When the Lion Feeds

Wilbur Smith - C1 When The Lion Feeds

A single wild pheasant FLEW up the side of the hill almost brushing the tips of the grass in its flight. It drooped its wings and hung its legs as it reached the crest and then dropped into cover. Two boys and a dog followed it up from the valley: the dog led, with his tongue flopping pink from the corner of his mouth, and the twins ran shoulder to shoulder behind him. Both of them were sweating in dark patches through their khaki shirts, for the African sun still had heat although it stood half-mast down the sky.

The dog hit the scent of the bird and it stopped him quivering: for a second he stood sucking it up through his nostrils, and then he started to quarter. He worked fast, back and forth, swinging at the end of each tack, his head down and only his back and his busy tail showing above the dry brown grass. The twins came up behind him. They were gasping for breath, for it had been a hard pull up the curve of the hill. Keep out to the side, you'll get in my way Sean panted at his brother and Garrick moved to obey. Sean was his senior by four inches in height and twenty pounds in weight: this gave him the right to command. Sean transferred his attention back to the dog. Put him up, Tinker. Seek him up, boy Tinker's tail acknowledged Sean's instructions, but he held his nose to the ground. The twins followed him, tensed for the bird to rise. They carried their throwing sticks ready and moved forward a stealthy pace at a time, fighting to control their breathing. Tinker found the bird crouched flat in the grass; he jumped forward giving tongue for the first time, and the bird rose. It came up fast on noisy wings, whirling out of the grass.

Sean threw; his kerrie whipped past it. The pheasant swung away from the stick, clawing at the air with frantic wings and Garrick threw. His kerrie cartwheeled up, hissing, until it smacked into the pheasant's fat brown body.

The bird toppled, feathers flurried from it and it fell. They went after it. The pheasant scurried broken-winged through the grass ahead Of them, and they shouted with excitement as they chased it. Sean got a hand to it. He broke its neck and stood laughing, holding the warm brown body in his hands, and waited for Garrick to reach him. Ring-a-ding-a-doody, Garry, you sure gave that one a beauty! Tinker jumped up to smell the bird and Sean stooped and held it so he could get his nose against it. Tinker snuffled it, then tried to take it in his mouth, but Sean pushed his head away and tossed the bird to Garrick. Garrick hung it with the others on his belt.

, How far do you reckon that was, fifty feet? Garrick asked. nOT as much as that Sean gave his opinion. More like thirty I reckon it was at least fifty. I reckon it was farther than any you've hit today. Success had made Garrick bold. The smile faded from Sean's face.

, Yeah? he asked.

, Yeah! SAid Garrick. Sean pushed the hair off his forehead with the back of his hand, his hair was black and soft and it kept falling into his eyes.

What about that one down by the river? That was twice as far. Yeah? asked Garrick.

Yeah! said Sean truculently. Well, if you're so good, how did you miss this one hey? You threw first. How come you missed, hey? Sean's already flushed face darkened and Garrick realized suddenly that he had gone too far. He took a step backwards.

You'd like to bet? demanded Sean. It was not quite clear to Garrick on what Sean wished to bet, but from past experience he knew that whatever it was the issue would be settled by single combat. Garrick seldom won bets from Sean. It's too late. We'd better be getting home. Pa will clobber us if we're late for dinner. Sean hesitated and Garrick turned, ran back to pick up his kerrie then set off in the direction of home. Sean trotted after him, caught up with him and passed him. Sean always led. Having proved conClusively his superior prowess with the throwing sticks Sean was prepared to be forgiving. Over his shoulder he asked, what colour do you Reckon Gypsy's foal will be?

Garrick accepted the peace-offering with relief and they fell into a friendly discussion of this and a dozen other equally important subjects. They kept running: except for an hour, when they had stopped in a shady place by the river to roast and eat a couple of their pheasants, they had run all day.

Up here on the plateau it was grassland that rose and fell beneath them as they climbed the low round hills and dropped into the valleys. The grass around them moved with the wind: waist-high grass, soft dry grass the colour of ripe wheat. Behind them and on each side the grassland rolled away to the full range of the eye, but suddenly in front of them was the escarpment. The land cascaded down into it, steeply at first then gradually levelling out to become the Tugela flats. The Tugela river was twenty miles away across the flats, but today there was a haze in the air so they could not see that far. Beyond the river, stretched far to the north and a hundred miles east to the sea, was Zululand. The river was the border. The steep side of the escarpment was cut by vertical gulleys and in the gulleys grew dense, olive-green bush.

Below them, two miles out on the flats, was the homestead of Theunis Kraal. The house was a big one, Dutchgabled and smoothly thatched with combed grass. There were horses in the small paddock: many horses, for the twins, father was a wealthy man. Smoke from the cooking fires blued the air over the servants quarters and the sound of someone chopping wood carried faintly up to them.

Sean stopped on the rim of the escarpment and sat down in the grass. He took hold of one of his grimy bare feet and twisted it up into his lap. There was a hole in the ball of his heel from which he had pulled a thorn earlier in the day and now it was plugged with dirt. Garrick sat down next to him. Man, is that going to hurt when Ma puts iodine on itV gloated Garrick. She'll have to use a needle to get the dirt out. I bet you yell, I bet you yell your head off!

Sean ignored him. He picked a stalk of grass and started probing it into the wound. Garrick watched with interest.

Twins could scarcely have been less alike. Sean was already taking on the shape of a man: his shoulders were thickening, and there was hard muscle forming in his puppy fat. His colouring was vivid: black hair, skin brown from the sun, lips and cheeks that glowed with the fresh young blood beneath their surface, and blue eyes, the dark indigo-blue of cloud shadow on mountain lake.

Garrick was slim, with the wrists and ankles of a girl.

His hair was an undecided brown that grew wispy down the back of his neck, his skin was freckled, his nose and the rims of his pale blue eyes were pink with persistent hay fever. He was fast losing interest in Sean's surgery. He reached across and fiddled with one of Tinker's pendulous ears, and this broke the rhythm of the dog's panting; he gulped twice and the saliva dripped from the end of his tongue. Garrick lifted his head and looked down the slope.

A little below where they were sitting was the head of one of the bushy gullies. Garrick caught his breath.

Sean, look there, next to the bush! His whisper trembled with excitement.

What's it! Sean looked up startled. Then he saw it. Hold Tinker. Garrick grabbed the dog's collar and pulled his head around to prevent him seeing and giving chase. He's the biggest old inkonka in the world, breathed Garrick. Sean was too absorbed to answer.

The bushbuck was picking its way warily out of the thick cover. A big ram, black with age; the spots on his haunches were faded like old chalk marks. his ears pricked up and his spiral horns held high, big as a pony, but stepping daintily, he came out into the open. He stopped and swung his head from side to side, searching for danger, thEn he trotted diagonally down the hill and disappeared into another of the gullies. For a moment after he had gone the twins were still, then they burst out together. Did you see him, hey, did you see them horns? So close to the house and we never knew he was there -They scrambled to their feet jabbering at each other, and Tinker was infected with their excitement. He barked around them in a circle. After the first few moments of confusion Sean took control simply by raising his voice above the opposition. I bet he hides up in the gulley every day. I bet he stays there all dAy and comes out only at night. Let's go and have a look.

Sean led the way down the slope.

On the fringe of the bush, in a small cave of vegetation that was dark and cool and carpeted with dead leaves, they found the ram's hiding-P'lace. The ground was trampled by his hooves and scattered with his droppings and there was the mark of his body where he had lain. A few loose hairs, tipped with grey, were left on the bed of leaves. Sean knelt down and picked one up. How are we going to get him? We could dig a hole and put sharpened sticks in it, suggested Garrick eagerly.

Who's going to dig it, you? Sean asked.

, You could help. it would have to be a pretty big hole, said Sean doubtfully. There was silence while both of them considered the amount of labour involved in digging a trap. Neither of them mentioned the idea again. We could get the other kids from town and have a drive with kerries, said Sean. How many hunts have we been on with them? Must be hundreds by now, and we haven't even bagged one lousy duiker, let alone a bushbuck. Garrick hesitated and then went on. Besides, remember what that inkonka did to Frank van Essen, hey? When it finished sticking him they had to push all his guts back into the hole in his stomach!

, Are you scared? asked Sean. I am not, so! said Garrick indignantly, then quickly, Gee, its almost dark.

We'd better run.

They went down the valley.

Sean lay in the darkness and stared across the room at the grey Oblong of the window. There was a slice of moon in the sky outside. Sean could not sleep: he was thinking about the bushbuck. He heard his parents pass the door of the bedroom; his stepmother said something and his father laughed: Waite Courtney had a laugh as deep as distant thunder.

Sean heard the door of their room close and he sat up in bed. Garry. No answer. Garry He picked up a boot and threw it; there was a grunt. Garry.

What you want? Garrick's voice was sleepy and irritable. I was just thinking, tomorrow's Friday SO? Ma and Pa will be going into town. They'll be away all day. We could take the shotgun and go lay for that old inkonka Garrick's bed creaked with alarm. You're mad! Garrick could not keep the shock out of his voice. Pa would kill us if he caught us with the shotgun. Even as he said it he knew he would have to find a stronger argument than that to dissuade his brother. Sean avoided punishment if possible, but a chance at a bushbuck ram was worth all his father's right arm could give.

Garrick lay rigid in his bed, searching for words. Besides, Pa keeps the cartridges locked up it was a good try, but Sean countered it.

I know where there are, two buckshots that he has forgotten about: they're in the big vase in the dining-room. They've been there over a month.

Garrick was sweating. He could almost feel the siambok curling round his buttocks, and hear his father counting the strokes: eight, nine, ten.

Please, Sean, let's think of something else.....

Across the room Sean settled back comfortably on his pillows. The decision had been made.

Waite Courtney handed his wife UP into the front seat of the buggy. He patted her arm affectionately then walked around to the driver's side, Pausing to fondle the horses and settle his hat down over his bald head. He was a big man the buggy dipped under his weight as he climbed up into the seat. He gathered up the reins, then he turned and his eyes laughed over his great hooked nose at the twins standing together on the veranda. I would esteem it a favour if you two gentlemen could arrange to stay out of trouble for the few hours that your mother and I will be away Yes, Pa, in dutiful chorus. Sean, if You get the urge to climb the big blue gum tree again then fight it, man fight itAll right, Pa. Garrick, let us have no more experiments in the manufacture of gunpowder, agreed? Yes, PaAnd don't look so innocent. That really frightens the hell out of me!

Waite touched the whip to the shiny round rumps in front of him and the buggy started forward, out along the road to Lady-burg. He didn't say anything about not taking the shotgun whispered Sean virtuously. Now you go and see if all the servants are out of the way, if they see us, they'll kick up a fuss. Then come round to the bedroom window and I'll pass it out to you Sean and Garrick argued all the way to the foot of the escarpment. Sean was carrying the shotgun across one shoulder, hanging onto the butt with both hands.

It was my idea, wasn't it! he demanded. But I saw the inkonka first, protested Garrick. Garrick was bold again: with every yard put between him and the house his fear of reprisal faded. That doesn't count, Sean informed him. I thought of the shotgun, so I do the shooting. How come you always have the fun? asked Garrick, and Sean was outraged at the question.

When you found the hawk's nest by the river, I let you climb for it. Didn't I? When you found the baby duiker, I let you feed it. Didn't I? he demanded.

, All right. So I saw the inkonka first, why don't you let me take the shot?

Sean was silent in the face of such stubbornness, but his grip on the butt of the shotgun tightened. In order to win the argument Garrick would have to get it away from him, this Garrick knew and he started to sulk. Sean stopped among the trees at the foot of the escarpment and looked over his shoulder at his brother. Are you going to help, or must I do it alone? Garrick looked down at the ground and kicked at a twig. He sniffed wetly; his hay-fever was always bad in the mornings. Well? asked Sean. What do you want me to do? Stay here and count to a thousand Slowly.

I'm going to circle up the slope and wait where the inkonka crossed yesterday. When You finish counting Come UP the gulley.

Start shouting when you are about halfway up. The inkonka will break the same way as yesterday, all right?

Garrick nodded reluctantly. Did you bring Tinker's chain? Garrick pulled it from his pocket, and at the sight of it the dog backed away. Sean grabbed his collar, and Garrick slipped it on. Tinker laid his ears flat and looked at them reproachfully.

Don't let him go. That old inkonka will rip him up.

Now start counting, said Sean and began climbing. He kept well out to the left of the gulley. The grass on the slope was slippery under his feet the gun was heavy and there were sharp lumps of rock in the grass. He stubbed his toe and it started to bleed, but he kept on upwards.

There was a dead tree on the edge of the bush that Sean had used to mark the bushbuck's hide. Sean climbed above it and stopped just below the crest of the slope where the moving grass would break up the silhouette of his head on the skyline. He was panting. He found a rock the size of a beer barrel to use as a rest for the gun, and he crouched behind it. He laid the stock of the gun on the rock, aimed back down the hill and traversed the barrels left and right to make sure his field of fire was clear. He iMAgined the bushbuck running in his sights and he felt excitement shiver along his forearms, across his shoulders and up the back of his neck. I won't lead on him, he'll be moving fairly slowly, trotting most probably. I'll go straight at his shoulders, he whispered.

He opened the gun, took the two cartridges out of his shirt pocket, slid them into the breeches and snapped the gun closed. It took all the strength of both his hands to pull back the big fancy hammers, but he managed it and the gun was double-loaded and cocked. He laid it on the rock in front of him again and stared down the slope. On his left the gulley was a dark-green smear on the hillside, directly below him was open grass where the bushbuck would cross. He pushed impatiently at the hair on his forehead: it was damp with sweat and stayed up out of his eyes.

The minutes drifted by.

rWhat the hell is Garry doing? He's so stupid sometimes! Sean muttered and almost in answer he heard Garrick shout below him. It was a small sound, far down the slope and muffled by the bush. Tinker barked once without enthusiasm; he was also Sulking, he didn't like the chain. Sean waited with his forefinger on one trigger, staring down at the edge of the bush. Garrick shouted again, and the bushbuck broke from cover.

it came fast into the open with its nose up and its long horns held flat against its back. Sean moved his body sideways swinging the gun with its run, riding the pip of the foresight on its black shoulder. He fired the left barrel and the recoil threw him off balance; his ears hummed with the shot and the burnt powder smoke blew back into his face. He struggled to his feet still holding the gun. The bushbuck was down in the grass, bleating like a lamb and kicking as it died. I got him, screamed Sean. I got him first shot! Garry, Garry! I got him, I got him!

Tinker came pelting out of the bush dragging Garry behind him by the chain and, still screaming, Sean ran down to join them. A stone rolled under his foot and he fell. The shotgun flew out of his hand and the second barrel fired. The sound of the explosion was very loud.

When Sean scrambled onto his feet again Garrick was sitting in the grass whimpering,-whimpering and staring at his leg. The blast of the shotgun had smashed into it and churned the flesh below the knee into tatters, bursting it open so the bone chips showed white in the wound and the blood pumped dark and strong and thick as custard. I didn't mean it.... Oh God, Garry, I didn't mean it. I slipped. Honest, I slipped. Sean was staring at the leg also. There was no colour in his face, his eyes were big and dark with horror. The blood pumped out onto the grass.

Stop it bleeding! Sean, please stop it. Oh, it's sore Oh!

Sean, please stop itV Sean stumbled across to him. He wanted to vomit. He unbuckled his belt and strapped it round the leg and the blood was warm and sticky On his hands. He used his sheathed knife to twist the belt tight. The pumping slowed and he twisted harder. Oh, Sean, it's sore! It's sore. Garrick's face was waxy-white and he was starting to shiver as the cold hand of shock closed on him. I'll get Joseph, Sean stammered. We'll come back quickly as we can. Oh, God, I'm sorry! Sean jumped up and ran. He fell, rolled to his feet and kept running.

They came within an hour. Sean was leading three of the Zulu servants. Joseph, the cook, had brought a blanket. He wrapped Garrick and lifted him and Garrick fainted as his leg swung loosely. As they started back down the hill, Sean looked out across the flats: there was a little puff of dust on the Lady-burg road. One Of the grooms was riding to fetch Waite Courtney.

They were waiting on the veranda of the homestead when Waite Courtney, came back to Theunis Kraal. Garrick was conscious again. He lay on the couch: his face was white and the blood had soaked through the blanket.

There was blood on Joseph's uniform and blood had dried black on Sean's hands. Waite Courtney ran up onto the veranda; he stooped over Garrick and drew back the blanket. For a second he stood staring at the leg and then very gently he covered it again.

Waite lifted Garrick and carried him down to the buggy.

Joseph went with him and they settled Garrick on the back seat. Joseph held his body and Garrick's stepmother took the leg on her lap to stop it twisting. Waite Courtney climbed quickly into the driver's seat: he picked up the reins, then he turned his head and looked at Sean still Standing on the veranda. He didn't speak, but his eyes were terrible, Sean could not meet them. Waite Courtney used the whip on the horses and drove them back along the road to Lady-burg: he drove furiously with the wind streaming his beard back from his face.

Sean watched them go. After they had disappeared among the trees he remained standing alone on the veranda; then suddenly he turned and ran back through the house. He ran out of the kitchen door and across the yard to the saddle-room, snatched a bridle down from the rack and ran to the paddock. He picked a bay mare and worked her into a corner of the fence until he could slip his arm around her neck. He forced the bit into her mouth, buckled the chin strap and swung up onto her bare back.

He kicked her into a run and put her to the gate, swaying back as her body heaved up under him and falling forward on her neck as she landed. He gathered himself and turned her head towards the Lady-burg road.

It was eight miles to town and the buggy reached it before Sean. He found it outside Doctor Van Rooyen's surgery: the horses were blowing hard, and their bodies were dark with sweat. Sean slid down off the mare's back; he went up the steps to the surgery door and quietly pushed it open. There was the sweet reek of chloroform in the room. Garrick lay on the table, Waite and his wife stood on each side of him, and the doctor was washing his hands in an enamel basin against the far wall. Ada Courtney was crying silently, her face blurred with tears.

They all looked at Sean standing in the doorway. Come here, said Waite Courtney, his voice flat and expressionless. Come and stand here beside me. They're going to cut off your brother's leg and, by Christ, I'm going to make you watch every second of itV

They brought Garrick back to Theunis Kraal in the night.

Waite Courtney drove the buggy very slowly and carefully and Sean trailed a long way behind it. He was cold in his thin khaki shirt, and sick in the stomach with what he had seen. There were bruises on his upper arm where his father had held him and forced him to watch.

The servants had lanterns burning on the veranda. They were standing in the shadows, silent and anxious. As Waite carried the blanket-wrapped body up the front steps one of them called softly in the Zulu tongue. The leg?

It is gone, Waite answered gruffly.

They sighed softly all together and the voice called again. He is well? He is alive, said Waite.

He carried Garrick through to the room that was set aside for guests and sickness. He stood in the centre of the floor holding the boy while his wife put fresh sheets on the bed; then he laid him down and covered him.

Is there anything else we can do? asked Ada. We can wait. Ada groped for her husband's hand. Please, God, let him live, she whispered. He's so young It's Sean's fault! Waite's anger flared up suddenly. Garry would never have done it On his own. He tried to disengage Ada's hand.

What are You going to do? she asked. I'm going to beat him! I'm going to thrash the skin off him! Don't, please don't! What do you mean? He had enough. Didn't you see his face? Waite's shoulders sagged wearily and he sat down on the armchair beside the bed. Ada touched his cheek. I'll stay here with Garry. You go and try to get some sleep, my dear. No, Waite said. She sat down on the side of the chair and Waite put his arm around her waist. After a long while they slept, huddled together on the chair beside the bed.

The days that followed were bad. Garrick's mind escaped from the harness of sanity and ran wild into the hot land of delirium. He panted and twisted his fever-flushed face from side to side; he cried and whimpered in the big bed; the stump of his leg puffed up angrily and the stitches were drawn so tight it seemed they must tear out of the swollen flesh. The infection oozed yellow and foul-smelling onto the sheets.

