrow to have a look at this gentleman.  'One thing is

for sure, said Jane Berg indistinctly, a gentleman, he is not.

The road down to Bandolier Hill was heavily corrugated and thick with

white dust that rose in a banner behind the Land-Rover and hung in the

air long after they had passed.  The hill was rounded and thickly

timbered and stood over the main metalled highway.

The trading post was four or five hundred yards from the road junction,

set back amidst a grove of mango trees with their deep green and

glistening foliage.  It was a type found all over Africa, an unlovely

building of mud brick with a naked corrugated iron roof, the walls

plastered thickly with posters advertising goods from tea t o flashlight

batteries.

David parked the Land-Rover in the dusty yard beneath the raised stoop.

There was a faded sign above the front steps:

Bandolier Hill General Dealers.

At the side of the building was parked an old green Ford one-ton truck

with local licence plates.  In the shade of the stoop squatted a dozen

or so potential customers, African women from the tribal area, dressed

in long cotton print dresses, timeless in their patience and their

expressions showing no curiosity about the occupants of the Land-Rover.

One of the women was suckling her infant with an enormously elongated

breast that allowed the child to stand beside her and watch the

newcomers without removing the puckered black nipple from his mouth.

Set in the centre of the yard was a thick straight pole, fifteen feet

tall, and on top of the pole was a wooden structure like a dog kennel.

David exclaimed as from the kennel emerged a big brown furry animal.  it

descended the pole in one swift falling action, seemingly at lightly as

a bird, and the chain that was fastened to the pole at one end was, at

the other, buckled about the animal's waist by a thick leather strap.

It's one of the biggest old bull baboons I've ever seen.  Quickly he

described it to Debra, as the baboon moved out to the chain's limit, and

knuckled the ground as he made a leisurely circle about his pole, the

chain clinking as it swung behind him.  It was an arrogant display, and

he ruffled out the thick mane of hair upon his shoulders.

When he had completed the circle, he sat down facing the Land-Rover, in

a repellently humanoid attitude, and thrust out his lower jaw as he

regarded them through the small brown, close-set eyes.

A nasty beast, David told Debra.  He would weigh ninety pounds, with a

long dog-like muzzle and a jaw full of yellow fangs.  After the hyena,

he was the most hated animal of the veld, cunning, cruel and avaricious,

all the vices of man and none of his graces.  His stare was unblinking

and, every few seconds, he ducked his head in a quick aggressive

gesture.

While all David's attention was on the baboon, a man had come out of the

store and now leaned on one of the pillars of the veranda.

What can I do for you, Mr. Morgan?  he asked in a thick accent.  He was

tall and spare, dressed in slightly rumpled and not entirely clean khaki

slacks and openneck shirt, with heavy boots on his feet and braces

hooked into his pants, crossing his shoulders.

How did you know my name?  David looked up at him, and saw he was of

middle age with close-cropped greying hair over a domed skull.  His

teeth were badly fitting with bright pink plastic gums and his skin was

drawn over the bones of the cheeks, and his deep-set eyes gave him a

skull-like look.  He grinned at David's question.

Could only be you, scarred face and blind wife, you the new owner of

Jabulani.  Heard you built a new house and all set to live there now.

The man's hands were huge, out of proportion to the rest of his rangy

body, they were clearly very powerful and the lean muscles of his

forearms were as tough as rope.

He slouched easily against the pillar and took from his pocket a clasp

knife and a stick of black wind-dried meat, the jerky of North America,

boucan of the Caribbean, or the biltong of Africa, and he cut a slice as

though it were a plug of tobacco, popping it into his mouth.

Like I asked, what can we do for you?  he chewed noisily, his teeth

squelching at each bite.

I need nails and paint David climbed out of the Land-Rover.

Heard you did all your buying in Nelspruit Akkers looked him over with a

calculated insolence, studying David's ruined face with attention. David

saw that his deep-set eyes were a muddy green in colour.

I thought there was a law against caging or chaining wild animals.

Akkers had roused David's resentment almost immediately, and the needle

showed in his tone.

Akkers began to grin again easily, still chewing.  You a lawyer, are

you?  'Just asking.  'I got a permit, you want to see it?  David shook

his head, and turned to speak to Debra in Hebrew.  Quickly he described

the man.

I think he can guess why we are here, and he's looking for trouble.

'I'll stay by the car, said Debra.  Good.  David climbed the steps to

the veranda.

What about the nails and paint?  he asked Akkers.

