Leopard Hunts in Darkness - Smith Wilbur (книга бесплатный формат .TXT) 📗
4the man you call Tungat a Zebiwe, the Seeker after justice, was born Samson Kumalo. He is in direct line of succession from Mzilikazi, the first king and father of our people. He is the one upon whom the prophecies o t. e ancients descend. On the night he was taken by the Shons Idlers, I had sent for him to appraise him of his responsiso bility and to make him privy to the secrets of the kings. It he is still alive, as my daughter tells us he is, then it is the duty of every Matabele to do all in his power to seek his m. The future of our people tests with him. How can free do I assist you? You have only to ask."
"You have already helped us with food," Craig thanked him. "Now we need information."
"Ask, Kuphela. Anything that I can tell you, I will." and the camp of the "The road between Tuti Mission soldiers passes close to this place. Is that correct?"
isi
"Beyond those hills," the old man pointed.
"Sarah tells me that every week the trucks come along this road on the same day, taking food to the soldiers and the prisoners at the camp."
"That is so. Every week, on the Monday late in the afternoon, the trucks pass here loaded with bags of maize and other stores. They return empty the following morning.
"How many trucks?"
"Two or, rarely, three."
"How many soldiers to guard them?"
"Two in front beside the driver, three or four more in the back. One stands on the roof with a big gun that shoots fast." A heavy machine-gun, Craig translated for himself. "The soldiers are very watchful and alert and the trucks drive fast."
"They came last Monday, as usual?" Craig asked.
As usual," Vusarnanzi nodded his cap of shiny white wool. He must believe then that the routine was still in operation, Craig decided, and bet everything on it.
"How far is it to the mission station from here?" he as cec.
"From there to there." The witch-doctor swept his arm through a segment of the sky, about four hours of the sun's passage. Reckoned as the pace of a man on foot, that was approximately fifteen mil4;s.
"And from here to the camp of the soldiers?" Craig went on.
Vusamanzi shrugged. "The same distance."
"Good." Craig unrolled his map, they were equidistant between the two points. That gave him a fairly accurate fix. He began calculating times and distances and scribbling them in the margin of the map.
"We have a day to wait." Craig looked up at last. "The men will rest and ready themselves."
"My women will feed them,"Vusamanzi agreed.
"Then on Monday I will need some of your people to -help me." "There are only women here," the old man demurred.
"I need women young women, comely women," Craig told him. - "he next morning, leaving before dawn, Craig and Comrade Lookout, taking a runner with them, reconnoitred the stretch of road that lay just beyond the line of low hills. It was as Craig remembered it, a crude track into which heavy trucks had ground deep ruts, but the Third Brigade had cleared the brush on both sides to reduce the risk of ambush.
A little before noon they reached the spot where Peter Fungabera had stopped during their first drive to Tuti, the causeway where the road crossed the timber bridge across and where they had eaten that lunch of the green river baked maize cobs.
Craig found that his memory was accurate. "Me approaches to the bridge, firstly down the steep slope of the valley and then across the narrow earthen causeway, must force the supply convoy to slow down and engage low ear. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, and Craig sent the runner back to Vusamanzi's village to bring up the rest of the force. While they waited, Craig and Comrade t over their plans and adapted them to the Lookout well actual terrain.
"The main attack would take place at the bridge, but if that failed, they must have a backup plan to prevent die through. As soon as the main force of convoy getting guerrillas arrived, Craig sent Comrade Lookout with five men along the road beyond the bridge. Out of sight from the bridge, they felled a large mhoba-hobo tree so that it fell across the track, as an effective roadblock. Comradu Lookout would command here, while Craig coordinated the attack at the bridge, "Which are the men who speak Shana?" Craig demanded.
"This one speaks it likea Shana, this one not as well."
"They are to be kept out of any fighting. We cannot risk losing them," Craig ordered. "We will need them for the camp."
"I will hold them in my hand, "Comrade Lookout agreed.
"Now the women." Sarah had chosen three of her half-sisters from the village, ranging in age from sixteen to eighteen years.
They were the prettiest of the old witch-doctor's multitudinous daughters, and when Craig explained their role to them, they giggled and hung their heads, and covered their mouths with their hands and went through all the other motions of modesty and maidenly shyness. But they were obviously relishing the adventure hugely, nothing so exciting and titillating had happened to them in all their young lives.
"Do the understand?" Craig asked Sarah. "It will be dangerous they must do exactly as they are told."
"I will be with them," Sarah assured him. "All the time tonight as well, especially tonight." This last was for the benefit of the girls. Sarah had been fully aware of mutual ogling between her sisters and the young guerrillas. She shooed them away, stilWiggling, to the rough shelter of thorn branches that She had made them build for themselves, and settled herself across the entrance.