Ada stayed by him all that time. She swabbed the sweat from his face and changed the dressings on his stump, she held the glass for him to drink and gentled him when he raved. Her eyes sunk darkly into their sockets with fatigue and worry, but she would not leave him. Waite could not bear it. He had the masculine dread of suffering that threatened to suffocate him if he stayed in the room: every half hour or so he came in and stood next to the bed and then he turned away and went back to his restless wandering around the house. Ada could hear his heavy tramp along the corridors.

Sean stayed in the house also: he sat in the kitchen or at the far end of the veranda. No one would speak to him, not even the servants; they chased him when he tried to sneak into the bedroom to see Garrick. He was lonely with the desolate loneliness of the guilty, for Garry was going to die, he knew it by the evil silence that hung over Theunis Kraal. There was no chatter nor pot-clatter from the kitchens, no rich deep laughter from his father: even the dogs were subdued. Death was at Theunis Kraal. He could smell it on the soiled sheets that were brought through to the kitchen from Garrick's room; it was a musky smell, the smell of an animal. Sometimes he could almost see it: even in bright daylight sitting on the veranda. he sensed it crouched near him like a shadow on the edge of his vision. it had no form as yet. It was a darkness, a coldness that was gradually building up around the house, gathering its strength until it could take his brother.

On the third day Waite Courtney came roaring out of Garrick's room. He ran through the house and out into the stable yard. Karlie! Where are you? Get a saddle onto Rooiberg! Hurry, man, hurry, damn you. He's dying, do you hear me, he's dying! Sean did not move from where he sat against the wall next to the back door. His arm tightened around Tinker's neck and the dog touched his cheek with a cold nose; he watched his father jump up onto the stallion's back and ride. The hooves beat away towards Lady-burg and when they were gone he stood up and slipped into the house: he listened outside Garrick's door and then he opened it quietly and went in. Ada turned towards him, her face was tired. She looked much older than her thirty-five years, but her black hair was drawn back behind her head into a neat bun and her dress was fresh and clean. she was still a beautiful woman despite her exhaustion- There was a gentleness about her, a goodness that suffering and worry could not destroy. She held out her hand to Sean and he crossed and stood beside her chair and looked down at Garrick. Then he knew why Ins father had gone to fetch the doctor. Death was in the room, strong and icy cold hovered over the bed. Garrick lay very still: his face was yellow, his eyes were closed and his lips were cracked and dry.

the loneliness and the guilt came swelling up into Sean's throat and choked him into sobs, sobs that forced him to his knees and he put his face into Ada's lap and cried. He cried for the last time in his life, he cried as a man cries, painfully, each sob tearing something inside him.

Waite Courtney came back from Lady-burg with the doctor. Once more Sean was driven out and the door closed. That night he heard them working in Garrick's room, the murmuring of their voices and the scuff of feet on the yellow wood floor. In the morning it was over. The fever was broken and Garrick was alive. Only just alive his eyes were sunk into dark holes like those of a skull.

His body and his mind were never to recover completely from that brutal pruning.

It was slow, a week before he was strong enough to feed himself. His first need was for his brother, before he was able to talk above a whisper it was, Where's Sean? And Sean, still chastened, sat with him for hours at a time. Then when Garrick slept Sean escaped from the room, and with a fishing-rod or his hunting sticks and Tinker barking behind him went into the veld. It was a measure of Sean's repentance that he allowed himself to be contained within the sick-room for such long periods.

It chafed him like ropes on a young colt: no one would ever know what it cost him to sit quietly next to Garrick's bed while his body itched and burned with unexpended energy and his mind raced restlessly.

Then Sean had to go back to school. He left on a Monday morning while it was still dark. Garrick listened to the sounds of departure, the whicker of the horses outside on the driveway and Ada's voice reciting last minute instructions: I've put a bottle of cough mixture under your shirts, give it to Friulein as soon as you unpack.

Then she'll see that you take it at the first sign of a cold. Yes, Ma. There are six vests in the small case, use a new one every day. Vests are sissy things u will do as you're told, Young man. Waite's voice, Hurry up with your porridge, we've got to get going if I'm to have u in town by seven o'clock. Can I say goodbye to Garry? You said goodbye last night, he'll still be asleep now. Garrick opened his mouth to call out, but he knew his voice would not carry. He lay quietly and listened to the chairs scraping back from the dining-room table, the procession of footsteps out onto the veranda, voices raised in farewells and at last the wheels of the buggy crunching gravel as they moved away down the drive. it was very quiet after Sean had left with his father.

After that the weekends were, for Garrick, the only bright spots in the colourless passage of time. He longed for them to come and each one was an eternity after the last, time passes slowly for the young and the sick. Ada and Waite knew a little of how he felt. They moved the centre of the household to his room: they broughtt two of the fat leather armchairs from the lounge and put them on each side of his bed and they spent the evenings there.

Waite with his pipe in his mouth and a glass of brandy at his elbow, whittling at the wooden leg he was making and laughing his deep laugh, Ada with her knitting and the two of them trying to reach him. Perhaps it was this conscious effort that was the cause of their failure, or perhaps it is impossible to reach back down the years to a small boy. There is always that reserve, that barrier between the adult and the secret world of youth. Garrick laughed with them and they talked together, but it was not the same as having Sean there. During the day Ada had the running of a large household and there were fifteen thousand acres of land and two thousand head of cattle that needed Waite's attention. That was the loneliest time for Garrick. if it had not been for the books, he. might not have been able to bear it. He read everything that Ada brought to him: Stevenson, Swift, Defoe, Dickens and even Shakespeare. Much of it he didn't understand, but he read hungrily and the Opium Of the printed word helped him through the long days until Sean came home each Friday.

When Sean came home it was like a big wind blowing through the house. Doors slammed, dogs barked, servants scolded and feet clattered up and down the passages. Most of the noise was Sean's, but not all of it. There were Sean's followers: youngsters from his class at the village school.

They accepted Sean's authority as willingly as did Garrick, and it was not only Sean's fists that won this acceptance but also the laughter and the sense of excitement that went with him. They came out to Theunis Kraal in droves that summer, sometimes as many as three on one bare-backed pony: sitting like a row of sparrows on a fence rail. They came for the added attraction of Garry's stump.

Sean was very proud of it. That's where the doc sewed it up, pointing to the row of stitch marks along the pink fold of scar tissue. Can I touch it, man? Not too hard or it'll burst open.

Garrick had never received attention like this in his life before. He beamed round the circle of solemn, wide-eyed faces. It feels funny, sort of hot. Was it sore? How did he chop the bone, with an axe? No. Sean was the only one in a position to answer technical questions of this nature. With a saw. just like a piece of wood. He made the motions with his open hand.

But even this fascinating subject couldn't hold them for long and presently there would be a restlessness amongst them. Hey, Sean, Karl and I know where there's a nest of squawkers, you wanta have a look? or Let's go and catch frogs, and Garrick would cut in desperately.

You can have a look at my stamp collection if you like.

It's in the cupboard there. Now, we saw it last week. Let's go. This was when Ada, who had been listening to the conversation through the open kitchen door, brought in the food. Koeksusters fried in honey, chocolate cakes with peppermint icing, watermelon konfyt and half a dozen other delicacies.

She knew they wouldn't leave until it was finished and she knew also that there'd be upset stomachs when it was, but that was preferable to Garrick lying alone and listening to the others riding off into the hills.

The weekends were short, gone in a breathless blur.

Another long week began for Garrick. There were eight of them, eight dreary weeks before Doctor Van Rooyen agreed to let him sit out on the veranda during the day.

Then suddenly the prospect of being well again became a reality for Garrick. The leg that Waite was making was nearly finished: he shaped a leather bucket to take the stump and fitted it to the wood with flat-headed copper nails; he worked carefully, moulding the leather and adjusting the straps that would hold it in place. Meanwhile, Garrick exercised along the veranda, hopping beside Ada with an Arm around her shoulder, his jaws clenched with concentration and the freckles very prominent on his face that had been without the sun for so long. Twice a day Ada sat on a cushion in front of Garrick's chair and massaged the stump with methylated spirits to toughen it for its first contact with the stiff leather bucket. I bet old Sean will be surprised, hey? When he sees me walking around. Everyone will, Ada agreed. She looked up from his leg and smiled. Can't I try it now? Then I can go out fishing with him when he comes on Saturday. You mustn't expect too much, Garry, it's not going to be easy at first. You will have to learn to use it. Like riding a horse, you remember how often you fell off before you learned to ride? But can I start now? Ada reached for the spirits bottle, Poured a little into her cupped hand and spread it on the stump. We'll have to wait until Doctor Van Rooyen tells us you're ready. It won't be long now It wasn't. After his next visit Doctor Van Rooyen spoke to Waite as they walked together to the doctor's trap. You can try him with the peg-leg, it'll give him something to work for. Don't let him overtire himself and watch the stump doesn't get rubbed raw. We don't want another infection. Peg-leg. Waite's mind echoed the ugly word as he watched the trap out of sight. Peg-leg': he clenched his fists at his sides, not wanting to turn and see the pathetically eager face behind him on the veranda.

The you sure thats comfortable! Waite squatted in front of Garrick's chair adjusting the leg and Ada stood next to him. Yes, yes, let me try it now. Gee, old Sean will be surprised , hey? I'll be able to go back with him on Monday, wont I? Garrick was trembling with eagerness.

, We'll see Waite grunted noncommittally. He stood up and moved round beside the chair.

, Ada, my dear, take his other arm. Now listen, Garry! I want you to get the feel of it first. We'll help you up and you can just stand on it and get your balance. Do you understand?

Garrick nodded vigorously.

, All right, then up you come. Garrick drew the leg towards him and the tip scraped across the wooden floor. They lifted him and he put his weight on it.

, Look at me, I'm standing on it. Hey, look I'm standing on it His face glowed. Let me walk, come on, Let me walk. Ada glanced at her husband and he nodded. Together they led Garrick forward. He stumbled twice but they held him. Klunk and klunk again the peg rang on the floor boards. Before they reached the end of the veranda Garrick had learned to lift the leg high as he swung it forward.

on the way back They turned and he stumbled only once to the chair.

That's fine, Garry, you're doing fine laughed Ada.

You'll be on your own in no time, Waite grinned! with relief. He had hardly dared to hope it would be so easy, and Garrick fastened on his words. Let me stand on my own now. Not this time, boy, you've done well enough for one day. Oh, gee, Pa. Please. I won't try and walk, I'll just stand.

You and Ma can be ready to catch me. Please, Pa, please. Waite hesitated and Ada added her entreaty. Let him, dear, he's done so well. It'll help build up his confidence, Very well. But don't try to move, Waite agreed.

Are you ready, Garry? Let him go! They took their hands off him cautiously. He teetered slightly and their hands darted back. I'm all right, leave me. He grinned at them confidently and once more they released him. He stood straight and steady for a moment and then he looked down at the ground. The grin froze on his face. He was alone on a high mountain, Ins stomach turned giddily within him and he was afraid, desperately unreasonably afraid. He lurched violently and the first shriek tore from him before they could hold him. I'm falling. Take it off! Take it off!

They sat him in the chair with one swift movement. Take it off! I'm going to fall! The terrified screams racked Waite as he tore at the straps that held the leg.

it's off, Garry, you're safe. I'm holding you. Waite took him to his chest and held him, trying to quieten him with the strength of his arms and the security of his own big body, but Garrick's terrified struggling and his shrieks continued.

Take him to the bedroom, get him inside Ada spoke and Waite ran with him, still holding him against his chest.

Then for the first time Garrick found his hiding-place.

At the moment when his terror became too great to bear he felt something move inside his head, fluttering behind his eyes like the wings of a moth. His vision greyed as though he was in a mist bank. The mist thickened and blotted out all sight and sound. It was warm in the mist and safe. No one could touch him here for it wrapped and protected him. He was safe.

I think he's asleep, Waite whispered to his wife, but there was a puzzled expression in his voice. He looked carefully at the boy's face and listened to his breathing. It happened so quickly though, it isn't natural.

And yet, and yet he looks all right Do you think, we should call the doctor2 Ada asked. No. Waite shook his head. I'll just cover him up and stay with him until he wakes. He woke in the early evening, sat up and smiled at them as though nothing had happened. Relaxed and shyly cheerful, he ate a big supper and no one mentioned the leg. It was almost as though Garrick had forgotten about it.

Sean came home on the following Friday afternoon. He had a black eye, not a fresh one; it was already turning green round the edges of the bruise. Sean was very reticent on the subject of how he had obtained it. He brought with him also a clutch of fly catchers, eggs which he gave to Garrick, a five red-lipped. snake in a cardboard box which Ada immediately condemned to death despite Sean's impassioned speech in its defence, and a bow carved from M'senga wood which was, in sean's opinion, the best wood for a bow.

His arrival wrought the usual change in the household of Theunis Kraal, more noise, more movement and more laughter.

There was a huge roast for dinner that evening, with potatoes baked in their jackets. These were seans favourite foods and he ate like a hungry python. Don't put so much in Your mouth, Waite remonstrated from the head of the table, but there was a fondness in his voice. It was hard not to show favouritism with his sons. Sean accepted the rebuke in the spirit it was given.Frikkie Oberholster's bitch had pups this week, six of them No, said Ada firmly. Gee, Ma, just one. You heard your mother, Sean poured gravy over his meat, cut a potato in half and lifted one piece to his mouth. It had been worth a try. He hadn't really expected them to agree. What did you learn this week? Ada asked. This was a nasty question. Sean had learned as much as was necessary to avoid trouble, no more. Oh, lots of things, he replied airily and then to change the subject. Have you finished Garry's new leg yet, Pa?

There was a silence. Garrick's face went expressionless and he dropped his eyes to his plate. Sean put the other half of the potato in his mouth and spoke around it.

If you have., me and Garry can go fishing up at the falls tomorrow. , Don't talk with your mouth full, snapped Waite with unnecessary violence. You've got the manners of a pig. Sorry, Pa, Sean muttered. The rest of the meal passed in uneasy silence and as soon as it finished Sean escaped to the bedroom. Garry went with him hopping along the passage with one hand on the wall to balance himself.

What's Pa so mad about? Sean demanded resentfully as soon as they were alone.

I don't know Garrick sat on the bed. Sometimes he just gets mad for nothing, you know that. Sean pulled his shirt off over his head, screwed it into a ball and threw it against the far wall.

$You'd better pick it up, else there'll be trOuble, Garrick warned mildly. Sean dropped his pants and kicked them after the shirt. This show of defiance put him in a better mood. He walked across and stood naked in front of Garrick.

, Look he said with pride. Hairs! hairs.

Garrick inspected them. indisputably they were hairs.

, There aren't very many. Garrick couldn't disguise the envy in his voice. I bet I've got more than you have, Sean challenged, Let's count them. But Garrick knew himself to be an outright loser; he slipped off the bed and hopped across the room. Steadying himself against the wall he stooped and picked up Sean's discarded clothing he brought it back and dropped it in the soiled linen basket beside the door. Sean watched him and it reminded him of his unanswered question. Has Pa finished your leg yet, Garry?

Garry turned slowly, he swallowed and nodded once, a quick jerky movement. What's it like? Have you tried it yet?

The fear was on Garrick again. He twisted his face from side to side as though seeking an escape. There were footsteps in the passage outside the door. Sean dived at his bed and snatching up his nightgown pulled it over his head as he slid between the sheets. Garrick was still standing beside the clothes basket when Waite Courtney came into the room. Come on, Garry, what's holding you up?

Garrick hurried across to his bed and Waite looked at Sean. Sean grinned at him with all the charm of his good looks and Waite's face softened into a grin also. Nice to have you home again, boy. It was impossible to be angry with Sean for long.

He reached out and took a handful of Sean's thick black hair. Now I don't want to hear any talking in here after the lamp's out, do you understand?

He tugged Sean's head from side to side gently, embarrassed by the strength of his feeling for his son. The next morning Waite Courtney rode back to the homestead for his breakfast when the sun was high. One of the grooms took his horse and led it away to the paddock and Waite stood in front of the saddle room and looked around him. He looked at the neat white posts of the paddock, at the well-swept yard, at his house filled with fine furniture. It was a good feeling to be rich, especially when you knew what it was like to be poor. Fifteen thousand acres of good grassland, as many cattle as the land would carry, gold in the bank. Waite smiled and started across the yard.

He heard Ada singing in the dairy. How rides the farmer Sit, sit, so Sit, sit, so, tra la The Capetown girls say Kiss me quick Kiss me quick, tra la.

She had a clear sweet voice and Waite's smile broadened, it was a good feeling to be rich and to be in love.

He stopped at the door of the dairy; because of the thick stone walls and heavy thatch it was cool and dark in the room. Ada stood with her back to the door, her body moving in time to the song and the turning of the butter churn. Waite watched her a moment, then he walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

Startled, she turned within his arms and he kissed her on the mouth. Good morning, my pretty maid.

She relaxed against him. Good morning, sir, she said. What's for breakfast? Ah! what a romantic fool I married! She sighed, Come along, let's go and see. She took off her apron, hung it behind the door, patted her hair into place and held her hand out to him. They walked hand-in-hand across the yard and into the kitchen.

Waite sniffed loudly. Smells all right. Where are the boys? Joseph understood English though he could not speak it. He looked up from the stove. Nkosi, they are on the front veranda Joseph had the typical moon-round face of the Zulu, when he smiled his teeth were big and white against the black of his skin. They are playing with Nkosizana Garry's wooden leg Waite's face flushed. How did they find it? Nkosianq Sean asked me where it was and I told him you had put it in the linen cupboard You bloody fool! roared Waite. He dropped Ada's hand and ran. As he reached the lounge he heard Sean shout and immediately there was the sound of someone falling heavily on the veranda. He stopped in the middle of the lounge floor; he couldn't bear to go out and face Garrick's terror. He felt sick with dread and with his anger at Sean.

Then he heard Sean laugh. Get off me, man, don't just lie there. And then, incredibly, Garrick's voice. Sorry, it caught in the floor boards. Waite walked across to the window and looked out onto the veranda. Sean and Garrick lay in a heap together near the far end. Sean was still laughing and on Garrick's face was a set nervous smile. Sean scrambled up. Come on.

Get up.

He gave Garrick his hand and dragged him to his feet.

They stood clinging to each other, Garrick balancing precariously on his peg. I bet if it was me I could just walk easy as anything, said Sean.

, I bet you couldn't, it's jolly difficult. Sean let go of him and stood back with his arms spread ready to catch him. Come on. Sean walked backwards in front of him and Garrick followed unsteadily, his arms flapping out sideways as he struggled to keep his balance, his face rigid with concentration. He reached the end of the veranda and caught onto the rail with both hands. This time he joined in Sean's laughter.

Waite became aware that Ada was standing beside him; he glanced sideways at her and her lips formed the words come away. She took his arm.

At the end of June 1876 Garrick went back to school with Sean. It was almost four months since the shooting. Waite drove them. The road to Lady-burg was through open forest, two parallel tracks with the grass growing in between, it brushed the bottom of the buggy. The horses trotted in the tracks, their hooves silent on the thick powder dust. At the top of the first rise Waite slowed the horses and turned in his seat to look back at the homestead. The early sun gave the whitewashed walls of Theunis Kraal an orange glow and the lawns around the house were brilliant green. Everywhere else the grass was dry in the early winter and the leaves of the trees were dry also.

The sun was not yet high enough to rob the veld of its colour and light it only with the flat white glare of midday. The leaves were golden and russet and redbrown, the same red-brown as the bunches of Afrikander cattle that grazed among the trees. Behind it all was the back-drop of the escarpment, striped like a zebra with the green black bush that grew in its gullies. Look, there's a hoopoe, Sean! Yeah, I saw it long ago. That's a male. The bird flew up from in front of the horses. chocolate and black and white wings, its head crested like an Etruscan helmet.

How do you know? challenged Garrick.

"Cause of the white in its wings. They've all got white in their wings. They haven't, only the males. Well, all the ones I've seen got white in their wings, said Garrick dubiously. Perhaps you've never seen a female. They're jolly rare.