Go on in, he was still grinning.  I got a nigger helper behind the

counter.  He will look after you.  David hesitated and then walked on

into the building.

it smelled of carbolic soap and kerosene and maize meal.

The shelves were loaded with cheap groceries, patent medicines, blankets

and bolts of printed cotton cloth.

From the roof hung bunches of army surplus boots and greatcoats,

axe-beads and storm lanterns.  The floor was stacked with tin trunks,

pick handles, bins of flour and maize meal and the hundreds of other

items that traditionally make up the stock of the country dealer.

David found the African assistant and began his purchase.

outside in the sunlight Debra climbed from the Land Rover and leaned

lightly against the door.  The labrador scrambled down after her and

began sniffing the concrete pillars of the veranda with interest where

other dogs before him had spurted jets of yellow urine against the

white-washed plaster.

Nice dog, said Akkers.

Thank you.  Debra nodded politely.

Akkers glanced quickly across at his pet baboon, and his expression was

suddenly cunning.  A flash of understanding passed between man and

animal.  The baboon ducked its head again in that nervous gesture, then

it rose from its haunches and drifted back to the pole.  With a leap and

bound it shot up the pole and disappeared into the opening of its

kennel.

Akkers grinned and carefully cut another slice of the black biltong.

You like it out at Jabulani?  he asked Debra, and at the same time he

offered the scrap of dried meat to the dog.

We are very happy there, Debra replied stiffly, not wanting to be drawn.

Zulu sniffed the proffered titbit, and his tail beat like a metronome.

No dog can resist the concentrated meat smell and taste of biltong.  He

gulped it eagerly.  Twice more Akkers fed him the scraps, and Zulu's

eyes glistened and his soft silky muzzle was damp with saliva.

The waiting women in the shade of the veranda were watching with lively

interest now.  They had seen this happen before with a dog, and they

waited expectantly.

David was in the building, out of sight.  Debra stood blind and

unsuspecting.

Akkers cut a larger piece of the dried meat and offered it to Zulu, but

when he reached for it he pulled his hand away, teasing the dog.  With

his taste for biltong now firmly established, Zulu tried again for the

meat as it was offered.  Again it was pulled away at the last moment.

Zulu's black wet nose quivered with anxiety, and the soft ears were

cocked.

Akkers walked down the steps with Zulu following him eagerly, and at the

bottom he showed the dog the biltong once more, letting him sniff it.

Then he spoke softly but urgently, Get it, boy, and threw the scrap of

biltong at the base of the baboon's pole.  Zulu bounded forward, still

slightly clumsy on his big puppy paws, into the circle of the chain

where the baboon's paws had beaten the earth hard.  He ran on under the

pole and grubbed hungrily for the biltong in the dust.

The bull baboon came out of his kennel like a tawny grey blur and

dropped the fifteen feet through the air; his limbs were spread and his

jaws were open in a snarl like a great red trap, and the fangs were

vicious, long and yellow and spiked.  He hit the ground silently, and

his muscles bunched as they absorbed the shock and hurled the long lithe

body feet first at the unsuspecting pup.  The baboon crashed into him,

taking him on the shoulder with all the weight of his ninety pounds.

Zulu went down and over, rolling on his back with a startled yelp, but

before he could find his feet or his wits, the baboon was after him.

Debra heard the pup cry, and started forward, surprised but not yet

alarmed.

As he lay on his back, Zulu's belly was unprotected, sparsely covered

with the silken black hair, the immature penis protruding pathetically,

and the baboon went onto him in a crouching leap, pinning him with

powerful furry legs as he bowed his head and buried the long yellow

fangs deep into the pup's belly.

Zulu screamed in dreadful agony, and Debra screamed in sympathy and ran

forward.

Akkers shot out a foot as she passed him and tripped her, sending her

sprawling on her hands and knees.

Leave it, lady, he warned her, still grinning.  You'll get hurt if you

interfere.  The baboon locked its long curved eye teeth into the tender

belly, and then hurled the pup away from it with all the fierce strength

of its four limbs.  The thin wall of the stomach was ripped through, and

the purple ropes of the entrails came out, hanging festooned in the

baboon's jaws.

Again the disembowelled pup screamed, and Debra rolled blindly to her

feet.

David!  she cried wildly.  David, help me!  David came out of the

building running; pausing in the doorway he took in the scene at a

glance and snatched up a pick handle from the pile by the door.  He

jumped off the veranda, and in three quick strides he had reached the

pup.

The baboon saw him coming and released Zulu.  With uncanny speed, he

whirled and leapt for the pole, racing upwards to perch on the roof of

the kennel, his jowls red with blood, as he shrieked and jabbered,

bouncing up and down with excitement and triumph.

