Leopard Hunts in Darkness - Smith Wilbur (книга бесплатный формат .TXT) 📗
"What the hell do we do now?" Craig asked, and they stood in a huddle and looked at each other helplessly.
hey ransacked the shattered carcass of the Cessna the toolbox, the first, aid kit, the survival kit with the flashlight, a five-litre aluminium water the, thermal blankets and malt tablets, the pistol, the ho AK 47 rifle and ammunition, the map-case, and Craig unscrewed the compass from the roof of the cabin. Then they worked for an hour trying to hide all traces of the crash from a searching aircraft. Between them Tungata and Craig dragged the severed wing sections into the ravine and covered them with dried brush. They could not move the fuselage and engine section, but they heaped more branches and brush oven it.
they worked, they heard the sound of an Twice while aircraft in the distance. The resonant throb of twin engines was unmistakable.
"The Dakota," Sally Anne said.
"They are searching for us."
"They can't know that we are down," Sally-Anne protested.
they must know that we took a "No, not for certain, but t realize that real beating," Craig pointed out. "They mus there is a good chance that we are down. They will t the area, and question probably send in foot patrols to scou the villagers."
"The sooner we get out of here-"
"Which way?" rah joined the discussion "May I suggest something?" So deferentially. "We need food and a guide. I think I can lead us from here to my father's village. He will hide us until we have decided what we are going to do, until we are ready to go." Craig looked at Tungata.
"Makes sense any objections, Sam? Okay, let's do it." Before they left the site of the crash, Craig took Sally Anne aside.
Do you feel sad? It was a beautiful aircraft."
"I don't get sentimental over machinery." She shook her head. "Once it was a great little kite, but it's buggered and bent now. I save my sentiments for things that are more cuddly," and she squeezed his hand. "Time to move on, darling." Craig carried the rifle and pointed for them, keeping half a mile ahead and marking the trail. Tungata, lacking stamina, took the drag, with the two girls in the centre.
That evening they dug for water in a dry riverbed and sucked a malt tablet before they rolled into the thermal foil survival blankets.
The girls took the first two sentry goes, while Tungata and Craig spun a coin for the more arduous later watches.
Early the next morning, Craig cut a well-used footpath, and when Sarah came up she recognized it immediately.
Two hours later they were in the cultivated valley below Vusamanzi's hilltop village and while the rest of the party took cover in the standing maize, Sarah climbed up to find her father. When she returned an hour later the old witch doctor was with her.
He came directl u for ata and went down on his arthritically swoIIe'nY1fee'sb7 e him, and he took one of Tungata's feet and placed it upon his silver pate. "Son of kings, I see you," he greeted him. "Sprig of great Mzilikazi, branch of mighty Kurnalo, I am your slave." "Stand up, old man," Tungata lifted him up, and used the respectful term kehla, honoured elder.
"Forgive me that I do not offer refreshment, Vusamanzi apologized, 'but it is not safe here. The Shana soldiers are everywhere. I must lead you to a safe place, and then you can rest and refresh yourselves.
Follow me." He set off at a remarkable pace on his skinny old legs, and they had to lengthen their stride to hold him in view.
They walked for two hours by Craig's wrist-watch, the last hour through dense Thorn thicket and broken to ground. There was no defined footpath, and the heated hush of the bush and the claustrophobic crowding in of the hills was enervating and oppressive.
"I do not like this place," Tungata told Craig softly.
"There are no birds, no animals, there is a feeling here of evil no, not evil, but of mystery and of menace." Craig looked about him. The rocks had the blasted look of slag from the iron furnace and the trees were deformed and crooked, black as charcoal against the sun and leprous silver when the sun's rays struck them full on. Their branches were bearded with trailing lichens, the sickly green of chlorine gas. And Tungata was correct, there were no bird sounds, no rustles of small animals in the undergrowth. Suddenly Craig felt chilled and he shivered in th, sunlight.
"You feel it also," said Tungata, and as he spoke the old man disappeared abruptly, as though he had been swallowed by the black and blasted rock. Craig hurried forward, suppressing a shudder of superstitious dread. He teacher the spot where Vusamanzi had disappeared and looked around, but there was no sign of the old man.
"This way." Vusamanzi's voice was a sepulchral echo.
"Beyond the turn of the rock." The cliff was folded back upon itself, a narrow concealed cleft, just wide enough for a man to squeeze through. Craig stepped round the corner and paused to let his eyes adjust to the poor light.
Vusamanzi had taken a cheap storm lantern from a shelf in the rock above his head and was filling the base with paraffin from the bottle he had carried in his pouch. He struck a match and held it to the wick.
"Come,"he invited, and led them into the passageway.
"These hills are riddled with caves and secret passages," Sarah explained. "They are all dolomite formations." A hundred and fifty yards further on, the passage opened into a large chamber. Soft natural light filtered in through an opening in the domed roof high above their heads.
Vusamanzi extinguished the lantern and set it down on a ledge to one side of a hearth, manmade from blocks of limestone. The rock above the hearth was blackened with soot, and there was a pile of old ash upon the floor. Beside it was a neat stack of firewood.