They don't come out of their nests much.

Waite Courtney smiled and turned back in his seat. Garry's right, Sean, you can't tell the difference by their feathers. The male's a little bigger, that's all.

, I told you, said Garrick, brave under his father's protection.

, You know everything, muttered Sean sarcastically. I suppose you read it in all those books, hey? there's the train. Garrick smiled complacently. Look, there It was coming down the escarpment, dragging a long grey plume of smoke behind it. Waite started the horses into a trot. They went down to the concrete bridge over the Baboon Stroom.

I saw a Yellow fish. It was a stick, I saw it too. The river was the boundary of Waite's land. They crossed the bridge and went up the other side. In front of them was Lady-burg. The train was running into the town past the cattle sale pens; it whistled and shot a puff of steam high into the air. The town was spread out, each house padded around by its orchard and garden. A thirty-six ox team could turn in any one of the wide streets. The houses were burnt brick or whitewashed, thatched or with corrugated-iron roofs painted green or dull red. The square was in the centre and the spire of the church was the hub of Lady-burg.

The school was on the far side of town.

Waite trotted the horses along Main Street. There were a few people on the side walks; they moved with early morning stiffness beneath the flamboyant trees that lined the street and every one of them called a greeting to Waite. He waved his whip at the men and lifted his hat to the women, but not high enough to expose the bald dome of his head. In the centre of town the shops were open, and standing on long thin legs in front of his bank was David Pye. He was dressed in black like an undertaker. Morning, Waite. Morning, David, called Waite a little too heartily. it was not six months since he had paid off the last mortgage on Theunis Kraal and the memory of debt was too fresh in his mind; he felt as embarrassed as a newly released prisoner meeting the prison governor on the street. Can you come in and see me after you've dropped off your boys? Have the coffee ready, agreed Waite. It was well known that no one was ever offered coffee when they called on David Pye. They went on down the street, turned left at the far end of Church Square, passed the courthouse and down the dip to the school hostel.

There were half a dozen Scotch carts and four-wheelers standing in the yard. Small boys and girls swarmed over them unloading their luggage. Their fathers stood in a group at one end of the yard, brown-faced men, with carefully brushed beards, uncomfortable in their suits which still showed the creases of long hanging. These men lived too far out for their children to make the daily journey into school. Their land sprawled down to the banks of the Tugela or across the plateau halfway to Pietermaritzburg.

Waite stopped the buggy, climbed down and loosened the harness on his horses and Sean jumped from the outside seat to the ground and ran to the nearest bunch of boys. Waite walked across to the men; their ranks opened for him, they smiled their welcomes and in turn reached for his right hand. Garrick sat alone on the front seat of the buggy, his leg stuck out stiffly in front of him and his shoulders hunched as though he were trying to hide.

After a while Waite glanced back over his shoulder. He saw Garrick sitting alone and he made as if to go to him, but stopped immediately. His eyes quested among the swirl of small bodies until they found Sean. Sean!

Sean paused in the middle of an animated discussion. Yes, Pa. Give Garry a hand with his case. Aw, gee, Pa, I'm talking Sean! Waite scowled with both face and voice. All right, I'm going. Sean hesitated a moment longer and then went back to the buggy. Come on, Garry. Pass the cases down. Garrick roused himself and climbed awkwardly over the back of the seat. He handed the luggage down to Sean who stacked it beside the wheel, then turned to the group that had followed him across. Karl, you carry that. Dennis, take the brown bag. Don't drop it, men it's got four bottles of jam in it. Sean issued his instructions. Come on, Garry. They started off towards the hostel and Garrick climbed down from the buggy and limped quickly after them.

know what, Sean? said Karl loudly. Pa let me start using his rifle. Sean stopped dead, and then more with hope than conviction, He did not! He did, Karl said happily. Garrick caught up with them and they all stared at Karl. How many shots did you have? asked someone in an awed voice.

Karl nearly said, Six, but changed it quickly. Oh, lots, as many as I wanted. You'll get gun-shy, my Pa says if you start too soon you'll never be a good shot. I never missed once, flashed Karl. Come on, said Sean and started off once more, he had never been so jealous in his life. Karl hurried after him. I bet you've never shot with a rifle, Sean, I bet you haven't, hey? Sean smiled mysteriously while he searched for some new topic; he could see that Karl was going to kick the subject to death.

From the veranda of the hostel a girl ran to meet him.

It's Anna, said Garrick.

She had long brown legs, skinny; her skirts fussed about them as she ran. Her hair was black, her face was small with a pointed chin. Hello, Sean Sean grunted. She fell in beside him, skipping to keep pace with him. Did you have a nice holiday? Sean ignored her, always coming and trying to talk to him, even when his friends were watching. I've got a whole tin of shortbread, Sean. Would you like some? There was a flash of interest in Sean's eyes; he half turned his head towards her, for Mrs Van Essen's shortbread was rightly famous throughout the district, but he caught himself and kept grimly on towards the hostel. Can I sit next to you in class this term, Sean? Sean turned furiously on her. No, you can't. Now go away, I'm busy. He went up the steps. Ann, stood at the bottom; she looked as though she was going to cry and Garrick stopped shyly beside her.

You can sit next to me if you like, he said softly.

She glanced at him, looking down at his leg. The tears cleared and she giggled. She was pretty. She leaned towards him.

Peg-leg, she said and giggled again. Garrick blushed so vividly, and suddenly his eyes watered. Anna put both hands to her mouth and giggled through them, then she turned and ran to join her friends in front of the girls, section of the hostel. Still blushing, Garrick went up the

steps after Sean; he steadied himself on the banisters.

Friulein stood at the door of the boys, dormitory. Her steel-rimmed spectacles and the iron grey of her hair gave her face an exaggerated severity, but this was relieved by the smile with which she recognized Sean.

JAh, my Sean, you have come. What she actually said was, Ach, mein Sean, you haf goM. Hello, FrAulein. Sean gave her his number one very best smile. Again you have grown, FrAulein measured him with her eyes. All the time you grow, already you are the biggest boy in the school. Sean watched her warily, ready to take evasive action if she attempted to embrace him as she did sometimes when she could no longer contain her feelings. Sean's blend of charm, good looks and arrogance had completely captured her Teutonic heart.

Quickly, you must unpack. school is just now starting She turned her attention to her other charges and Sean, with relief, led his men through into the dormitory.

Pa says that next weekend I can use his rifle for hunting, not just targets, Karl steered the conversation back.

Dennis, put Garry's case on his bed. Sean pretended not to hear.

There were thirty beds arranged along the walls, each with a locker beside it. The room was as neat and cheerless as a prison or a school. At the far end a group of five or six boys sat talking. They looked up as they came in but no greetings were exchanged, they were the opposition.

Sean sat down on his bed and bounced experimentally, it was hard as a plank, Garrick's peg thumped as he walked down the dormitory and Ronny Pye, the leader of the opposition, whispered something to his friends and they all laughed, watching Garrick. Garrick blushed again and sat down quickly on his bed to hide his leg.

I guess I'll shoot duiker first before Pa lets me shoot kudu or bushbuck Karl stated and Sean frowned.

What's the new teacher like? he asked. He looks all right one of the others answered. Jimmy and I saw him at the station yesterday. He's thin and got a mustache. He doesn't smile much. I suppose next holiday Pa will take me shooting across the Tugela, Karl said aggressively. I hope he's not too keen on spelling and things, Sean declared. I hope he doesn't start all that decimal business again, like old Lizard did. There was a round of agreement and then Garrick made his first contribution. Decimals are easy.

There was a silence while they all looked at him.

I might even shoot a lion, said Karl.

There was a single schoolroom to accommodate the youngest upwards of both sexes. Double desks; on the walls a few maps, a large set of multiplication tables and a picture of Queen Victoria. From the dais Mr Anthony Clark surveyed his new pupils. There was a hushed anticipation; one of the girls giggled nervously and Mr Clark's eyes sought the sound, but it stopped before he found it. It is my unfortunate duty to attempt your education, he announced. He wasn't joking. Long ago his sense of vocation had been swamped by an intense dislike for the young: now he taught only for the salary. It is your no more pleasant duty to submit to this with all the fortitude you can muster, he went on, looking with distaste at their shining faces. What's he saying? whispered Sean without moving his lips.

Shh, said Garrick.

Mr Clark's eyes swivelled quickly and rested on Garrick. He walked slowly down the aisle between the desks and stopped beside him; he took a little of the hair that grew at Garrick's temple between his thumb and his forefinger and jerked it upwards. Garrick squeaked and Mr Clark returned slowly to his dais. We will now proceed. Standard Ones kindly open your spelling books at page one. Standard Twos turn to page fifteen.... He went on allocating their work. Did he hurt you? breathed Sean. Garrick nodded almost imperceptibly and Sean conceived an immediate and intense hatred for the man. He stared at him.

Mr Clark was a little over thirty years old, thin, and his tight three-piece suit emphasized this fact. He had a pale face made sad by his drooping mustache, and his nose was upturned to such a degree that his nostrils were exposed; they pointed out of his face like the muzzle of a double-barrelled shotgun. He lifted his head from the list he held in his hand and aimed his nostrils straight at Sean. For a second they stared at each other. Trouble, thought Mr Clark; he could pick them unerringly.

Break him before he gets out of control, You, boy, what's your name?

Sean turned elaborately and looked over his shoulder.

When he turned back there was a little colour in Mr Clark's cheeks. Stand up. Who, me? Yes, you.

Sean stood. What's your name? Courtney. Sir! Courtney, sir. They looked at each other. Mr Clark waited for Sean to drop his eyes but he didn't. Big trouble, much bigger than I thought, he decided and said aloud, All right, sit down. There was an almost audible relaxation of tension in the room. Sean could sense the respect of the others around him; they were proud of the way he had carried it off. He felt a touch on his shoulder. It was Anna, the seat behind him was as close as she could sit to him. Ordinarily her presumption would have annoyed him, but now that small touch on his shoulder added to his glow of self-satisfaction.

An hour passed slowly for Sean. He drew a picture of a rifle in the margin of his spelling book then rubbed it out carefully, he watched Garrick for a while until his brother's absorption with his work irritated him.

Swat, he whispered, but Garrick ignored him.

Sean was bored. He shifted restlessly in his seat and looked at the back of Karl's neck, there was a ripe pimple on it. He picked up his ruler to prod it. Before he could do so Karl lifted his hand as if to scratch his shoulder but there was a scrap of paper between his fingers. Sean put down the ruler and surreptitiously reached for the note.

He held it in his lap, on it was written one word.

Mosquitoes Sean grinned. Sean's imitation of a mosquito was one of the many reasons why the previous schoolmaster had resigned. For six months old Lizard had believed that there were mosquitoes in the room, then for the next six months he had known there were not. He had tried every ruse he could think of to catch the culprit, and in the end it had got him. Every time the monotonous hum began the tic in the corner of his mouth became more noticeable.

Now Sean cleared his throat and started to hum.

Instantly the room was tense with suppressed laughter.

Every head, including Sean's, was bent studiously over a book. Mr Clark's hand hesitated in writing on the blackboard but then went on again evenly.

It was a clever imitation; by lowering and raising the volume Sean gave the effect of an insect moving about the room. A slight trembling at his throat was the only sign that he was responsible.

Mr Clark finished writing and turned to face the room.

Sean did not make the mistake of stopping, he allowed the mosquito to fly a little longer before settling.

Mr Clark left his dais and walked down the row of desks furthest from Sean. Once or twice he paused to check the work of one of his pupils. He reached the back of the room and moved across to Sean's row. He stopped at Anna's desk.

It is unnecessary to loop your L's like that, he told her.Let me show you. He took her pencil and wrote, You see what I mean. To show off when writing is as bad as showing off in your everyday behaviour. He handed her back her pencil and then pivoting on one foot he hit Sean a mighty crack across the side of the head with his open hand. Sean's head was knocked sideways and the sound of the blow was very loud in the quiet room.

There was a mosquito sitting on your ear, said Mr Clark.

in the following two years Sean and Garrick made the change from child to young manhood. It was like riding a strong current, being swept with speed along the river of life.

There were parts of the river that flowed steadily: Ada was one of these. Always understanding, with the ability to give her understanding expression, unchanging in her love for her husband and the family she had taken as her own.

Waite was another. A little more grey in his hair but big as ever in body, laugh and fortune.

There were parts of the river that ran faster: There were landmarks along the course of the river. Some of them small as a pile of rocks in shallow water: Some of the landmarks were big as headlands: And at the end the river plunged over the last waterfall and swept them into the sea. of manhood.

Garrick's reliance on Sean. He needed him more strongly each month that passed, for Sean was his shield.

if Sean was not there to protect him when he was threatened, then he used his final refuge: he crawled back into himself, into-the warm dark mists of his mind.

They went to steal peaches: the twins, Karl, Dennis and two others. There was a thick hedge around Mr Pye's orchard and the peaches that grew on the other side of it were as big as a man's fist. They were sweet as honey but tasted even sweeter when taken on the plunder account.

You reached the orchard through a plantation of wattle trees. Don't take too many off one tree! Sean ordered. Old Pye will notice it as sure as anything.

They came to the hedge and Sean found the hole. Garry, you stay here and keep cats for us. If anyone comes give a whistle. Garrick tried not to show his relief, he had no stomach for the expedition.

Sean went on. We'll pass the peaches out to you, and don't eat any until we're finished. Why doesn't he come with us? asked Karl.

"Cause he can't run, that's why. If he gets caught they'll know who the rest of us are for sure and we'll all get it Karl was satisfied. Sean went down on his hands and knees and crawled into the hole in the hedge and one at a time the others followed him until Garrick was left alone.

He stood close to the hedge, drawing comfort from its protecting bulk. The minutes dragged by and Garrick fidgeted nervously, they were taking an awfully long time.

Suddenly there were voices, someone was coming through the plantation towards him. Panic beat up inside him and he shrank back into the hedge, trying to hide;

the idea of giving a warning never even entered his head.

The voices were closer and then through the trees he recognized Ronny Pye: with him were two of his friends.

Each of them was armed with a slingshot and they walked with their heads thrown back, searching the trees for birds.

For a time it seemed they would not notice Garrick in the hedge; but then, when they had almost passed, Ronny turned his head and saw him. They stared at each other, ten paces apart, Garrick crouched against the hedge and Ronny's expression of surprise slowly changing to one of cunning. He looked around quickly, to make sure that Sean was not there. It's old Hobble-dee-hoy, he announced and his friends came back and stood on each side of him. What're you doing, Peg-leg? Rats got your tongue, Peg-leg?

No, termites got his leg! , laughter aimed to hurt. Talk to us, Peg-leg. Ronny Pye had ears that stood out on each side of his head like a pair of fans. He was small for his age which made him vicious and his hair was ginger. Come on. Talk to us, Peg-leg. Garrick moistened his lips with his tongue, already there were tears in his eyes. Hey, Ronny, make him walk for us, like this.

the others gave a graphic imitation of Garrick's limp.

laughter, louder now, more confident and they closed in on him.

Garrick swung his head from side to side searching for an escape. Your brother's not here, crowed Ronny. No good looking for him, Peg-leg. He caught a hold of Garrick's shirt and pulled him out of the hedge.

Show us how you walk.

Garrick plucked ineffectually at Ronny's hand. Leave me, I'll tell Sean. I'll tell Sean unless you leave me.

All right, I'll leave you, agreed Ronny and with both hands shoved him in the chest. Don't come my way, go that way! Garrick stumbled backwards.

One of the others was ready for him. Don't come my way, go that way and pushed him in the back. They formed a ring around him and kept him staggering between them. Go that way! Go that way! The tears were streaked down his cheeks now. Please, please stop.

, please, please, they mimicked him.

Then, with a rush of relief, Garrick felt the fluttering start behind his eyes, their faces dimmed, he hardly felt their hands upon him. He fell and his face hit the ground, but there was no pain. Two of them stooped over him to lift him, and there was dirt mixed with the tears on his cheeks.

Sean came through the hedge behind them; the front of his shirt bulged with peaches. For a second he crouched on his hands and knees while he took in what was happening, then he came out of his crouch at a run. Ronny heard him, dropped Garrick and turned. You've been pinching Pa's peaches, he shouted. I'll tell Sean's fist hit him on the nose and he sat down. Sean swung towards the other two but they were already running, he chased them a few paces and then came back for Ronny, but he was too late. Ronny was dodging away between the trees holding his face and his nose was bleeding onto his shirt. Are you all right, Garry? Sean knelt beside him, trying to wipe the dirt off his face with a grubby handkerchief.

Sean helped him to his feet, and Garrick stood swaying slightly with his eyes open but a remote and vacant smile on his lips.

Waite Courtney looked at Sean across the breakfast table at Theunis Kraal. The fork-load of egg and grilled gammon stopped on the way to his mouth. Turn your face towards the window, he commanded suspiciously. Sean obeyed. What the hell is that on your face?

rWhat? Sean ran his hand over his cheek. When did you last bath? Don't be silly, my dear. Ada touched his leg under the table. It isn't dirt, it's whiskers. Whiskers, are they? Waite peered closely at Sean and started to grin, he opened his mouth to speak and Ada knew instantly that he was going to make a joke, one of those ponderous jokes of his, as subtle as an enraged all-formed dinosaur, that would wound Sean deep in his half-formed manhood. Quickly she cut in, I think you should buy him a razor, don't you, Waite? Waite lost the thread of his joke, he grunted and put the egg into his mouth.

I don't want to cut them, said Sean and flushed scarlet.

They'll grow quicker if you shave them a bit at first, Ada told him.

Across the table from her Garrick fingered his jowls wistfully.

Waite fetched them from school at the beginning of the December holidays. In the confusion of loading their cases onto the buggy and shouting farewells to Friulein and to their friends, some of whom they would not see for another six weeks, the twins did not notice that Waite was acting strangely.

It was only later when the horses were heading for home at twice their normal speed that Sean asked, What's the hurry, Pa?

You'll see, said Waite, and both Garrick and Sean looked at him with sudden interest. It had been an idle question of Sean's but Waite's answer had them immediately intrigued. Waite grinned at the bombardment of questions but he kept his answers vague. He was enjoying himself. By the time they reached Theunis Kraal the twins were in a frenzy of curiosity.

Waite pulled the horses up in front of the house and one of the grooms ran to take the reins. Ada was waiting on the veranda and Sean jumped down and ran up the steps to her. He kissed her quickly. What's happening? he pleaded. Pa won't tell us- but we know it's something.Garrick hurried up the steps also. Go on, tell us. He caught hold of her arm and tugged it.

I don't know what you're talking about, Ada laughed. You'd better ask your father again.

Waite climbed up after them, put one arm around Ada's waist and squeezed her.

I don't know where they got this idea from, said Waite, but why not tell them to go and have a look in their bedroom? They might as well have their Christmas presents a bit earlier this year. Sean beat Garrick to the lounge and was far in the lead by the time he reached the door of their bedroom.

Wait for me, called Garrick desperately. Please wait for me. Sean stopped in the doorway.

Jesus Christ, he whispered, they were the strongest words he knew. Garrick came up behind him and together they stared at the pair of leather cases that lay on the table in the middle of the room, long flat cases, heavy polished leather with the corners bound in brass.

Rifles! said Sean. He walked slowly to the table as though he were stalking the cases, expecting them at any moment to vanish.

Look! Sean reached out to touch with one finger the gold lettering stamped into the lid of the nearest case. Our names on them even. He sprung the locks and lifted the lid. In a nest of green baize, perfumed with gun oil, glistened a poem in steel and wood.

Jesus Christ, said Sean again. Then he looked over his shoulder at Garrick. Aren't you going to open yours?

Garrick limped up to the table trying to hide his disappointment : he had wanted a set of Dickens so badly.