David dropped the pick and gently lifted the crawling crippled black

body.  He carried Zulu to the Land-Rover and ripped his bush jacket into

strips as he tried to bind up the torn belly, pushing the hanging

entrails back into the hole with his fist.

David, what is it?  Debra pleaded with him, and as he worked he

explained it in a few terse Hebrew sentences.

Get in, he told her and she clambered into the passenger seat of the

Land-Rover.  He laid the injured labrador in her lap, and ran around to

the driver's seat.

Akkers was back at the doorway of his shop, standing with his thumbs

hooked into his braces, and he was laughing.  The false teeth clucked in

the open mouth as he laughed, rocking back and forth on his heels.

On its kennel the baboons shrieked and cavorted, sharing its master's

mirth.

Hey, Mr. Morgan, Akkers giggled, don't forget your nails!

David swung round to face him, his face felt tight and hot, the

cicatrice that covered his cheeks and forehead were inflamed and the

dark blue eyes blazed with a terrible anger.  He started up the steps.

His mouth was a pale hard slit, and his fists were clenched at his

sides.

Akkers stepped backwards swiftly and reached behind the shop counter. He

lifted out an old double-barrelled shotgun, and cocked both hammers with

a sweep of his thick bony thumb.

Self defence, Mr. Morgan, with witnesses, he giggled with sadistic

relish.  Come one step closer and we will get a look at your guts also.

David paused at the top of the steps, and the gun held in one huge fist,

pointed at his belly.

David, hurry, oh, please hurry, Debra called anxiously from the

Land-Rover, with the weak squirming body of the pup in her lap.

We'll meet again, David's anger had thickened his tongue.

That will be fun, said Akkers, and David turned away and ran down the

steps.

Akkers watched the Land-Rover pull away and swing into the road in a

cloud of dust, before he set the shotgun aside.  He went out into the

sunlight, and the baboon scrambled down from its pole and rushed to meet

him.

It jumped up on to his hip and clung to him like a child.

Akkers took a boiled sweet from his pocket and placed it tenderly

between the terrible yellow fangs.

You lovely old thing, he chuckled, scratching the high cranium with its

thick cap of grey fur and the baboon squinted up at his face with narrow

brown eyes, chattering softly.

Despite the rough surface, David covered the thirty miles back to

Jabulani in twenty-five minutes.  He skidded the vehicle to a halt

beside the hangar, and ran with the pup in his arms to the aircraft.

During the flight Debra nursed him gently in her lap, and her skirts

were sodden with his dark blood.  The pup had quieted, and except for an

occasional whimper now lay still.  Over the W T David arranged for a car

to meet them at Nelspruit airfield and forty-five minutes after take-off

they had Zulu on the theatre table in the veterinary surgeon's clinic.

The veterinary surgeon worked with complete concentration for over two

hours at repairing the torn entrails and suturing the layers of

abdominal muscle.

The pup was so critically injured, and infection was such a real danger,

that they dared not return to Jabulani until it had passed.  Five days

later when they flew home with Zulu still weak and heavily strapped but

out of danger, David altered his flight path to bring them in over the

trading store at Bandolier Hill.

The iron roof shone like a mirror in the sun, and David felt his anger

very cold and hard and determined.

The man is a threat to us, he said aloud.  A real threat to each of us,

and to what we are trying to build at Jabulani.  Debra nodded her

agreement, stroking the pup's head and not trusting herself to speak.

Her own anger was as fierce as David's.  I'm going to get him, he said

softly, and he heard the Brig's voice in his memory.

The only excuse for violence is to protect that which belongs to you. He

banked steeply away and lined up for his approach to the landing-strip

at Jabulani.

Conrad Berg called again to sample the Old Buck gin, and to tell David

that his application to have Jabulani declared a private nature reserve

had been approved by the Board and that the necessary documentation

would soon be ready for signature.  Do you want me to pull the fence out

now.  'No, David answered grimly.  Let it stand.  I don't want Akkers

frightened off.  Ja, Conrad agreed heavily.  We have got to get him.  He

called Zulu to him and examined the scar that was ridged and shaped like

forked lightning across the pup's belly.  The bastard, 'he muttered, and

then glanced guiltily at Debra.

Sorry, Mrs. Morgan.  I I couldn't agree more, Mr. Berg, she said softly,

and Zulu watched her lips attentively when she spoke, his head cocked to

one side.

Like all young things, he had healed cleanly and quickly.