In the river there were whirlpools:

The last week of the Christmas holidays and Garrick was in bed with one of his colds. Waite Courtney had gone to Pietermaritzburg for a meeting of the Beef GrowersAssociation and there was very little work to do on the farm that day. After Sean had dosed the sick cattle in the sanatorium paddock and ridden an inspection around the South section he returned to the homestead and spent an hour talking to the stableboys, then he drifted up to the house. Garry was asleep and Ada was in the dairy making butter. He asked for and got an early lunch from Joseph and ate it standing in the kitchen. While he ate he thought over the problem of how to fill the afternoon. He weighed the alternatives carefully. Take the rifle and try for duiker along the edge of the escarpment or ride to the pools above the White Falls and fish for eels. He was still undecided after he had finished eating so he crossed the yard and looked into the cool dimness of the dairy.

Ada smiled at him across the churn. Hello, Sean, I suppose you want your lunch. Joseph gave it to me already, thanks, Ma. Joseph has already given it to me, Ada corrected mildly. Sean repeated it after her and sniffed the dairy smell, he liked the cheesy warmth of new butter and the tang of the cow dung smeared on the earth floor.

What are you going to do this afternoon?

I came to ask you if you wanted venison or eels, I don't know if I want to go fishing or shooting. Eels would be nice, we could jelly -them and have them for dinner tomorrow when your father comes home. I'll get you a bucket full. He saddled the pony, hung his tin of worms on the saddle and with his pole over his shoulder rode towards Lady-burg. He crossed the Baboon Stroorn bridge and turned off the road to follow the stream up to the falls.

As he skirted the wattle plantation below the Van Essensplace he realized he had made a mistake in picking this route. Anna, with her skirts held up to her knees, came pelting out from among the trees. Sean kicked the pony into a trot and looked straight ahead.

Sean, hey, Sean. She was ahead of him, running to intercept him; there was no chance of evading her so he stopped the pony.

Hello, Sean. She was panting and her face was flushed. Hello, he gruffed. Where are you going? There and back to see how far it is. You're going fishing, may I come with you? She smiled appealingly. Her teeth were small and white. No, you talk too much; you'll frighten the fish He started the pony. Please, I'll be quiet; honest I will. She was running next to him.

No. He flicked the reins and pulled away from her. He rode for a hundred yards then looked round and she was still following with her black hair streaming out behind her. He stopped the pony and she caught up with him.

I knew you'd stop, she told him through her gasps.

Will you go home? I don't want you following me. honest I will I'll be quiet as anything He knew she'd follow him right up to the top of the escarpment and he gave in. all right, but if you say a word, just one single word, I'll send you home! promise, help me up, please. He dragged her onto the pony's rump and she sat sideways with her arms round his waist. They climbed the escarpment. The path ran close beside the White Falls and they could feel the spray blowing off them fine as mist.

Anna kept her promise until she was sure they'd gone too far for Sean to send her back alone. She started talking again. When she wanted an answer from him, which wasn't very often, she squeezed his waist and Sean grunted. Sean knee-haltered the pony, and left him among the trees above the pools. He hid his saddle and bridle in an ant-bear hole and they walked down through the reeds to the water. Anna ran ahead of him and when he came out on to the sandbank she was throwing pebbles into the pool. Hey, stop that! You'll frighten the fish, Sean shouted. Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot.

She sat down and wriggled her bare toes into the sand.

Sean baited his hook and lobbed it out into the green water, the current drifted his float in a wide circle under the far bank and they both watched it solemnly. It doesn't seem as though there are any fish here, Anna said. You've got to be patient, you can't expect to catch one right away. Anna drew patterns in the sand with her toes and five lutes passed slowly. Sean ssh!

Another five minutes. Fishing's a silly old thing. Nobody asked you to come, Sean told her. It's hot here!

Sean didn't answer The high reed beds shut out any breeze and the white sand threw the sun's heat back at them. Anna stood up and wandered restlessly across the sand to the edge of the reeds. She picked a handful of the long spear-shaped leaves and plaited them together.

I'm bored, she announced. Well, go home thenAnd I'm hot. Sean pulled his line in, inspected the worms and cast them out again. Anna stuck her tongue out at his back.

Let's have a swim, she suggested.

Sean ignored her. He stuck the butt of his rod into the sand, pulled his hat down to shield his eyes from the glare and leaned back on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front of him. He could hear the sand crunching as she moved and then there was another silence. He started to worry what she was doing but if he looked around it would be a show of weakness.

Girls! he thought bitterly.

There was the sound of running feet just behind him.

He sat up quickly and started to turn. Her white body flashed past him and hit the water, with a smack like a rising trout. Sean jumped up. Hey, what're you doing? I'm swimming laughed Anna, waist-deep in green water, with her hair slicked wetly down her shoulders and over her breasts. Sean looked at those breasts, white as the flesh of an apple and nippled in dark pink, almost red. Anna dropped onto her back and kicked the water white.

Voet sak, little fishes! Scat, little fishes, she gurgled. Hey, you mustn't do that, Sean said halfheartedly.

He wanted her to stand up again, those breasts gave him a strange tight feeling in his stomach, but Anna knelt with the water up to her chin. He could see them through the water. He wanted her to stand up. It's lovely! Why don't you come in? She rolled on her stomach and ducked her head under the water; the twin ovals of her bottom broke the surface and Sean's stomach tightened again. Are You coming in? she demanded, rubbing the water out of her eyes with both hands. Sean stood bewildered within a few seconds his feelings towards her had undergone a major revolution. He wanted very much to be in the water with all those mysterious white bulges, but he was shy. You're scared! Come on, I give you guts to come in She teased him. The challenge pricked him. I'm not scaredWell, come on then He hesitated a few seconds longer, then he threw off his hat and unbuttoned his shirt. He turned his back on her while he dropped his pants then spun round and dived into the Pool, thankful for the cover it gave him. His head came out and Anna pushed it under again. He groped and caught her legs, straightened up and threw her on her back. He dragged her towards the shallows, where the water wouldn't cover her. She was thrashing her arms to keep her head out and screaming delightedly. Sean's heels snagged a rock and he fell, letting go of her; before he could recover she had leapt on him and straddled his back.

He could have thrown her off, but he liked the feel of her flesh on his back, warm through the cool water, slippery with wetness. She picked up a handful of sand and rubbed it into his hair. Sean struggled gently. She threw her arms round his neck and he could feel the whole length of her body along his back. The tightness in his stomach moved up into his chest and he wanted to hold her. He rolled over and reached for her but she twisted out of his hands and dived back into the deep again. Sean splashed after her but she kept out of his reach, laughing at him.

At last they faced each other, still chin deep, and Sean was getting angry. He wanted to hold her. She saw the change of his mood and she waded to the bank, walked to his clothes and picked up his shirt. She dried her face on it, standing naked and unashamed, she had too many brothers for modesty. Sean watched the way her breasts changed shape as she lifted her arms, he looked at the lines of her body and saw that her once skinny legs had filled out; her thighs touched each other all the way UP to the base of her belly and there she wore the dark triangular badge of womanhood. She spread the shirt out on the sand and sat down upon it, then she looked at him. Are you coming out? He came out awkwardly, coverig himself with his hands. Anna moved over on the shirt. You can sit down, if you like He sat hurriedly and drew his knees up under his chin.

He watched her from the corner of his eye. There were little goose-pimples round her nipples from the cold water. She was aware that he was watching her and she pulled back her shoulders, enjoying it. Sean felt bewildered again, she was so clearly in control now.

Before she had been someone to growl at but now she was giving the orders and he was obeying. You've got hairs on your chest, Anna said, turning to look at him. Sparse and silky though they were, Sean was glad that he had them. He straightened out his legs.

And you're much bigger there than Frikkie. Sean tried to Pull up his knees again but she put her hand on his leg and stopped him. Can I touch you? Sean tried to speak but his throat had closed and no sound came through it. Anne did not wait for an answer.

oh, look! It's getting all cheeky, just like Caribou's. Caribou was Mr Van Essen's stallion.

I always know when Pa is going to let Caribou service a mare, he tells me to go and visit Aunt Lettie. I just hide in the plantation. You can see the paddock jolly well from the plantation. Anna's hand was soft and restless, Sean could think of nothing else. Do you know that people service, just like horses do? she asked.

Sean nodded, he had attended the biology classes conducted by Messrs Daffel and Company in the school latrines. They were quiet for a while, then Anna whispered. Sean, would you service me? I don't know how, croaked Sean.

I bet horses don't either the first time, nor people for that matter, Anna said. We could find out.

They rode home in the early evening, Anna sitting up behind Sean, her Arms tight round his waist and the side of her face pressed between his shoulders. He dropped her at the back of the plantation.

I'll see you at school on Monday, she said and turned to go.

Yes. is it still sore? No, and then, after a moment's thought, it feels nice She turned and ran into the wattle trees.

Sean rode slowly home. He was empty inside; it was a sad feeling and it puzzled him.

rWhere are the fish? asked Ada. They weren't biting. Not even one? Sean shook his head and crossed the kitchen. sean!

Yes, Ma. Is something wrong? No,- quick denial -'No, I'm fine. He slipped into the passage.

Garrick was sitting up in bed. The skin around his nostrils was inflamed and chapped; he lowered the book he was reading and smiled at Sean as he came into the room. Sean went to his own bed and sat on it.

Where have you been? Garrick's voice was thick with cold. Up at the pools above the falls. fishing? Sean didn't answer, he leaned forward on the bed with his elbows on his knees. I met Anna, she came with me. Garrick's interest -quickened at the mention of her name and he watched Sean's face. Sean still had that slightly puzzled expression.

Garry, he hesitated; he had to talk about it. Garry, I screwed Anna Garrick drew in his breath with a small hiss. He went very pale, only his nose was still red and sore-looking.

I mean, Sean spoke slowly as though he were trying to explain it to himself, I mean really screwed her, just like we've talked about. just like.... He made a helpless gesture with his hands, unable to find the words. Then he lay back on the bed.

Did she let you? Garrick's voice was almost a whisper.

She asked me to, Sean said. It was slippery, sort of warm and slippery.

And then later, long after the lamp was out and they were both in bed, Sean heard Garrick's soft movements in the darkness. He listened for a while until he was certain. Garry! He accused him loudly. I wasn't, I wasn't. You know what Pa told us. Your teeth will fall out and you'll go mad. I wasn't, I wasn't. Garrick's voice was choked with his cold and his tears. I heard you, said Sean. I was just scratching my leg. Honestly, honestly, I was.

Mr -Clark had not been able to break Sean. He had provoked instead a bitter contest in which he knew himself to be slowly losing ground, and now he was afraid of Sean. He no longer made Sean stand, for Sean was as tall as he was. The contest had been on for two years; they had explored each other's weaknesses and knew how to exploit them.

Mr Clark could not bear the sound of anyone sniffing; perhaps subconsciously he took it as mockery of his own deformed nose. Sean had a repertoire that varied from a barely audible connoisseur testing-the-bouquet-of-brandy sniff to a loud hawking in the back of his throat. Sorry, sir, I can't help it. I've got a bit of a cold. But then, to even the score, Mr Clark had realized that Sean was vulnerable through Garrick. Hurt Garrick even a little and you were inflicting almost unbearable agony on Sean.

It had been a bad week for Mr Clark. his liver, weakened by persistent bouts of malaria, had been troubling him. He had suffered with a bilious headache for three days now; there had been unpleasantness with the Town Council about the terms on which his contract was to be renewed; Sean had been in good sniffing form the day before and Mr Clark had had about as much as he was prepared to take.

He came into the schoolroom and took his place on the dais; he let his eyes move slowly over his pupils until they came to Sean.

, just let him start, thought Mr Clark. Just let him start today and I'll kill him. The seating had been rearranged in the last two years.

Sean and Garrick had been separated and Garrick was now at the front of the room where Mr Clark could reach him easily. Sean was near the back.

English Readers, said Mr Clark. Standard Ones turn to page five. Standard Twos turn to Garrick sniffed wetly, hayfever Mr Clark shut his book with a snap.

Damn you! he said softly, and then, his voice rising, Damn you! Now he was shaking with rage, the edges of his nostrils were white and flared open.

He came down from the dais to Garrick's desk. Damn you! Damn you, you bloody little cripple, he screamed and hit Garrick across the face with his open hand. Garrick cupped both hands over his cheek and stared at him.

You dirty little swine, Mr. Clark mouthed at him. Now you're starting it too. He caught a handful of Garrick's hair and pulled his head down so that -his forehead hit the top of the desk. I'll teach you. By God, I'll teach you! I'll show you. Bump.

I'll teach you Bump.

It took Sean that long to reach them. He grabbed Mr Clark's arm and pulled him backwards. Leave him alone!

He didn't do anything!

Mr Clark saw Sean's face in front of him, he was passed all reason, the face that had tormented him for two long years. He bunched his fist and lashed out at it.

Sean staggered back from the blow, the sting of it made his eyes water. For a second he lay sprawled across one of the desks, watching Clark and then he growled.

The sound sobered Clark, he backed away but only two paces before Sean was on him. Hitting with both hands, grunting with each punch, Sean drove him against the blackboard. Clark tried to break away but Sean caught the collar of his shirt and dragged him back, the collar tore half loose in his hand and Sean hit him again. Clark slid down the wall until he was sitting against it and Sean stood panting over him.

Get out, said Clark. His teeth were stained pink by the blood in his mouth and a little of it spilled out onto his lips. His collar stood up at a jaunty angle under one ear.

There was no sound in the room except Sean's breathing Get out, said Clark again and the anger drained out of Sean leaving him trembling with reaction. He walked to the door.

YOU too, Clark pointed at Garrick. Get out and don't come back! Come on, Garry, said Sean.

Garrick stood up from his desk and limped across to Sean and together they went out into the school yard.

What are we going to do now? There was a big red lump on Garrick's forehead.

I suppose we'd better go home. What about our things? asked Garrick.

We can't carry all that, we'll have to send for them later. Come on. They walked out through the town and along the road to the farm. They had almost reached the bridge on the Baboon Stroorn before either of them spoke again.

what do you reckon Pa will do? asked Garrick. He was only putting into words the problem that had occupied them both since they left the school. Well, whatever he does, it was worth it. Sean grinned.

Did you see me clobber him, hey? Smackeroo, right in the chops. You shouldn't have done it, Sean. Pa's going to kill us!

Me too and I didn't do anything You sniffed, Sean reminded him.

They reached the bridge and leaned over the parapet side by side to watch the water.

How's your leg? asked Sean.

It's sore, I think we should rest a bit. All right, if you say so, Sean agreed.

There was a long silence, then, I. wish you hadn't done it, Sean.

Well, wishing isn't going to help. Old Nose-Holes is as punched up as he'll ever be and all we can do is think of something to tell Pa. He hit me, said Garrick. He might have killed me. Yes, agreed Sean righteously, and he hit me too. They thought about it for a while.

Perhaps we should just go away, suggested Garrick.

You mean without telling Pa? The idea had attraction.

Yeah, we could go to sea or something, Garrick brightened.

You'd get seasick, you even get sick in a train. Once more they applied their minds to the problem.

Then Sean looked at Garrick, Garrick looked at Sean and as though by agreement they straightened up and started off once more for Theunis Kraal.

Ada was in front of the house. She had on a wide-brimmed straw hat that kept her face in shadow and over one arm she carried a basket of flowers. Busy with her garden, she didn't notice them until they were halfway across the lawn and when she did she stood motionless. She was steeling herself, trying to get her emotions under control; from experience she had learned to expect the worst from her stepsons and be thankful when it wasn't as bad as that.

As they came towards her they lost momentum and finally halted like a pair of clockwork toys running down. Hello, said Ada. Hello, they answered her together.

Garrick fumbled in his pocket, drew out a handkerchief and blew his nose. Sean stared up at the steep Dutchgabled roof of Theunis Kraal as though he had never seen it before. Yes? Ada kept her voice calm.

Mr Clark said we were to go home, announced Garrick.

rWhy? Ada's calm was starting to crack.

Well? Garrick glanced at Sean for support. Sean's attention was still riveted on the roof.

Well... You see Sean sort of punched him in the head until he fell down. I didn't do anything. Ada moaned softly, Oh, no! She took a deep breath. all right.

Start at the beginning and give me the whole story.

They told it in relays, a garbled rush of words, interrupting each other and arguing over the details.

When they had finished Ada said, You better go to your room. Your father is working in the home section today and he'll be back for his lunch soon. I'll try and prepare him a little. The room had the cheery atmosphere of a condemned cell.

How much do you reckon he'll give us? asked Garrick.

I reckon until he gets tired, then he'll rest and give us some more, Sean answered.

They heard Waite's horse come into the yard. He said something to the stable boy and they heard him laugh; the kitchen door slammed and there was half a minute of suspense before they heard Waite roar. Garrick jumped nervously.

For another ten minutes they could hear Waite and Ada talking in the kitchen, the alternate rumble and soothing murmur. Then the tap of Ada's feet along the passage and she came into the room. Your father wants to see you, he's in the study. Waite stood in front of the fireplace. His beard was powdered with dust and his forehead as corrupted as a ploughed land with the force of his scowl.

Come in, he bellowed when Sean knocked and they filed in and stood in front of him. Waite slapped his riding-whip against his leg and the dust puffed out of his breeches.

Come here, he said to Garrick and took a handful of his hair. He twisted Garrick's face up and looked at the bruise on his forehead.

Hmm, he said. He let go of Garrick's hair and it stood up in a tuft. He threw the riding-whip on the stinkwood desk.

Come here, he said to Sean. Hold out your hands no, Palms down The skin on both hands was broken and one knuckle was swollen and puffy looking.

HMM" he said again. He turned to the shelf beside the fireplace, took a pipe out of the rack and filled it from the stone jar of tobacco.

You're a pair of bloody fools, he said, but I'll take a chance and start you on five shillings a week all found.

Go and get your lunch... we've got work to do this afternoon.

They stared at him a moment in disbelief and then back towards the door.

Sean. Sean stopped, he knew it was too good to be true. Where did you hit him?

All over, Pa, anywhere I could reach That's no good, Waite said. You must go for the side of his head, here, he tapped the point of his jaw with his pipe, and keep your fists closed tight or you'll, break every finger in Your hands before you're much older. Yes, Pa.

The door closed softly behind him and Waite allowed himself to grin.

They've had enough book learning anyway, he said aloud and struck a match to his pipe; when it was drawing evenly he blew out smoke.

Christ, I wish I could have watched it. That little penpusher will know better than to tangle with my boy again Now Sean had a course along which to race. He was born to run and Waite Courtney led him out of the stall in which he had fretted and gave him his lead. Sean ran, unsure of the prize, unsure of the distance; yet he ran with joy, he ran with all his strength.

Before dawn, standing with his father and Garrick in the kitchen, drinking coffee with hands cupped around the mug, Sean felt excitement for each coming day. Sean, take 7-ama and N'duti with you and make sure there are no strays in the thick stuff along the river. I'll only take one herdboy, Pa, you'll need NIduti at the dipping tankAll right, then. Try and meet us back at the tank before midday, we've got to push through a thousand head today!

Sean gulped the remains of his coffee and buttoned his jacket. I'll get going then A groom held his horse at the kitchen door. Sean slid his rifle into the scabbard and went up into the saddle without putting his foot into the steel; he lifted a hand and grinned at Waite, then he swung the horse and rode across the yard. The morning was still dark and cold.

Waite watched him from the doorway. So goddamned sure of himself, thought Waite. Yet he had the son he had hoped for and he was proud.

What you want me to do, Garrick asked beside him.

Well, there are those heifers in the sick paddock, Waite stopped. No. You'd better come with me, Garry.

Sean worked in the early morning when the sunlight was tinted as a stage effect, all golden and gay, and the shadows were long and black. He worked in the midday sun and sweated in the heat; in the rain; in the mist that swirled down grey and damp from the plateau; in the short African twilight, and came home in the dark. He loved every minute of it.

He learned to know cattle. Not by name, for only the trek oxen were named, but by their size and colour and markings, so that by running his eye over one of the herds he knew which animals were missing.

Zama, the old cow with the crooked horn. Where is she? Nkosi, no longer the diminutive Nkosizana, little lord. Nkosi, yesterday I took her to the sick paddock, she has the worm in her eye.

He learned to recognize disease almost before it started.

The way a beast moved and held its head. He learned the treatment for them. Screw worm, kerosene poured into the wound until the maggots fell out like a shower of rice.

Ophthalmia, rinse the eye with permanganate. Anthrax and quarter-evil, a bullet and a bonfire for the carcass.

He delivered his first calf among the acacia trees on the bank of the Tugela; he did it alone with his sleeves rolled up above the elbows and the soapy feel of the slime on his hands. Afterwards, while the mother licked it and it staggered at each stroke of the tongue, Sean felt a choking sensation in his throat.

All this was not enough to burn up his energy. He played while he worked.

Practising his horsemanship: swinging from the saddle and running beside his horse, up again and over the other side, standing on the saddle at full gallop and then opening his legs and smacking down on his backside, his feet finding the stirrups without groping.

Practising with his rifle until he could hit a running jackal at a hundred and fifty paces, cutting the fox-terriersized body in half with the heavy bullet.

Then there was much of Garrick's work to do also. I don't feel very well, Sean. What's, wrong? My leg's sore, you know how it chafes if I ride too much. Why don't you go home, then? Pa says I've got to fix the fence round the Number Three dip tank. Garrick leaned forward on his horse to rub his leg giving a brave little smile.

You fixed it last week, Sean protested. Yes, but the wires sort of came loose again. There was always a strange impermanency about any repairs that Garrick effected. Have you got the wire cutters? and Garrick produced them with alacrity from his saddle bag.

I'll do it, said Sean.

Hell, man, thanks a lot, and then a second's hesitation. You won't tell Pa, will you? No, you can't help it if your leg's sore, and Garrick rode home, sneaked through to his bedroom and escaped with Jim Hawkins into the pages of Treasure Island.

From this work came a new emotion for Sean. When the rain brought the grass out in green and filled the shallow pans on the plateau with water it was no longer simply a sign that the birdnesting season had begun and that the fishing in the Baboon Stroorn would improve now it meant that they could take cattle up from the valley, it meant that there would be fat on the herds they drove into the sale pens at Lady-burg it meant that another winter had ended and again the land was rich with life and the promise of life. This new emotion extended to the cattle also. It was a strong almost savage feeling of possession, It was in the late afternoon. Sean was sitting on his horse among trees, looking out across open vleiland at the small herd that was strung out before him. They were feeding, heads down, tails flicking lazily. Between Sean and the main body of cattle was a calf, it was three days old, still pale-beige in colour and unsure of its legs. It was trying them out, running clumsy circles in the short grass.

From the herd a cow lowed and the calf stopped dead and stood with its legs splayed awkwardly under it and its ears up. Sean grinned and picked up the reins from his horse's neck; it was time to start back for the homestead.

At that moment he saw the lammergeyer: it had already begun its stoop at the calf, dropping big and dark brown from the sky, wings cocked back and its talons reaching for the strike. The wind rustled against it with the speed of its dive.

Sean sat paralysed and watched. The eagle hit the calf and Sean heard bone break, sharp as the snap of a dry stick, and then the calf was down in the grass struggling feebly with the eagle crouched on top of it.

For a second longer Sean sat, dazed with the speed at which it had happened. Then hatred came on him. It came with a violence that twisted his stomach. He hit his horse with his heels and it jumped forward. He drove it at the eagle and as he rode he screamed at it, a high-pitched formless Sound, an animal expression of hate.

The eagle turned its head, looking at him sideways with one eye. it opened its great yellow beak and answered his scream, then it loosed its claws from the calf and launched itself into the air. its wings flogged heavily and it moved low along the ground, gaining speed, lifting, drawing away from Sean.

Sean pulled his rifle from the scabbard and hauled his horse back onto its haunches. He threw himself out of the saddle and levered open the breech of the rifle.

The eagle was fifty yards ahead of him rising fast now.

Sean slipped a cartridge into the breech, closed it and brought the rifle up in one continuous movement.

it was a difficult shot. Moving away from him and rising, the beat of its wings jerking its body. Sean fired.

The rifle jumped back into his shoulder and the gunsmoke whipped away on the wind, so he could watch the bullet connect.

The eagle collapsed in the air. It burst like a pillow in a puff of feathers and fell with its six-feet-long wings fluttering limply. Before it hit the ground Sean was running.

It was dead when he reached it, but he reversed his rifle: holding it by the muzzle, he swung the butt down from above his head onto its body. At the third blow the butt of his rifle broke off, but he kept on hitting. He was sobbing with fury.

When he stopped and stood panting the sweat was running down his face and his body was trembling. The eagle was a squashy mess of broken flesh and feathers.

The calf was still alive. The rifle was jammed. Sean knelt beside it with tears of anger burning his eyes and killed it with his hunting-knife.

So strong was this new feeling that Sean could hate even Garrick. He did not hate for long, though. Sean's anger and his hatred were quick things, with flames like those of a fire in dry grass: hot and high but soon burnt out and afterwardsihe ashes dead with no smouldering.

Waite was away when it happened. For three consecutive years Waite Courtney had been nominated for the chairmanship of the Beef Growers Association and each time he had stood down. He was human enough to want the prestige the office carried with it, but he was also sensible to the fact that his farm would suffer from his frequent absences. Sean and Garrick had been working for two years when the annual election of office bearers came around again.

The night before Waite left for the meeting in Pietermaritzburg he spoke to Ada. I had a letter from Bernard last week, my dear, he was standing before the mirror in their bedroom trimming his beard. They insist that I stand for the chair this year. Very wise of them, said Ada. They'd have the best men if you did. Waite frowned with concentration as he snipped at his whiskers. She believed so unquestioningly in him that he seldom doubted himself. Now looking at his face in the mirror he wondered how much of his success was owed to Ada's backing. You can do it, Waite. Not a challenge, not a question, but a calm statement of fact. When she said it he believed it.

He laid the scissors down on the chest of drawers and turned to her. She sat cross-legged on the bed in a white nightgown, her hair was down in a dark mass around her shoulders. I think Sean can look after things here, she said, and then quickly, and of course Garry. Sean's learning fast, Waite agreed. Are you going to take the job?

Waite hesitated. yes, he nodded and Ada smiled.

Come here, she held out her hands to him.

Sean drove Waite and Ada to the station at Lady-burg: at the last minute Waite had insisted that she go with him, for he wanted her to be there to share it with him.

Sean put their luggage into the coach and waited while they talked with the small group of cattlemen who were going up to the meeting. The whistle blew and the travellers scattered to their compartments. Ada kissed Sean and climbed up. Waite stayed a second longer on the platform. Sean, if you need any help go across to Mr Erasmus at Lion Kop. I'll be back on Thursday. I won't need any help, Pa. Waite's mouth hardened. Then you must be God, he's the only one who never needs help, Waite said harshly. Don't be a bloody fool, if you run into trouble ask Erasmus. He climbed up after Ada. The train jerked, gathered speed and ran out towards the escarpment. Sean watched it dwindle, then he walked back to the buggy. He was master of Theunis Kraal and he liked the feeling. The small crowd on the platform was dispersing and out of it came Anna. Hello, Sean. She had on a green cotton dress that was faded with washing, her feet were bare. She smiled with her small white teeth and watched his face. Hello, Anna. Aren't you going up to Pietermaritzburg? No, I've got to look after the farm , oh?

They waited in silence, uncomfortable before so many people. Sean coughed and scratched the side of his nose. Anna, come on. We've got to get home. One of her brothers called from in front of the ticket office and Anna leaned towards Sean.

Will I see you on Sunday? she whispered.

I'll come if I can. But I don't know, I've got to look after the farm. Please try, Sean. Her face was earnest. I'll be waiting for you, I'll take some lunch and wait all day. Please come, even if it's only for a little while. all right, I'll come. Promise? Promise. She smiled with relief. I'll wait for you on the path above the waterfall. She turned and ran to join her family and Sean drove back to Theunis Kraal. Garrick was lying on his bed reading. I thought Pa told you to get on with the branding of those new cattle we bought on Wednesday Garrick laid down his book and sat up. I told Zama to keep them in the kraal until you got backPa told you to get on with it. You can't keep them there all day without feed or water. I hate branding, muttered Garrick. I hate it when they moo like that as you burn them, and I hate the stink of burning hair and skin, it gives me a headache, Well someone's got to do it. I can't, I've got to go down and mix new dip into the tanks for tomorrow. Sean was losing his temper. Hell, Garry, why are you always so damn helpless? I can't help it, I can't help it if I've only got one leg Garrick was close to tears again. The reference to his leg had the desired effect, Sean's temper steadied instantly. I'm sorry, Sean smiled his irresistible smile. I tell you what. I'll do the branding, you fix the tanks. Get the drums of dip loaded onto the Scotch cart, take a couple of the stable boys with you to help. Here are the keys of the storeroom. He tossed the bunch onto the bed beside Garrick. You should be finished before dark.

At the door he turned. Garry, don't forget to do all six tanks, not just the ones near the house. So Garrick loaded six drums of dip onto the Scotch cart and went off down the hill. He was home well before dark. The front of his breeches was stained with the dark, tarry chemical and some of it had soaked into the leather of his single riding-boot. As he came out of the kitchen into the passage Sean shouted from the study. Hey, Garry, did you finish them? Garrick was startled. Waite's study was a sacred place, the inner sanctum of Theunis Kraal. Even Ada knocked before going into it and the twins went there only to receive punishment. Garrick limped along the passage and pushed open the door.

Sean sat with his boots on top of the desk and his ankles neatly crossed. He leaned back in the swivel chair.

Pa will kill you, Garrick's voice was shaky.

Pa's in Pietermaritzburg, said Sean.

Garrick stood in the doorway and looked around the room. It was the first time he had really seen it. On every previous visit he had been too preoccupied with the violence to come and the only item in the room he had studied closely was the seat of the big leather easy chair as he bent over the arm of it and exposed his backside to the sjambok.

Now he looked at the room. The walls were panelled to the ceiling, the wood was dark yellow and polished.

The ceiling was fancy plaster, in a pattern of oak leaves.

A single lamp hung from the centre of it on a brass chain.

You could walk into the fireplace of brown chipped stone and there were logs laid ready for the match.

Pipes and tobacco jar on the ledge beside the fireplace, guns in a rack along one wall, a bookcase of green and maroon leather bound volumes: encyclopaedias, dictionaries, books on travel and farming, but no fiction. There was an oil painting of Ada on the wall opposite the desk, the artist had captured a little of her serenity: she wore a white dress and carried her hat in her hand. A magnificent set of Cape buffalo horns above the fireplace dominated the room with their great crenellated bosses and wide sweep to the tips.

It was a man's room, with loose dog-hairs on the Ieopard-skin rugs, and the presence of the man strongly there - it even smelled of Waite. It was as distinctively his as the tweed coat and Terai hat that hung behind the door.

Next to where Sean sat the cabinet was open and a bottle of brandy stood on top of it. Sean had a goblet in his hand.

You're drinking Pa's brandy, Garrick accused. It's not bad Sean lifted the glass and inspected the liquid, he took a careful sip and held it in his mouth, preparing himself to swallow. Garrick watched him with awe and Sean tried not to blink as it went down his throat. Would you like some? Garrick shook his head and the fumes came up Sean's nose and his eyes ran.

Pa will kill you! said Garrick. Sit down, ordered Sean, his voice husky from the brandy. I want to work out a plan for the time Pa's away. Garrick advanced on the armchair, but before he reached it he changed his mind, the associations were too painful. He went to the sofa instead and sat on the edge. Tomorrow, Sean held up one finger, we'll dip all the cattle in the home section. I've told Zama to start bringing them early, you did do the tanks, didn't you?

Garrick nodded and Sean went on. On Saturday Sean held up his second finger, we'll burn fire breaks along the top of the escarpment. The grass is dry as hell up there. You take one gang and start near the falls, I'll ride down to the other end, near Fredericks Kloof.

On Sunday... Sean said and then paused. On Sunday Anna. I want to go to church on Sunday, said Garrick quickly. That's fine, agreed Sean. You go to church. Are you going to come? No, said Sean.

Garrick looked down at the leopard-skin rugs that covered the floor, he didn't try to persuade Sean for Anna would be at the service. Perhaps afterwards, if Sean wasn't there to distract her, he could drive her home in the buggy. He started a day dream and wasn't listening as Sean went on talking.

In the morning it was full daylight by the time Sean reached the dip tank. He pushed a small herd of stragglers before him and they came out through the trees and stirrup high grass into the wide area of trampled earth around the tank. Garrick had started running cattle through the dip and there were about ten head already in the draining kraal at the far end, standing wet and miserable, their bodies dark with dip.

Sean drove his herd through the gates of the entrance kraal into the solid pack of brown bodies that were already there. N'duti slid the bars of the gate back into place to hold them. I see you, Nkosi. I see you, N'duti. Plenty of work today! Plenty, agreed N'duti, always plenty of work. Sean rode around the kraal and tied his horse beneath one of the trees, then walked across to the tank. Garrick was standing by the parapet and leaning against one of the columns that supported the roof. Hello, Garry, how's it going? Fine. Sean leaned over the parapet next to Garry. The tank was twenty feet long and eight wide, the surface of the liquid was below ground level. Around the tank was a low wall and over it a roof of thatch to prevent rain diluting the contents.

The herdboys drov, 2 the cattle up to the edge and each beast hesitated on the brink. Elyapi, Elyapi, screamed the herdboys and the push of bodies behind it forced it to jump. If one was stubborn, Zama leaned over the railing of the kraal, grabbed its tail and bit it.

Each beast jumped with its nose held high and its forefeet gathered up under its chest; it disappeared completely under the oil black surface and came up again swimming frantically along the tank until its hooves touched the Sloping bottom at the far end and it could lumber up into the draining kraal.

Keep them moving, Zama, shouted Sean.

Zama grinned at him and bit with big white teeth into a reluctant tail.

The ox was a heavy animal and it splashed a drop up onto Sean's cheek as he leaned over the wall. Sean did

not bother to wipe it off, he went on watching. Well, if we don't get top prices for this lot at the next sale then the buyers don't know good cattle, he said to Garry.

They're all right, agreed Garry. All right? They're the fattest oxen in the district. Sean was about to enlarge on the theme, but suddenly he was aware of discomfort, the drop of dip was burning his cheek. He wiped it off with his finger and held it to his nose; the smell of it stung his nostrils. For a second he stared at it stupidly and the spot on his cheek burned like fire.

He looked up quickly. The cattle in the draining kraal were milling restlessly and as he looked one of them staggered sideways and bumped against the railing.

Zama! shouted Sean, and the Zulu looked up. Stop them. For God's sake don't let any more through. There was another ox poised on the edge. Sean snatched off his hat and jumped up onto the wall, he beat the ox in the face with his hat trying to drive it back, but it sprang out into the tank. Sean caught hold of the railing and stepped into the space it had left on the edge of the tank. Stop them, he shouted. Get the bars in, don't let any more through. He spread his arms across the entrance, holding onto the railing on each side, kicking at the faces of the cattle in front of him. Hurry, djunn you, get the bars in, he shouted. The oxen pressed towards him, a wall of homed heads. Pushed forward by those behind and held back by Sean they started to panic; one of them tried to jump over the railing.

As it swung its head its horn raked Sean's chest, up across the ribs, ripping his shirt.

Behind him Sean felt the wooden bars being dropped into place, blocking the entrance to the tank, and then Zamma's hands on his arm pulling him up out of the confusion of horns and hooves. Two of the herdboys helped him over the railing and Sean shrugged their hands off as soon as he was on the ground.

Come on, he ordered and ran to his horse. Nkosi, you are bleeding. Blood had splotched the front of Sean's shirt but he felt no pain. The cattle that had been through the dip were now in terrible distress. They charged about the kraal, bellowing pitifully; one of them fell and when it got to its feet again its legs were shaking so that it could barely stand.

The river, shouted Sean, get them down to the river.

Try and wash it off. Zama, open the gate. The Baboon Stroom. was a mile away. One of the oxen died before they could get them out of the kraal, another ten before they reached the river. They died in convulsions, with their bodies shuddering and their eyes turned back into their heads.

Sean drove those that remained down the bank into the river. The water was clear and as each beast went into it, the dip washed off in a dark brown cloud. Stand here, Don't let them come out. Sean swam his horse to the far bank and turned back the oxen that were trying to climb it. Nkosi, one is drowning, called N'duti and Sean looked across the river. A young ox was in convulsions in the shallows: its head was under water and its feet thrashed the surface.

Sean slid off his horse and waded out to it. The water was up to his armpits. He tried to hold its head out and drag it to the bank. Help me, N'duti, he shouted, and the Zulu came into the river. it was a hopeless task: each time the ox lunged it pulled them both under with it. By the time they got the ox to the bank it was dead.

Sean sat in the mud beside the body of the ox: he was exhausted and his lungs ached with the water he had breathed. Bring them out, Zama, he gasped. The survivors were standing in the shallows or swimming in aimless circles. How many? asked Sean. How many are dead?

Two more while you were in the water. Altogether thirteen, Nkosi. Where's my horse? It ran, and I let it go. It will be back at the house Sean nodded. Bring them up to the sick paddock. We must watch them for a few days. Sean stood up and started walking back towards the dip tank. Garrick was gone, and the main herd was still in the kraal. Sean opened the gate and turned them loose.

He felt better by then, and as his strength returned with it came his anger and his hatred. He started along the track towards the homestead. His boots squelched as he walked and he hated Garrick more strongly with each step. Garrick had mixed the dip. Garrick had killed his cattle and Sean hated him, As Sean came up the slope below the house he saw Garrick standing in the yard. Garrick saw him also; he disappeared into the kitchen and Sean started to run. He went in through the kitchen door and nearly knocked down one of the servants, Garrick, shouted Sean. Damn it, where are you? He searched the house; once quickly and then again thoroughly. Garrick was gone, but the window of their bedroom was open and there was a dusty boot print on the sill. Garrick had gone over it. You bloody coward, howled Sean and scrambled out after him. He stood a second, with his head swinging from side to side and his fists opening and closing. I'll find out, he howled- again. I'll find you wherever you're hiding. He started across the yard towards the stables and halfway there he saw the door of the dairy was closed. When he tried it he found it was locked from inside. Sean backed away from it and then charged it with his shoulder, the lock burst and the door flew open. Sean skidded across the room and came up against the far wall. Garrick was trying to climb out of the window, but it was small and high up. Sean caught him by the seat of his pants and pulled him down. Whatcha do to the dip, hey? Whatcha do to it! He shouted in Garrick's face.

I didn't mean to. I didn't know it'd kill them. Tell me what you did. Sean had hold of the front of his shirt and was dragging him towards the door.

I didn't do anything. Honest I didn't know, i'm going to hammer you anyway, so you might as well tell me. Please, Sean, I didn't know. Sean jammed Garrick against the doorway and held him there with his left hand, his right hand he drew back with the fist bunched. No, Sean. Please, no. And suddenly the anger was gone from Sean, his hands sank back to his sides.

All right, just tell me what you did, he said coldly.

His anger was gone but not his hatred. I was tired and it was getting late and my leg was hurting, whispered Garrick, and there were still four more tanks to do, and I knew you'd check that all the drums were empty, and it was so late... and...

And? And so I emptied all the dip into the one tank... but I didn't know it would kill them, truly I didn't Sean turned away from him and started walking slowly back towards the house. Garrick stumbled after him.

I'm sorry, Sean, honest I'm sorry. I didn't know that...

Sean walked ahead of him into the kitchen and slammed the door in his face. He went through into Waite's study. From the bookshelf he lifted down the heavy leather-covered stock register and carried it to the desk.

He opened the book, picked up a pen and dipped it. For a moment he stared at the page and then in the deathscolumn he wrote the number 13 and after it the wordsdip poisoning. He pressed down so hard with the pen that the nib cut the paper.

It took Sean and the herdboys all the rest of that day and the next to bale out the tank, refill it with clean water and mix in fresh dip. He saw Garrick only at meals and they didn't speak.