The morula grove that ran thickly along the base of

the hills about the String of Pearls came -into flower.

The holes were straight and sturdy, each crowned with a fully rounded,

many-branched head of dense foliage, and the red flowers made a royal

show.

Almost daily David and Debra would wander together through the groves,

down the rude track to the pools, and Zulu regained his strength on

these leisurely strolls which always culminated in a swim and a lusty

shaking off of water droplets, usually on to the nearest bystander.

Then the green plum-shaped fruits that covered the female marulas

thickly began to turn yellow as they ripened, and their yeasty smell was

heavy on the warm evening breeze.

The herd came up from the Sabi, forsaking the lush reed beds for the

promise of the morula harvest.  They were led by two old bulls, who for

forty years had made the annual pilgrimage to the String of Pearls, and

there were fifteen breeding cows with calves running at heel and as many

adolescents.

They moved up slowly from the south, feeding spread out, sailing like

ghostly grey galleons through the open bush, overloaded bellies

rumbling.  Occasionally a tall tree would catch the attention of one of

the bulls and he would place his forehead upon the thick trunk and,

swaying rhythmically as he built up momentum, he would strain suddenly

and bring it crackling and crashing down.  A few mouthfuls of the tender

tip leaves would satisfy him, or he might strip the bark and stuff it

Untidily into his mouth before moving on northwards.

When they reached Conrad Berg's fence the two bulls moved forward and

examined it, standing shoulder to shoulder as though in consultation,

fanning their great grey ears, and every few minutes picking up a large

pinch of sand in their trunks to throw over their own backs against the

worrisome attention of the stinging flies.

In forty years they had travelled, and knew exactly all the boundaries

of their reserve.  As they stood there contemplating the game fence, it

was as though they were fully aware that its destruction would be a

criminal act, and injurious to their reputations and good standing.

Conrad Berg was deadly serious when he discussed his elephants sense of

right and wrong with David.  He spoke of them like schoolboys who had to

be placed on good behaviour, and disciplined when they transgressed.

The Discipline might take the form of driving, darting with drugs, or

formal execution with a heavy rifle.  This ultimate punishment was

reserved for the incorrigibles who raided cultivated crops, chased

motor-cars or otherwise endangered human life.

Sorely tempted, the two old bulls left the fence and ambled back to the

breeding herd that waited patiently for their decision amongst the thorn

trees.  For three days the herd drifted back and forth along the fence,

feeding and resting and waiting, then suddenly the wind turned westerly

and it came to them laden with the thick, cloyingly sweet smell of the

morula berries.

David parked the Land-Rover on the firebreak road and laughed with

delight.

So much for Connie's fence!  " For reasons of pachyderm prestige, or

perhaps merely for the mischievous delight of destruction, no adult

elephant would accept the breach made by another.

Each of them had selected his own fence pole, hard wood uprights

embedded in concrete, and had effortlessly snapped it off level with the

ground.  Over a length of a mile the fence was flattened, and the wire

mesh lay across the firebreak.

Each elephant had used his broken pole like a tightrope, to avoid

treading on the sharp points of the barbed wire.  Then once across the

fence they had streamed in a tight bunch down to the pools to spend a

night in feasting, an elephantine gorge on the yellow berries, which

ended at dawn when they had bunched up into close order and dashed back

across the ruined fence into the safety of the Park, perhaps pursued by

guilt and remorse and hoping that Conrad Berg would lay the blame on

some other herd.

However, the downed fence provided ready access for many others who had

long hankered after the sweet untouched grazing and deep water holes.

Ugly little blue wildebeest with monstrous heads, absurdly warlike manes

and curved horns in imitation of the mighty buffalo.  Clowns of the

bush, they capered with glee and chased each other in circles.  Their

companions the zebra were more dignified, ignoring their antics, and

trotted in businesslike fashion down to the pools.  Their rumps were

striped and glossy and plump, their heads up and ears pricked.

Conrad Berg met David at the remains of his fence, climbing out of his

own truck and picking his way carefully over the wire.  Sam, the African

ranger, followed him.

Conrad shook his head as he surveyed the destruction, chuckling

ruefully.

It's old Mahommed and his pal One-Eye, I'd know that spoor anywhere.

They just couldn't help themselves, the bastards – He glanced quickly at

Debra in the Land-Rover.

That's perfectly all right, Mr. Berg, she forestalled his apology.

Sam had been casting back and forth along the soft break road and now he

came to where they stood.