The next day was Sunday. Garrick went into town early, for the church service started at eight o'clock. When he had gone Sean began his preparations. He shaved leaning close to the mirror and handling the cut-throat gingerly, shaping his side burns and clearing the hair from the rest of his face until his skin was smooth and freshlooking. Then he went through to the master-bedroom and helped himself to a generous portion of his father's brilliantine, taking care to screw the lid back on the bottle and replace it exactly as he had found it. He rubbed the brilliantine into his hair and sniffed its perfume appreciatively. He combed his hair over his forehead, parted it down the centre and polished it into a gloss with Waite's silver-backed brushes. Then a clean white shirt, breeches worn only once before, boots as shiny as his hair, and Sean was ready.

The clock on the mantelpiece in the lounge assured him that he was well ahead of time. To be exact, he was two hours early. Eight o'clock now: church didn't end until nine and it would be another hour before Anna could escape from under the eyes of her family and reach the rendezvous above the falls. He settled down to wait. He read the latest copy of the Natal Farmer. He had read it three times before for it was a month old, and now even the excellent article on Stomach parasites in Cattle and Sheep, had lost much of its punch. Sean's attention wandered, he thought about the day ahead and felt the familiar movement within his breeches. This necessitated a rearrangement for the breeches were tight fitting.

Then fantasy palled; Sean was a doer not a thinker, and he went through to the kitchen to solicit a cup of coffee from Joseph. When he had finished it, there was still half an hour to go.

The hell with it, said Sean and shouted for his horse.

He climbed the escarpment, letting his horse move diagonally up the slope and at the top he dismounted and let it blow. Today he could see the course of the Tugela river out across the plain, it was a belt of dark green. He could count the roofs of the houses in Lady-burg and the church spire, Popper clad, shone in the sunlight like a beacon fire.

He mounted again and rode along the edge of the plateau until he reached the Baboon Stroom above the falls.

He followed it back and forded it at a shallow place, lifting his feet up on the saddle in front of him to keep his boots dry. He off-saddled next to the pools and knee-haltered his horse, then he followed the path until it dropped over the edge of the plateau into the thick forest that surrounded the falls. It was cool and damp in the forest with moss growing on the trees, for the roof of leaves and creepers shut out the sun. There was a bottle-bird in the undergrowth. Glug, glug glug, it said, like water poured from a bottle, and its call was almost drowned in the ceaseless thunder of the falls.

Sean spread his handkerchief on a rock beside the path, sat down on it and waited. Within five minutes he was fidgeting impatiently, within half an hour he was grumbling aloud. I'll count to five hundred.... If she hasn't come by then I'm not going to wait. He counted and when he reached the promised figure he stopped and peered anxiously down the path. There was no sign of Anna. I'm not going to sit here all day, he announced and made no effort to stand up. A fat yellow caterpillar caught his eye; it was on the trunk of a tree farther down the slope. He picked up a pebble and threw it. It bounced off the tree an inch above the caterpillar. Close, Sean -encouraged himself and stooped for another stone. After a while he had exhausted the supply of pebbles around his feet and the caterpillar was still moving leisurely up the trunk. Sean was forced to go out on a foraging expedition for more pebbles. He came back with both hands full and once more took up his position on the rock. He piled the pebbles between his feet and reopened the bombardment. He aimed each throw with the utmost concentration and with his third pebble he hit squarely and the caterpillar popped in a spurt of green her. You shouldn't say things like that about your Pa.

You should respect him. And Anna had looked at him calmly and asked, Why? which was a difficult question. But now she changed the subject. Do you want to eat yet? No, said Sean and reached for her. She fought back, shrieking demurely until Sean held her down and kissed her. Then she lay quietly, answering his kisses. If you stop me now I'm going to get mad, whispered Sean and deliberately unfastened the top, button of her dress. She watched his face with solemn eyes and her hands stayed on his shoulders until he had undone her blouse down to the waist and then with her fingers she traced the bold black curves of his eyebrows. No, Sean, I won't stop you. I want to as well, I want to as much as you do. There was so much to discover and each thing was strange and wonderful and they were the first to find it.

The way the muscles stood out down the side of his chest beneath his arms and yet left a place where she could see the outline of his ribs. The texture of her skin, smooth and white with the faint blue suggestion of veins beneath.

The deep hollow down the centre of his back, pressing her fingers into it she could feel his spine. The down on her cheeks, so pale and fine he could see it only in the sunlight. The way their lips felt against each other and the tiny flutter of tongues between. The smell of their bodies, one milky warm and the other musky and vigorous. The hair that covered his chest and grew thicker under his arms, and hers: startlingly dark against white skin, a small silky nest of it. Each time there was something new to find and greet with soft sounds of delight.

Now, kneeling before her as she lay with her head thrown back and her -arms half-raised to receive him, Sean suddenly bowed his head and touched her with his mouth. The taste of her was clean as the taste of the sea.

Her eyes flew open. Sean, no, you mustn't, oh no, you mustn't. There were lips within lips and a bud as softly resilient as a tiny green grape. Sean found it with the tip of his tongue. Oh, Sean, you can't do that. Please, please, please. And her hands were in the thick hair at the back of his head holding him there. I can't stand it any more, come over me... quickly, quickly, Sean. Filling. like a sail in a hurricane, swollen and hard and tight, stretched beyond its limit until it burst and was blown to shreds in the wind and was gone. Everything gone. The wind and the sail, the tension and the wanting, all gone. There was left only the great nothingness which is peace. Perhaps a kind of death; perhaps death is like that. But, like death, not an ending, for even death contains the seeds of resurrection. So they came back from peace to a new beginning slowly at first and then faster until they were two people again. Two people on a blanket among reeds with the sunlight white on the sand about them. Each time it's better and better, isn't it, Sean? Ah! Sean stretched, arching his back and spreading his arms. Sean, you do love me, don't you? Sure. Sure I love you. I think you must love me to have done, - she hesitated to do what you did. I just said so, didn't I? Sean's attention wandered to the basket. He selected an apple and polished it on the blanket. Tell me properly. Hold me tight and tell me. Hell, Anna, how many times have I got to say it?

Sean bit on the apple. Did you bring any of your Mais shortbread?

it was coming on night when Sean got back to Theunis Kraal. He turned his horse over to one of the grooms and went into the house. His body tingled from the sun, and he felt the emptiness and sadness of after-love, but it was a good sadness, like the sadness of old memories.

Garrick was in the dining-room, eating alone. Sean walked into the room and Garrick looked up nervously. Hello, Garry. Sean smiled at him and Garrick was momentarily dazzled by it. Sean sat down in the chair beside him and punched him lightly on the arm.

Have you left any for me? His hatred was gone. There's plenty, Garrick nodded eagerly. Try some of the potatoes, they're jolly good. They say the Governor sent for your Pa while he was in Pietermaritzburg. Had him alone for nearly two hours. Stephen Erasmus took the pipe out of his mouth and spat down onto the railway lines. In his brown homespun and veldschoen he did not look like a rich cattleman. Well, we don't need a prophet to tell us what it was about, do we? No, sir, Sean agreed vaguely. The train was late and Sean wasn't listening. He had an entry in the stock register to explain to his father and he was mentally rehearsing his speech. Ja, we know what it's about all right. Old Erasmus put the pipe back between his teeth and spoke around it. It's been two weeks now since the British Agent was recalled from Cetewayo's kraal at Gingindhlovu. Liewe Here! in the old days we'd have called out the Commando long ago. He packed his pipe, pushing down onto the glowing tobacco with a calloused forefinger. Sean noticed that the finger was twisted and scarred by the trigger-guards of a hundred heavy rifles. You've never been on commando have you, Jong? No, sir. About time you did then, said Erasmus, about bledy time.

Up on the escarpment the train whistled and Sean started guiltily.

There she is. Erasmus stood up from the bench on which they were sitting and the station master came out from his office with a rolled red flag in his hand. Sean felt his stomach sink slowly until it stopped somewhere just above his knees.

The train ran in past them, whooshing steam and brakewhining. The single passenger coach stopped precisely opposite the wooden platform. Erasmus came forward and took Waite's hand. Goeie More, Steff. More, Waite. They tell me you're the new chairman now. Well done, man. Thanks. Did you get my telegram? Waite spoke in Afrikaans. Ja. I got it. I told the others, we'll all be out at Theunis Kraal tomorrow. Good, Waite nodded. You'll stay for lunch, of course.

We've got a lot to talk about. Is it what I think it is? Erasmus grinned wickedly. The tobacco had stained his beard yellow around his mouth and his face was brown and wrinkled. I tell you all about it tomorrow, Steff. Waite winked at him, but in the meantime you'd better get that old muzzle-loader of yours out of moth-balls. They laughed, one deep down and the other a rusty old laugh. Grab the bags, Sean. Let's get home. Waite took Ada's Arm and they walked with Erasmus to the buggy. Ada had on a new dress, blue with leg o'mutton sleeves and a picture hat. she looked lovely but a little worried as she listened to them talking. It's strange how women can never face the prospect of war with the same boyish enthusiasm as their men. Sean! Waite Courtney's roar carried clearly from his study along the corridor and through the closed door of the sitting-room. Ada dropped her knitting into her lap and her features set into an expression of unnatural calm.

Sean stood up from his chair. You should have told him earlier, Garrick said in a small voice. You should have told him during lunchI didn't get a chance. Sean! Another blast from the study.

What's happened now? asked Ada quietly. It's nothing, Ma. Don't worry about it Sean crossed to the door. Sean, Garrick's stricken voice, Sean, you won't, I mean you don't have to tell - He stopped and sat hunched in his chair, his eyes full of desperate appeal. It's all right, Garry, I'll fix it. Waite Courtney stood over the desk. Between his clenched fists the stock register lay open. He looked up as Sean came in and closed the door. What's this? He prodded the page with a huge squaretipped finger.

Sean opened his mouth and then closed it again. Come on. I'm listening. Well, Pa, Well, Pa. , he buggered. just tell me how you've managed to massacre half the cattle on this farm in a little over a week? It's not half the cattle, it's only thirteen. Sean was stung by the exaggeration. Only thirteen, bellowed Waite, only thirteen. God Almighty, shall I tell you how much that is in cash? Shall I tell you how much that is in hard work and time and worry? I know, Pa. You know, Waite was panting. Yes, you know everything. There's nothing anyone can tell you, is there? Not even how to kill thirteen ead o prime oxen. Pa -'Don't Pa me, by Jesus. Waite slammed the heavy book closed. Just explain to me how you managed it. What's

"dip poisoning"? What the bloody hell is "dip poisoning"?

Did you give it to them to drink? Did you stick it up their arses? The dip was too strong, said Sean. And why was the dip too strong? How much did you put in? Sean took a deep breath, I put in four drums. There was silence and then Waite asked softly, How muchPFour drums. Are you mad? Are you raving bloody madVI didn't think it would harm them. His carefully rehearsed speech forgotten, Sean unconsciously repeated the words he had heard from Garrick. It. was getting late and my leg was -- Sean bit the sentence off and Waite stared at him, then the confusion cleared from Ins face.

, Garry! he said. No, shouted Sean. It wasn't him, I did it You're lying to me. Waite came round from behind the desk. There was a note of disbelief in his voice. To his knowledge it was the first time it had ever happened.

He stared at Sean and then his anger was back more violently than before. He had forgotten the oxen, it was the lie that concerned him now. By Christ, I'll teach you to tell the truth. He snatched up his sjambok from the desk.

Don't hit me, Pa, Sean warned him, backing away.

Waite threw up the'sjambok and swung it down overarm.

It hissed softly and Sean twisted away from it, but the tip of the lash caught his shoulder. Sean gasped at the pain and lifted his hand to it. You lying little bastard! shouted Waite and swung the whip sideways as though he were scything wheat, and this time it curled around Sean's chest under his uplifted arm. it split his shirt like a razor cut and the cloth fell away to expose the red ridged welt across His ribs and around his backHere's some m'ore! Waite lifted the siambok again and as he stood with his arm thrown back and his body turned off balance he knew he had made a mistake. Sean was no longer clutching the whip marks; his hands were held low and his fists were bunched. At the corners his eyebrows were lifted, giving an expression of satanical fury to his face. He was pale and his lips were drawn back tight, showing his teeth. His eyes, no longer blue but burning black, were on a level with Waite's. He's coming for me. Waite's surprise slowed his reflexes, he couldn't bring his whip-arm down before Sean was on him-. Sean hit him, standing solidly on both feet, bringing the full weight of his body into the punch, hurling it into the middle of Waite's exposed chest.

Heart punched, strength oozing out of him, Waite staggered back against the desk. The siambok fell out of his hand and Sean went after him. Waite had the sensation of being a beetle in a saucer of treacle: he could see and think but he could barely move. He saw Sean take three quick paces forward, saw his right hand cocked like a loaded rifle, saw it aimed at his defenceless face.

In that instant, while his body moved in slow motion but his mind raced, the scales of paternal blindness dropped from Waite Courtney's eyes and he realized that he was fighting a man who matched him in strength and height, and who was Ins superior in speed. His only advantage lay in the experience he had gathered in forty years of brawling.

Sean threw his punch: it had all the power of the first one and Waite knew that he could not survive that in his face, and yet he could not move to avoid it. He dropped his chin onto -his chest and took Sean's fist on the top of his head. The force of it flung him backwards over the desk, but as it hit he heard the brittle crackle of Sean's fingers breaking.

Waite dragged himself to his knees, using the corner of the desk as a support, and looked at his son. Sean was doubled up with pain, holding his broken hand against his stomach. Waite pulled himself to his feet and sucked in big breaths of air, he felt his strength coming back.

All right, he said, if you want to fight, then we fight.

He came round the desk, moving slowly, his hands ready, no longer underestimating his man. I am going to knock the daylights out of you, Announced Waite. Sean straightened up and looked at him. There was agony in his face now, but the anger was there also. Something surged up inside Waite when he saw it.

He can fight and he's game. Now we'll see if he can take a beating. Rejoicing silently Waite moved in on him, watching Sean's left hand, disregarding the broken right for he knew what pain was in it. He knew that no man could use a hand in that condition.

He shot out his own left hand, measuring with it, trying to draw Sean. Sean side-stepped, moving in past it. Waite was wide open for Sean's right, his broken right, the hand he could not possibly use, and Sean used it with all his strength into Waite's face.

Waite's brain burst into bright colours and darkness, he spun sideways, falling hitting the leopard-skin rug with his shoulder and sliding with it across the floor into the fireplace. Then in the darkness he felt Sean's hands on him and heard Sean's voice. Pa, oh, my God, Pa. Are you all right? The darkness cleared a little and he saw Sean's face, the anger gone from it and in its place worry that was almost panic. Pa, oh, my God! Please, Pa. Waite tried to sit up, but he could not make it. Sean had to help him. He knelt next to Waite holding him, fumbling helplessly with his face, trying to brush the hair back off his forehead, stroking the rumpled beard into place. I'm sorry, Pa, truly I'm sorry. Let me help you to the chair.

Waite sat in the chair and massaged the side of his jaw.

Sean hovered over him, his own hand forgotten.

what you want to do, kill me? asked Waite ruefully. I didn't mean it. I just lost my temper. I noticed, said Waite, I just happened to notice that. To, about Garry. You don't have to say anything to him, do you? Waite dropped his hand from his face and looked at Sean steadily. I'll make a bargain with you, he said, I'll leave Garry out of it if you'll promise me two things. One: You never lie to me again.

Sean nodded quickly. Two: if anybody ever takes a whip to you again you swear to me you'll give him the same as you just gave me. Sean started to smile and Waite went on gruffly. Now let's have a look at your hand. Sean held it out and Waite examined it, moving each finger in turn. Sean winced. Sore? asked Waite. He hit me with that. Sweet Jesus, I've bred me a wild one.

A little. Sean was white-faced again. It's a mess, said Waite. You'd better get into town right away and let Doctor Van have a go at it.

Sean moved towards the door. Hold on Sean stopped and Waite pulled himself out of his chair. I'll come with you. I'll be all right, Pa, you stay and rest.

Waite ignored this and walked towards him. Really, Pa, I'll be all right on my own. I'm coming with you, Waite said harshly; and then softly, almost inaudibly, I want to, dammit. He lifted his arm as though to put it around Sean's shoulders, but before it touched him he let it drop back to his side and together they went out into the corridor.

With two fingers in splints Sean handled his knife awkwardly at lunch the next day, but his appetite was unimpaired. As was only right and fitting he took no part in the conversation except on the rare occasions that a remark was addressed directly to him. But he listened, his jaws chewing steadily and his eyes moving from speaker to speaker. He and Garry sat side by side in a backwater of the luncheon board while the guests were grouped in order of seniority around Waite.

Stephen Erasmus by age and wealth was in the right hand seat; opposite him Tim Hope-Brown, just as wealthy but ten years younger; below him Gunther Niewenhuizen, Sam Tingle and Simon Rousseau. If you added it all together you could say that Waite Courtney had about a hundred thousand acres of land and half a million sterling sitting around his table. They were brown men, brown clothing, brown boots and big brown, calloused, hands.

Their faces were brown and battered-looking and now that the meal was-in its closing stages their usual reserve was gone and there was a tendency among them to talk all. at the same time and to perspire profusely. This was not entirely a consequence of the dozen bottles of good Cape Mossel that Waite had provided nor of the piles of food they had eaten, it was more than that. There was a sense of expectancy among them, an eagerness they were finding it difficult to suppress. Can I tell the servants to clear away, Waite? Ada asked from the end of the table. Yes, thank you, my dear. We'll have coffee in here, please. He stood up and fetched a box of cigars from the sideboard and carried it to each of his guests in turn. When the ends were cut and the tips were glowing, every man leaning back in his chair with a recharged glass and a cup of coffee in front of him, Ada slipped out of the room and Waite cleared his throat for silence. Gentlemen. They were all watching him. Last Tuesday I spent two hours with the Governor. We discussed the recent developments across the Tugela Waite lifted his glass and sipped at it, then held it by the stem and rolled it between his fingers as he went on. Two weeks ago the British Agent at the Zulu king's kraal was recalled. Recalled is perhaps the wrong word the king offered to smear him with honey, and tie him over an ant-hill, an offer that Her Britannic Majesty's Agent declined with thanks. Shortly thereafter he packed his bags and made for the border.

There was a small ruffle of laughter. Since then Cetewayo has collected all his herds which were grazing near the Tugela and driven them into the north; he has commanded a buffalo hunt for which he has decided he will need all his impis, twenty thousand spears. This hunt is to be held along the banks of the Tugela, where the last buffalo was seen ten years ago. Waite sipped at his glass, watching their faces. And he has ordered that all wounded game is to be followed across the border. There was a sigh then, a murmur from them. They all knew that this was the traditional Zulu declaration of war. So, man, what are we going to do about it. Must we sit here and wait for them to come and burn us out?

Erasmus leaned forward watching Waite.

Sir battle Frere met Cetewayo's Indunas a week ago.

He has given them an ultimatum. They have until January the eleventh to disband the impis and take the Queen s Agent back into Zululand. In the event that Cetewayo disregards the ultimatum, Lord Chelmsford is a punitive column of regulars and militia.

to command The force is being assembled now and will leave Pietermaritzburg within the next ten days. He is to cross the Tugela at Rorke's Drift and engage the impis before they break out. It is intended to end this constant threat to our border and break the Zulu nation for ever as a military power.

It's about bledy time, said Erasmus. His Excellency has gazetted me full colonel and ordered me to raise a commando from the Lady-burg district. I have promised him at least forty men fully armed, mounted and provisioned who will be ready to join Chelmsford at the Tugela. Unless any of you object I am appointing you gentlemen as my captains and I know I can rely upon you to help me make good my promise to His Excellency. Suddenly Waite dropped his stilted manner and grinned at them. You will collect your own pay. It will be in cattle, as usual. How far north has Cetewayo driven his herds? asked Tim Hope-Brown.

Not far enough, I'll warrant, cackled Stephen Erasmus. A toast, said Simon Rousseau jumping to his feet and holding up his glass. "I give you a toast: the Queen, Lord Chelmsford and the Royal Herds of Zululand. They all stood and drank it, and then suddenly embarrassed by their display they sat down again, coughing awkwardly and shuffling their feet, All right, said Waite, let's get down to details. Steff, you'll be coming and your two eldest boys? Ja, three of us and my brother and his son. Put down five, Erasmus. Good. What about you Gunther? They began the planning. Men, horses and wagons were marshalled on paper; each of the captains was allotted a series of tasks. There was question, answer and argument that filled the hours before the guests left Theunis Kraal.

They rode in a bunch, trippling their horses, sitting slack and long-legged in the saddles, moving up the far slope along the road to Lady-burg. Waite and his sons stood on the front step and watched them go.

Garry tried tentatively for Waite's attention. Yes, boy? Waite kept his eyes on the group. Steff Erasmus turned in the saddle and waved his hat above his head, Waite waved back. Why do we have to fight them, Pa? If the Governor just sent somebody to talk to them, then we wouldn't have to fight.

Waite glanced at him, frowning slightly.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for, Garry.

Cetewayo has raised twenty thousand spears to take this from us - Waite swept his arm in a circle that took in the whole of Theunis Kraal. I think it's worth fighting for, don't you, Sean? You bet, Sean nodded eagerly. But couldn't we just make a treaty with them Gaarry persisted.

Another cross on a piece of paper. Waite spoke with fierce disdain. They found one like that on Piet Retrieps body, hell of a lot of good it did him Waite walked back into the house with his sons following him.

He lowered himself into his armchair, stretched his legs out in front of him and smiled at Ada. Damn good lunch, dear. He clasped his hands over his stomach, belched MY involuntarily and was immediately contrite. I beg your pardon, it just slipped out.

Ada bent her head over her sewing to hide her smile. We've got a lot to do in the next few days He turned his attention back to his sons. We'll take one mule wagon and a pair of horses each. Now about ammunition... But, Pa, couldn't we just -! Garry started, Shut up, said Waite, and Garry subsided miserably into one of the other chairs.

I've been thinking, announced Sean. Not you as well, growled Waite. Damn it to hell, here's your chance to win your own cattle and... That's just what I've been thinking, Sean cut in.

Everybody will have more cattle than they know what to do with. The prices will drop way down. They will at first, admitted Waite, but in a year or two they'll climb back again. Shouldn't we sell now? Sell everything except the bulls and breeding cows, then after the war we'll be able to buy back at half the price. For a moment Waite sat stunned and then slowly his expression changed. My God, I never thought of that. And Pa, Sean was twisting his hands together in his enthusiasm, we'll need more land. When we bring the herds back across the Tugela there won't be enough grazing to go round.

Mr Pye has called the mortgages on Mount Sinai and Mahoba's Kloof. He's not using the land.

Couldn't we lease them from him now before everybody starts looking for grazing? We had a lot to do before you started thinking, said Waite softly, but now we've really got to work. He searched his pockets, found his pipe and while he filled it with tobacco he looked at Sean. He tried to keep his face neutral but the pride kept showing.

You keep thinking like that and you'll be a richm an one day. Waite could not know how true his prophecy would prove, the time was still remote when Sean could drop the purchase price of Theunis Kraal across a gaming table, and laugh at the loss.

The Commando was moving out on New Year's Day.

New Year's Eve was set down for a double celebration. Welcome 1879, and God speed the Lady-burg Mounted Rifles. The whole district was coming into town for the braaivleis and dancing that was being held in the square.

Feast the warriors, - laugh, dance and sing, then form them up and march them out to war.

Sean and Garry rode in early. Ada and Waite were to follow later in the afternoon. It was one of those bright days of a Natal summer: no wind and no clouds, the kind of day when the dust from a wagon hangs heavy in the air. They crossed the Baboon Stroom and from the farther ridge looked down across the town and saw the wagon dust on every road leading into Lady-burg. Look at them come, said Sean; he screwed up his eyes inst the glare and stared at the north road. That will be the Erasmus wagon. Karl will be with them.

The wagons looked like beads on a string. That's the Petersens', said Garry, or the Niewehuisens. Come on, shouted Sean, and slapped the free end of his reins across his horse's neck. They galloped down the road. The horses they rode were big glossy animals, with their manes cropped like English hunters.

They passed a wagon. There were two girls sitting beside mama on the box seat, the Petersen sisters. Dennis Petersen and his father were riding ahead of the wagon.

Sean whooped as he rode past the wagon and the girls laughed and shouted some that was lost in the wind. Come on, Dennis, howled Sean as he swept past the two sedately trotting outriders. Dennis's horse reared and then settled in to run, chasing Sean. Garry trailed them both.

They reached the cross roads, lying flat along their horses necks, pumping the reins like jockeys. The Erasmus wagon was trundling down to meet them. Karl, Sean called as he held his horse a little to stand in the stirrups. Karl. Come on, man catch a wayo, Cetewayo!

They rode into Lady-burg in a bunch. They were all flush-faced and laughing excited and happy at the prospect of dancing and killing.

The town was crowded, its streets congested with wagons and horses and men and women and girls and dogs and servants. I've got to stop at Pye's store, said Karl, come with me, it won't take long. They hitched their horses and went into the store; Sean, Dennis and Karl walked noisily and talked aloud. They were men, big sunburned raw-boned men, muscled from hard work, but uncertain of the fact that they were men.

Therefore, walk with a swagger and laugh too loud, swear when Pa isn't listening and no one will know you have your doubts.

What are you going to buy, Karl? Boots. That'll take all day, you'll have to try them on. We'll miss half the fun. There'll be nothing doing for another couple hours, protested Karl. Wait for me, you chaps. Karl sitting on the counter, trying boots on his large feet, was not a spectacle that could hold Sean's interest for long. He drifted away amongst the piles of merchandise that cluttered Pye's store. There were stacks of pick handles, piles of blankets, bins of sugar and salt and flour, shelves of groceries and clothing overcoats and women's dresses and hurricane-lamps and saddles hinging from the roof, and all of it was permeated by the peculiar smell of a general dealer's store: a mixture of paraffin, soap and new cloth.

Pigeon to its coop, iron to magnet.... Sean's feet led him to the rack of rifles against the far wall of the room.

He lifted down one of the Lee Metford carbines and worked the action; he stroked the wood with his fingertips, then he weighed it in his hands to feel the balance and finally brought it up to his shoulder. Hello, Sean. His ritual interrupted, Sean looked up at the shy voice. It's Strawberry Pie, he said smiling. How's school? I've left school now. I left last term Audrey Pye had the family colouring but with a subtle difference, instead of carrot her hair was smoked copper with glints in it. She was not a pretty girl, her face was too broad and flat, but she had that rare skin that too seldom goes with red hair: creamy unfreckled purity.

Do you want to buy anything, Sean?

Sean placed the carbine back in the rack. Just looking he said. Are you working in the store now? Yes She dropped her eyes from Sean's scrutiny. It was a year since he'd last seen her. A lot can change in a year; she now had that within her blouse which proved she was no longer a child. Sean eyed it appreciatively and she glanced up and saw the direction of his eyes; the cream of her skin clouded red. She turned quickly towards the trays of fruit. would you like a peach? Thanks, said Sean and took one.

How's Anna? asked Audrey.

Why ask me? Sean frowned. You're her beau, aren't you? Who told you that! Sean's frown became a scowl. Everybody knows that. Well, everybody's wrong. Sean was irritated by the suggestion that he was one of Anna's possessions. I'm nobody's beau. Oh! Audrey was silent a moment, then, I suppose Anna will be at the dance tonightVMost probably. Sean bit into the furry golden peach and studied Audrey. Are you going, Strawberry Pie? No, Audrey answered wistfully. Pa won't let me.

How old was she? Sean made a quick calculation...

three years younger than he was. That made her sixteen.

Suddenly Sean was sorry she wouldn't be at the dance.

That's a pity, he said. We could have had some fun. Linking them together, with the plural we, Sean threw her into confusion again. She said the first words she could think of, Do you like the peach? It's from our orchard. I thought I recognized the flavour. Sean grinned and Audrey laughed. Her mouth was wide and friendly when she laughed. I knew you used to pinch them. Pa knew it was you. He used to say he'd set a man-trap in that hole in the hedge! didn't know he'd found that hole, we used to cover it up each time. Oh, yes, Audrey assured him, we knew about it all the time. It's still there. Some nights when I can't sleep I climb out of my bedroom window and go down through the orchard, through the hedge into the wattle plantation.

It's so dark and quiet in the plantation at night, scary, but I like it. You know something, Sean spoke thoughtfully. if you couldn't sleep tonight and came down to the hedge at ten o'clock, you might catch me pinching peaches again It took a few seconds for Audrey to realize what he had said. Then the colour flew up her face again and she tried to speak but no words came. She turned with a swirl of skirt and darted away among the shelves. Sean bit the last of the flesh off the peach pip and dropped it on the floor.

He was smiling as he walked across to join the others. Hell's teeth, Karl, how much longer are you going to be?

There were fifty or more wagons outspanned around the perimeter of the square but the centre was left open, and here the braaivleis pits were burning, the flames already sinking to form glowing beds. Trestle-tables stood in two lines near the fires and the women worked at them cutting meat and boerwors, buttering bread, arranging platoons of pickle bottles, piling the food on trays and sweetening the evening with their voices and laughter.

In a level place a huge buck-sail was spread for the dancing and at each corner a lantern hung on a pole. The band was tuning with squeaks from the fiddles and preliminary asthma from the single concertina.

The men gathered in knots amongst the wagons or squatted beside the braaivleis pits, and here and there a jug pointed its base briefly at the sky. I don't like to be difficult, Waite, Petersen came across to where Waite was standing with his captains, but I see you've put Dennis in Gunther's troop. That's right. Waite offered him the jug and Petersen took it and wiped the neck with his sleeve. It's not you, Gunther, Petersen smiled at Gunther Niewehuisen, but I would be much happier if I could have Dennis in the same troop as myself. Keep an eye on him, you know.

They all looked at Waite to hear what he would say. None of the boys are riding with their fathers. We've purposely arranged it that way. Sorry, Dave. Why?

Waite Courtney looked away, over the wagons at the furious red sunset that hung above the escarpment. This isn't going to be a bushbuck shoot, Dave. You may find that you'll be called upon to make decisions that will be easier for you if you're not making them about your own son. There was a murmur of agreement and Steff Erasmus took his pipe out of his mout and spat into the fire.

There are some things it is not pretty for a man to see.

They are too hard for him to forget. He should not see his son kill his first man, also he should not see his son die. They were silent then, knowing this truth. They had not spoken of it before because too much talk softens a man's stomach, but they knew death and understood what Steff had said. One by one their heads turned until they were all staring across the square at the gathering of youngsters. beyond the fires. Dennis Petersen said something but they could not catch the words and his companions, laughed.

in order to live a man must occasionally kill said Waite, but when he kills too young; he loses something... a respect for life: he makes it cheap. It is the same with a woman, a man should never have his first woman until he understands about it. Otherwise that too becomes cheap. I had my first when I was fifteen, said Tim HopeBrown. I can't say it made them any cheaper; in fact I've known them to be bloody expensive.

Waite's big boom led the laughter. I know your old man pays you a pound a week but what about us, Sean? protested Dennis, we aren't all millionaires. All right, then, Sean agreed, five shillings in the pool.

Winner takes the lot. Five bob is reasonable, Karl opened, but let's get the rules clear so there's no argument afterwards Kills only, woundings don't count, said Sean. And they have to be witnessed, insisted Frikkie Van Essen. He was older than the others; his eyes were already a little bloodshot for he had made a start on the evening's drinking.

all right, dead Zulus only and a witness to each kill.

The highest score takes the pool. Sean looked around the circle of faces for their assent. Garry was hinging back on the fringe. Garry will be banker. Come on, Garry, hold out your hat. They paid the money into Garrick's hat and he counted it. Two pounds, from eight of us. That's correctHell, the winner will be able to buy his own farm.

They laughed. I've got a couple of bottles of smoke hidden in my saddle bags, Frikkie said. Let's go and try them. The hands of the clock on the church tower showed quarter before ten. There were silver-edged clouds around the moon, and the night had cooled. Rich meaty smelling steam from the cooking pits drifted across the dancers, fiddles sawed and the concertina bawled the beat, dancers danced and the watchers clapped in time and called encouragement to them. Someone whooped like a Highlander in the feverish pattern of movement, in the fever of fun. Dam the dribble of minutes with laughter, hold the hour, lay siege against the dawn! Where are you going, Sean? I'll be back just now. But where are you going? Do you want me to tell you, Anna, do you really want to know? Oh, I see. Don't be long. I'll wait for you by the band. Dance with Karl. No, I'll wait for you, Sean. Please don't be long. We've got such a little time left. Sean slipped through the circle of wagons, he kept in the tree shadow along the sidewalk, round the side of Pye's store and down the lane, running now, jumped the ditch and through the barbed wire fence. It was dark in the plantation and quiet as she had said; dead leaves rustled and a twig popped under his feet. Something ran in the darkness, scurry of small feet. Sean's stomach flopped over: nerves, only a rabbit. He came to the hedge and searched for the hole, missed it and turned back, found it and through into the orchard. He stood with his back against the wall of vegetation and waited. The trees were moon grey and black below. He could see the roof of the house beyond them. He knew she'd come of course. He had told her to.

The church clock chimed the hour and then later the single stroke of the quarter hour. Angry now, damn her!

He went up through the orchard, cautiously staying in shadow. There was a light in one of the side windows, he could see it spilling out into a yellow square on the lawn.

He circled the house softly.

She was at the window with the lamp behind her. Her face was dark but lamplight lit the edges of her hair into a coppery halo. There was something of yearning in her attitude, leaning forward over the sill. He could see the outline of her shoulders through the white cloth of her gown.

Sean whistled, pitching it low to reach her only, and she started at the sound. A second longer she stared out from light into the dark and then she shook her head, slowly and regretfully from side to side. She closed the curtains and through them Sean saw her shadow move The Lamp went out.

away.

Sean went back through the orchard and the plantation.

He was trembling with anger. From the lane he heard the music in the square and he quickened his pace. He turned the corner and saw the lights and movement. Silly little fool, he said out loud, anger still there but something else as well. Affection? Respect?

Where have you been? I've waited nearly an hour Possessive Anna.

logThere and back to see how far it is. Funny! Sean Courtney, where have you been? Do you want to dance? No. All right, don't then.

Karl and some of the others were standing by the cooking pits. Sean started for them. Sean, Sean, I'm sorry. Penitent Anna. I'd love to dance, please They danced, jostled by other dancers, but neither of them spoke until the band stopped to wipe their brows and wet dry throats. I've got something for you, Sean. What is it? Come, I'll show you. She led him from the light among the wagons and stopped by a pile of saddles and blankets. She knelt and opened one of the blankets and stood up again with the coat in her hands. I made it for you. I hope you like it Sean took it from her. It was sheepskin, tanned and polished, stitched with love, the inside wool bleached snowy white. It's beautiful, Sean said. He recognized the Tabour that had gone into it. it made him feel guilty: gifts always made him feel guilty.

Thank you verery much. Try it on, Sean. Warm, snug at the waist, room to move in the shoulders; it enhanced his considerable bulk. Anna stood close to him, the collar. You look nice in it, she said. Smug pleasure of the giver.

He kissed her and the mood changed. She held him tight around the neck. Oh, Sean, I wish you weren't going. Let's say goodbye properly. Where? MY wagon. )What about your parents? They've gone back to the farm. Pa's coming in tomorrow morning.

Garry and I are sleeping here No, Sean, there are too many people. We can't. 1You don't want to Sean whispered. It's a pity because it might be the last time ever. What do you mean? She was suddenly still and small in his arms. I'm going away tomorrow. You know what might happen? No. Don't talk like that. Don't even think itIt's true. No, Sean, don't. Please don't.

Sean smiled in the darkness. So easy, so very easy.

Let's go to my wagon- He took her hand.

Breakfast in the dark, cooking fires around the square, voices quiet, men standing with their wives, holding the small children in farewell. The horses saddled, rifles in the scabbards and blanket rolls behind, four wagons drawn up in the centre of the square with the mules in the traces.

To should be here any minute. It's nearly five o'clock, said Garry. They're all waiting for him, agreed Sean. He shrugged at the weight of the bandolier strapped over his shoulder. Mr Niewehuizen has made me one of the wagon drivers.

I know, said Sean. Can you handle it? I think so.

Jane Petersen came towards them. Hello, Jane. Is your brother ready yet? Nearly. He's just saddling up.

She stopped in front of Sean and shyly held out a scrap of green-and-yellow silk. I've made you a cockade for your hat, Sean. Thanks, Jane. Won't you put it on for me? She pinned up the brim of Sean's hat; he took it back from her and set it at a jaunty angle on his head. I look like a general now, he said and she laughed at him. How about a goodbye kiss, Jane? You're terrible, said little Jane and went away quickly, blushing. Not so little, Sean noticed. There were so many of them you hardly knew where to start.

Here's Pa, announced Garry, as Waite Courtney rode.

into the square. Come on, said Sean and untied his horse. From all around the square, men were leading out their horses. See you later, said Garry and limped off towards one of the waiting mule wagons.

Waite rode at the head of the column. Four troops of fifteen men in double file, four wagons behind them, and then the loose horses driven by black servants.

They moved out across the square, through the litter of the night's festivities, and into the main street. The women watched them in silence, standing motionless with the children gathered around them. These women had seen men ride out before against the tribes; they did not cheer for they too were wise in the ways of death, they had learned that there is no room for glory in the grave.

Anna waved to Sean. He did not see her for his horse was skittish and he was past her before he had it under control. She let her hand drop back to her side and watched him go. He wore the skeepskin coat.

Sean did see the coppery flash and the swiftly-blown kiss from the upstairs window of Pye's store. He saw it because he was looking for it. He forgot his injured pride sufficiently to grin and wave his hat.

Then they were out of the town, and at last even the small boys and dogs that ran beside them fell back and the column trotted out along the road to Zululand.

The sun came up and dried the dew. The dust rose from under the hooves and drifted out at an angle from the road. The column lost its rigidity as men spurred ahead or dropped back to ride with their friends. They rode in groups and straggles, relaxed and cheerfully chatting, as informal as a party out for a day's shooting. Each man had taken to the field in clothing he considered most suitable. Steff Erasmus wore his church suit, but he was the most formally attired of the group. They had only one standard item of uniform among them: this was the green-and-yellow cockade. However, even here there was scope for individual taste: some wore them on their hats, some on their sleeves and others on their chests. They were farmers, not fighting men, but their rifle scabbards were battered with use, their bandoliers worn with easy familiarity and the wood of their gun butts was polished from the caress of their hands.

It was middle afternoon before they reached the Tugela. My God, look at that! whistled Sean. I've never seen so many people in one place in my life before. They say there are four thousand, said Karl. I know there are four thousand. Sean ran his eyes over the camp. I didn't know four thousand was that many!

The column was riding down the last slope to Rorke's Drift. The river was muddy brown and wide, rippling over the shallows of the crossing place. The banks were open and grassy with a cluster of stone-walled buildings on the near side. In a quarter-mile radius around the buildings Lord Chelmsford's army was encamped. The tents were laid out in meticulous lines, row upon row with the horses picketed between them. The wagons were marshalled by the drift, five hundred at least, and the whole area swarmed with men.

The Lady-burg Mounted Rifles, in a solid bunch that overflowed the road behind their Colonel, came down to the perimeter of the camp and found their passage blocked by a sergeant in a dress coat and with a fixed bayonet. And who be you, may I ask? Colonel Courtney, and a detachment of the Lady-burg Mounted Rifles. What's that? Didn't catch it. Waite Courtney stood in his stirrups and turned to face his men. Hold on there, gentlemen. We can't all talk at once. The hubbub of conversation and comment behind him faded and this time the sergeant heard him. Ho! Beg your pardon, sir. I'll call the orderly officer.

The orderly officer was an aristocrat and a gentleman.