Hello, Sam, David greeted him.  It had taken a lot of persuasion to get

Sam to accept that this terribly disfigured face belonged to the young

nkosi David who he had taught to track, and shoot and rob a wild beehive

without destroying the bees.

Sam saluted David with a flourish.  He took his uniform very seriously

and conducted himself like a guardsman now.  It was difficult to tell

his age, for he had the broad smooth moonface of the Nguni, the

aristocratic warrior tribes of Africa, but there was a frosting of

purest white on the close-curled hair of his temples under the slouch

hat, and David knew he had worked at Jabulani for forty years before

leaving.  The man must be approaching sixty years of age.

Quickly he made his report to Conrad, describing the animals and the

numbers which had crossed into Jabulani.

There is also a herd of buffalo, forty-three of them, Sam spoke in

simple Zulu that David could still follow.  They are the ones who drank

before Ripape Dam near Hlangulene.  That will bring Akkers running, the

sirloin of a young buffalo makes the finest biltong there is, Conrad

observed dryly.

How long will it be before he knows the fence is down?  David asked, and

Conrad fell into a long rapidfire discussion with Sam that lost David

after the first few sentences.  However, Conrad translated at the end.

Sam says he knows already, all your servants and their wives buy at his

store and he pays them for that sort of information.  It turns out that

there is bad blood between Sam and Akkers.  Sam suspects him of

arranging to have him beaten, on a lonely road on a dark night.

Sam was in hospital three months, he also accused Akkers of having his

hut fired to drive him off Jabulani.  'It adds up, doesn't it?  David

agreed.

Old Sam is dead keen to help us grab Akkers, and he has a plan of action

all worked out.  Let's hear it.  Well, as long as you are in residence

at Jabulani Akkers is going to restrict his activities to night poaching

with a killing lamp.  He knows every trick there is and we will never

get him.  So?  You must tell your servants that you are leaving for two

weeks, going to Cape Town on business.  Akkers will know as soon as you

leave and he will believe he has the whole of jabulam to himself, For an

hour more they discussed the details of the plan, then they shook hands

and parted.

As they drove back to the homestead they emerged from the open forest

into one of the glades of tall grass, and David saw the brilliant white

egrets floating like snow flakes over the swaying tops of golden grass.

Something in there, he said and cut the engine.  They waited quietly

until David saw the movement in the grass, the opening and closing at

the passage of heavy bodies.  Then three egrets, sitting in row, moved

slowly towards him, home on the back of a concealed beast as it grazed

steadily forward.

Ah, the buffalo!  David exclaimed as the first of them appeared, a great

black bovine shape.  It stopped as it saw the Land-Rover on the edge of

the trees and it regarded them intently from beneath the wide spread of

its horns, with its muzzle lifted high.  It showed no alarm for these

were Park animals, almost as tame as domestic cattle.

Gradually the rest of the herd emerged from the tall grass.  Each in

turn scrutinized the vehicle and then resumed feeding once more.  There

were forty-three of them, as Sam had predicted, and amongst them were

some fine old bulls standing five and a half feet tall at the shoulder

and weighing little less than 2000 lb.  Their horns were massively

bossed, meeting in the centre of the head and curving downwards and up

to blunt points, with a rugged surface that became polished black at the

tips.

Crawling over their heavy trunks and thick short legs were numbers of

ox-peckers, dull-plumaged birds with scarlet beaks and bright beady

eyes.  Sometimes head down they scavenged for the ticks and other

blood-sucking body vermin in the folds of skin between the limbs.

Occasionally one of the huge beasts would snort and leap, shaking and

swishing its tail, as a sharp beak pried into a delicate portion of its

anatomy, under the tail or around the heavy dangling black scrotum.  The

birds fluttered up with hissing cries, waited for the buffalo to calm

down and then settled again to their scurrying and searching.

David photographed the herd until the light failed, and they drove home

in the dark.

Before dinner David opened a bottle of wine and they drank it together

on the stoop, sitting close and listening to the night sounds of the

bush, the cries of the night birds, the tap of flying insects against

the wire screen and the other secret scurrying and rustling of small

animals.

Do you remember once I told you that you were spoiled, and not very good

marriage material?  Debra asked softly, nestling her dark head against

his shoulder.

I'll never forget it.  I'd like to withdraw that remark ron-nally, she

went on, and he moved her gently away so that he could study her face.

Sensing his eyes upon her she smiled, that shy little smile of hers.  I

fell in love with a little boy, a spoiled little boy, who thought only

of fast cars and the nearest skirt, she said, but now I have a man, a

grown man, she smiled again, and I like it better this way He drew her