He came and looked at them. Colonel Courtney? There was a note of disbelief in his voice. Hello, said Waite with a friendly smile. I hope we are not too late for the fun. No, I don't believe you are. The officer's eyes fastened on Steff Erasmus. Steff lifted his top hat politely. More, Meneer. The bandoliers of ammunition looked a little out of place slung across his black frockcoat.

The officer tore his eyes away from him. You have your own tents, Colonel? Yes, we've got everything we need. I'll get the sergeant here to show you where to make camp.

Thank you, said Waite.

The officer turned to the sergeant. So carried away was he that he took the man by the arm. Put them far away.

Put them on the other side of the Engineers - he whispered frantically. If the General sees this lot..... He shuddered, but in a genteel fashion.

Garrick first became conscious of the smell. Thinking about it served as a rallying point for his attention and he could start to creap out of the hiding-place in his mind.

For Garrick, these returns to reality were always eightaccompanied by a feeling of light-headednessand a hid ening of the senses. Colours were vivid, skin sensitive to the touch, tastes and smells sharp and clear.

He lay on a straw mattress. The sun was bright, but he was in shade. He lay on the veranda of the stone-walled hospital above Rorke's Drift. He thought about the smell that had brought him back. It was a blending of corruption and sweat and dung, the smell of ripped bowels and congeahng blood.

He recognized it as the smell of death. Then his vision came into focus and he saw the dead. They were piled along the wall of the yard where the cross-fire from the store and the hospital had caught them; they were scattered between the, buildings, and the burial squads were busy loading them onto the wagons. They were lying down the slope to the drift, they were in the water and on the far bank. Dead Zulus, with their weapons and shields strewn about them. Hundreds of them, Garrick thought with astonishment: no, thousands of them.

Then he was aware that there were two smells; but both of them were the smells of death. There was the stink of the black, balloon-bellied corpses swelling in the sun and there was the smell from his own body and the bodies of the men about him, the same smell of pain and putrefaction but mixed with the heaviness of disinfectant.

Death wearing antiseptic, the way an unclean girl tries to cover her menstrual odour.

Garrick looked at the men around him, They lay in a long row down the veranda, each on his own mattress.

Some were dying and many were not but on all of them the bandages were stained with blood and iodine. Garrick looked at his own body. His left arm was strapped across his bare chest and he felt the ache start beating within him, slow and steady as a funeral drum. There were bandages around his head. I'm wounded, again he was astonished. How? But how? You've come back to us, Cocky, cheerful Cockney from beside him. We thought you'd gone clean bonkers Garrick turned his head and looked at the speaker; he was a small monkey-faced man in a pair of flannel underpants and a mummy suit of bandages.

el)ac said it was shock. He said you'd come out of it soon enough The little man raised his voice, Hey, Doc, the hero is completely mentos again. The doctor came quickly, tired-looking, dark under the eyes, old with overwork. You'll do, he said, having groped and prodded. Get some rest. They're sending you back home tomorrow. He moved away for there were many wounded, but then he stopped and looked back. He smiled briefly at Garrick, I doubt it will ease the pain at all but you've been recommended for the Victoria Cross. The General endorsed your citation yesterday. I think you'll get it. Garrick stared at the doctor as memory come back patchily, There was fighting Garrick said. You're bloody well tooting there was! the little man beside him guffawed. Sean ! said Garrick. My, brother! What happened to my brother? There was silence then and Garrick saw the quick shadow of regret in the doctor's eyes. Garrick struggled into a sitting position. And my Pa. What happened to my father?

I'm sorry, said the doctor with simplicity, I'm afraid they were both killed. Garrick lay on his mattress and looked down at the Drift. They were clearing the corpses out of the shallows now, splashing as they dragged them to the bank. He remembered the splashing as Chelmsford's army had crossed. Sean and his father had been among the scouts who had led the column, three troops of the Lady-burg Mounted Rifles and sixty men of the Natal Police.

Chelmsford had used these men who knew the country over which the initial advance was to be made.

Garrick had watched them go with relief. He could hardly believe the good fortune that had granted him. a squirting dysentery the day before the ultimatum expired and the army crossed the Tugela. The lucky bastards, protested one of the other sick as they watched them go. Garrick was without envy: he did not want to go to war, he was content to wait here with thirty other sick men and a garrison of sixty more to hold the Drift while Chelmsford took his army into Zululand.

Garrick had watched the scouts fan out from the Drift and disappear into the rolling grassland, and the main body of men and wagons follow them until they too had crawled like a python into the distance and left a wellwom road behind them through the grass.

He remembered the slow slide of days while they waited at the Drift. He remembered grumbling with the others when they were made to fortify the store and the hospital with bags and biscuit tins filled with sand. He remembered the boredom.

Then, his stomach tightening, he remembered the messenger. Horseman coming. Garrick had seen him first. Recovered from his dysentery he was doing sentry duty above the Drift. The General's left his toothbrush behind, sent someone back for it, said his companion. Neither of them stood up. They watched the speck coming across the plain towards the river. Coming fast, said Garrick. You'd better go and call the Captain. I suppose so, agreed the other sentry. He trotted up the slope to the store and Garrick stood up and walked down to the edge of the river. His peg sank deep into the mud. Captain says to send him up to the store when he gets here. Garrick's companion came back and stood beside him. Something funny about the way he's riding, said Garrick, he looks tired. He must be drunk. He's falling about in the saddle like it's Saturday night. Garrick gasped suddenly, He's bleeding, he's wounded The horse plunged into the Drift and the rider fen forward onto its neck; the side of his shirt was shiny black with blood, his face was pale with pain and dust. They caught his horse as it came out of the water and the rider tried to shout but his voice was a croak. In the name of God prepare yourselves. The Column's been surrounded and wiped out. They're coming, the whole black howling pack of them. They'll be here before nightfall. My brother, said Garrick.. What happened to my brother? Dead, said the min. Dead, they're all dead. He slid sideways off his horse.

They came, the impis of Zulu in the formation of the bull, the great black bull whose head and loins filled the plain and whose horns circled left and right across the river to surround them. The pull stamped with twenty thousand feet and sang with ten thousand throats until its voice was the sound of the sea on a stormy day. The sunlight reflected brightly from the spear blades as it came singing to the Tugela. Look! Those in front are wearing the helmets of the Hussars, one of the watchers in the hospital exclaimed. They've been looting Chelmsford's dead. There's one wearing a dress coat and some are carrying carbines. It was hot in the hospital for the roof was corrugatediron and the windows were blocked with sandbags. The rifle slits let in little air. The men stood at the slits, some in pyjamas, some stripped to the waist and sweating in the heat. It's true then, the Column has been massacredThat's enough talking. Stand to your posts and keep your mouths shut. The impis of Zulu crossed the Tugela on a front five hundred yards wide. They churned the surface to white with their crossing. My God! Oh, my God! whispered Garrick as he watched them come. We haven't got a chance, there are so many of them. Shut up. Damn you, snapped the sergeant at the Gatling machine-gun beside him and Garry covered his mouth with his hand.

Grabbed O'Riley by the neck Shoved his head in a pail of water Rammed that pistol up his sang one of the malaria cases in delirium and somebody else laughed, shrill hysteria in the sound. Here they come! Load! The metallic clashing of rifle mechanism. Hold your fire, men. Fire on command only. The voice of the bull changed from a deep sonorous chant to the shrill ululation of the charge, high-pitched T frenzy of the blood squeal. Steady, men. Steady. Hold it. Hold your fire. Oh, my God! whispered Garrick softly, watching them come black up the slope. Oh, my God! please don't let me die. Ready! The van had reached the wall of the hospital yard. Their plumed head-dresses were the frothy crest of a black wave as they came over the wall. Aim! Sixty rifles lifted and held, aimed into the press of bodies. FireV Thunder, then the strike of bullets into flesh, a sound as though a handful of gravel had been flung into a puddle of mud. The ranks reeled from the blow. The clustered barrels of the Gatling machine-gun jump, jump, jumped as they swung, cutting them down so they fell upon each other, thick along the wall. The stench of burnt black powder was painful to breathe. Load! The bullet-ravaged ranks were re-forming as those from behind came forward into the gaps. AimV

They were coming again, solid black and screaming halfway across the yard. Fire! Garrick sobbed in the shade of the veranda and pressed the fingers of his right hand into his eye sockets to squeeze out the memory.

What's the trouble, Cocky? The Cockney rolled painfully onto his side and looked at Garrick.

Nothing! said Garrick quickly. Nothing! Coming back to you, is it? "What happened? I can only remember pieces of it. What happened! The man echoed his question, What didn't happen! The doctor said - Garrick looked up quickly, He said the General had endorsed my citation. That means Chelmsford's alive. My brother and my father, they must be alive as well! No such luck, Cocky. The Doc's taken a fancy to you you with one leg doing what you did, so he made inquiries about your folk. It's no use. Why? asked Garrick desperately. Surely if Chelmsford's alive they must be too? The little man shook his head. Chelmsford's made a base camp at a place called Isandhlwana. He left a garrison there with all the wagons and supplies. He took a flying column out to raid, but the Zulus circled around him and attacked the base camp, then they came on here to the Drift. As you know, we held them for two days until Chelmsford's flying column came to help us, My folk, what happened to them? Your father was at the Isandhlwana camp. He didn't escape. Your brother was with Chelmsford's colhimn but he was cut off and killed in one of the skirmishes before the m-gin battle. Sean dead? Garrick shook his head. No, it's not possible. They couldn't have killed him. You'd be surprised how easily they did it, said the Cockney. A few inches of blade in the right place is enough for the best of them. But not Sean, you didn't know him. You couldn't understand. He's dead, Cocky. Him and your Pa and seven hundred others. The wonder is we aren't too. The man wriggled into a more comfortable position on his mattress. The General made a speech about our defence here. Finest feat of arms in the annals of British courage, or something like that He winked at Garrick. Fifteen citations for the old V. C.

you's one of them. I ask you, Cocky, isn't that something? What's your girl friend going to do when you come home with a mucking great gong clanking around on your chest, hey? He stared at Garrick and saw the tears oozing in oily lines down his cheeks. Come on, Cock. You're a bloody hero. He looked away from Garrick's grief. Do you remember that part, do you remember what you did? No, Garrick's voice was husky. Sean. You can't leave me alone. What am I going to do, now that you're gone? I was next to you. I saw it all. I'll tell you about it said the Cockney.

As he talked so the events came back and fitted into sequence in Garrick's mind. It was on the second day, we'd held off twenty-three charges.

Twenty-three, was it as many, as that? Garrick had lost count; it might have been but a single surging horror.

Even now he could taste the fear in the back of his throat and smell it rancid in his own sweat. Then they piled wood against the hospital wall and set fire to it. Zulus coming across the yard carrying bundles of faggots, falling to the rifles, others picking up the bundles and bringing them closer until they too died and yet others came to take their place. Then flames pale yellow in the sunlight, a dead Zulu lying on the bonfire his face and the smell of him mingled with the smoke.

chaffing, We knocked a hole in the back wall and started to move the sick and wounded out through it and across to the store The boy with the assegai through his spine had shrieked like a girl as they lifted him. Them bloody savages came again as soon as they saw we were pulling out. They from that side. He pointed with his bandaged arm, where the chaps in the store couldn't reach them, and there was only you and I and a couple of others at the loopholes, everyone else was carrying the wounded There had been a Zulu with the blue heron feathers of an Induna in his head-dress. He had led the charge, His shield was dried oxhide dappled black and white, and at his wrists and ankles were bunches of war rattles. Garrick had fired at the instant the Zulu half-turned to beckon to his warriors, the bullet sliced across the tensed muscles of his belly and unzipped it like a purse. The Zulu went down on his hands and knees with his entrails bulging out in a pink and purple mass. They reached the door of the hospital and we couldn't fire on them from the angle of the windows. The wounded Zulu started to crawl towards Garrick, his mouth moving and his eyes fastened on Garrick's face.

He still had his assegai in his hand. The other Zulus were beating at the door and one of them ran his spear blade through a crack in the woodwork and lifted the bar. The door was open.

Garrick watched the Zulu crawling towards him through the dust with his pink wet bowels swinging like a pendulum under him. The sweat was running down Garrick's cheeks and dripping off the end of his chin, his lips were trembling. He lifted his rifle and aimed into the Zulu's face. He could not fire. That's when you moved, Cocky. I saw the bar lifted out of its brackets and I knew that in the next second there'd be a mob of them in through the door and we'd stand no chance against their spears at close range. Garrick let go his rifle and it rattled on the concrete floor. He turned away from the window. He could not watch that crippled, crawling thing. He wanted to run, to hide. That was it ;. - to hide. He felt the fluttering start behind his eyes, and his sight began to grey. You were nearest to the door. You did the only thing that could have saved us. Though I know I wouldn't have had the guts to do it. The floor was covered with cartridge cases, brass cylinders shiny and treacherous under foot. Garrick stumbled;

as he fell he put out his arm. Christ the little Cockney shuddered, to put your arm into the brackets like that, I wouldn't have done -it. Garrick felt his arm snap as the mob of Zulus threw themselves against the door. He hung there staring at his twisted Arm, watching the door tremble and shake as they beat against it. There was no pain and after a while everything was grey and warm and safe. We fired through the door until we had cleared them away from the other side. Then we were able to get your arm free, but you were out cold. Been that way ever since. Garrick stared out across the river. He wondered if they had buried Sean or left him in the grass for the birds.

Lying on his side Garrick drew his legs up against his chest, his body was curled. Once as a brutal small boy he had cracked the shell of a hermit crab. Its soft fat abdomen was so vulnerable that its vitals showed through the transparent skin.

It curled its body into the same defensive attitude.

I reckon you'll get your gong, said the Cockney. Yes, said Garrick. He didn't want it. He wanted Sean back.

Doctor Van Rooyen gave Ada Courtney his arm as she stepped down from the buggy. In fifty years he had not obtained immunity from other people's sorrow. He had learned only to conceal it: no trace of it in his eyes, or his mouth, or his lined and whiskered face. He's well, Ada. They did a good job on his arm: that is, for military surgeons. It will set straight. When did they arrive? asked Ada. About four hours ago.

They sent all the Lady-burg wounded back in two wagons. Ada nodded, and he looked at her with the professional shield of indifference, hiding the shock he felt at the change in her appearance. Her skin was as dry and lifeless as the petals of a pressed flower, her mouth had set determinedly against her grief and her widow's weeds had doubled her age. He's waiting for you inside. They walked up the steps of the church and the small crowd opened to let them pass. There were subdued greetings for Ada and the usual funereal platitudes. There were other women there wearing black, with swollen eyes.

Ada and the doctor went into the cool gloom of the church. The pews had been pushed against the wall to make room for the mattresses. Women were moving about between them and men lay on them. I'm keeping the bad ones here, where I can watch them, the doctor told her. There's Garry. Garrick stood up from the bench on which he was sitting. His arm was slung awkwardly across his chest. He limped forward to meet them, his peg tapped loudly on the stone floor. Ma, I'm he stopped. Sean and Pa I've come to take you home, Garry. Ada spoke quickly, flinching at the sound of those two names. They can't just let them lie out there, they shouldPlease, Garry.

Let's go home, said Ada. We can talk about it later. We are all very proud of Garry, said the doctor. Yes, said Ada. Please, let's go home, Garry.

She could feel it there just below the surface and she held it in: so much sorrow confined in so small a place. She turned back towards the door, she mustn't let them see it. She mustn't cry here in front of them, she must get back to out to the buggy and Ada took the reins. Neither of them spoke again until they crossed the ridge and looked down at the homestead. You're the master of Theunis Kraal now, Garry, said Ada softly and Garrick stiffed uneasily on the seat beside her. He didn't want it, he didn't want the medal. He wanted Sean.

Theunis Kraal.

Willing hands carried Garrick, hope you don't mind me coming, said Anna, but I had to talk to you. No. I'm glad you did. Truly I'm glad, Garrick assured her earnestly. It's so good to see you again, Anna. It feels like forever since we left. I know, and so much, so much has happened. My Pa and yours. And, and Sean. She stopped. Oh, Garry, I just can't believe it yet. They've told me and told me but I can't believe it. He was so, so alive. Yes said Garrick, he was so alive. He talked about dying the night before he left. I hadn't even thought about it until then. Anna shook her head in disbelief, and I never dreamed it could happen to him.

Oh, Garry, what am I going to do?

Garrick turned and looked at Anna. The AnnA he loved, Sean's Anna. But Sean was dead. He felt an idea move within him, not yet formed in words, but real enough to cause a sick spasm of conscience. He shied away from it.

Oh, Garry. What can I do?

She was asking for help, the appeal was apparent in her voice. Her father killed at Isandhlwana, her elder brothers still with Chelmsford at Tugela, her mother and the three small children to feed. How blind of him not to see it! Anna, can I help you? just tell me. No, Garry. I don't think anyone can. If it's money -'He hesitated discreetly. I'm a rich man now. Pa left the whole of Theunis Kraal to Sean and 1, and Sean isn't, I She looked at him without answering. I can lend you some to tide you over blushed Garrick, as much as you need. She went on staring at him while her mind adjusted itself. Garrick master of Theunis Kraal, he was rich, twice as rich as Sean would have been. And Sean was dead. Please, Anna. Let me help you. I want to, really I do. He loved her, it was pathetically obvious, and Sean was dead. You will let me, Anna? She thought of hunger and bare feet, dresses washed until you could see through them when you held them to the light, petticoats patched and cobbled. And always the fear, the uncertainty you must live with when you are poor. Garry was rich and alive, Sean was dead. Please tell me you will. Garrick leaned forward and took her arm, he gripped it fiercely in his agitation and she looked into his face. You could see the resemblance, she thought, but Sean had strength where here there was softness and uncertainty. The colour was wrong also, pale sand and paler blue instead of brutal black and indigo. it was as though an artist had taken a portrait and with a few subtle strokes had altered its meaning completely so entirely different picture. She did as to make it into an not want to think about his leg.

it's sweet of you, Garry, she said, but we've got a little in the bank and the plot is free of debt. We've got the horses; we can sell them if we have to. what is it then? Please tell me. She knew then what she was going to do. She could not lie to him, it was too late for that. She would have to tell him, but she knew that the truth would not make any difference to him. Well, perhaps a little, but not enough to prevent her getting what she wanted. She wanted to be rich, and she wanted a father for the child she carried within her. Garry, I'm going to have a baby. Garrick's chin jerked up and his breathing jammed and then started again. A baby? Yes, Garrick. I'm pregnant. Whose? Sean's? Yes, Garry. I'm going to have Sean's baby. How do you know, are you sure? I'm sure. Garrick pulled himself out of his chair and limped across the veranda. He stopped against the railing and gripped it with his good hand; the other was still in the sling. His back was turned to Anna and he stared out across the lawns of Theunis Kraal to the lightly-forested slope beyond.

Sean's baby. The idea bewildered him. He knew that Sean and Anna did that together. Sean had told him and Garrick had not resented it. He was jealous, but only a little, for Sean had let him share in it by telling him and so some of it had belonged to him also. But a baby. Sean's baby.

Slowly the full implication came to him. Sean's baby would be a living part of his brother, the part that had not been cut down by the Zulu blades. He had not completely lost Sean. Anna, she must have a father for her child, it was unthinkable that she could go another month without marrying. He could have both of them, everything he loved in one package. Sean and Anna. She must marry him, she had no other choice. Triumph surged up within him and he turned to her.

What will you do, Anna? He felt sure of her now. Sean's dead. What will you do? I don't know. You can't have the baby. It would be a bastard. He saw her wince at the word. He felt very certain of her. I'll have to go away, to Port Natal. She spoke without expression in her voice. Looking calmly at him, knowing what he would say, I'll leave soon, she said, I'll be all right. I'll find some way out. Garrick watched her face as she spoke. Her head was small on shoulders wide for a girl, her chin was pointed, her teeth were slightly crooked but white, she was very pretty despite the catlike set of her eyes. I love you, Anna, he said. You know that, don't you? She nodded slowly and her hair moved darkly on her shoulders. The cat eyes softened contentedly. Yes, I know, Garry. Will you marry me? He said it breathlessly. You don't mind? You don't mind about Sean's baby?