Cry Wolf - Smith Wilbur (книги онлайн без регистрации полностью .TXT) 📗

into the sides of ravine and hillock, so that they were now honeycombed

with caves and tunnels.

It was as though nature had declared a peace upon the wells. Here man

and animal came together in wary truce that was seldom violated.

Amongst the grey-green thorn trees and dense scrub goat and camel

grazed in company with gazelle and gerenuk, oryx and greater kudu.

n In the hush of noo', the column of four armoured cars came in from

the east, and the hum of their engines carried at distance to the

multitude that awaited their arrival.

Jake led, as usual, followed by Vicky, then came Gregoritis with

Sara riding in the turret of his car and the white stallion trailing

them on a long lead rein. In the rear rode Gareth. Suddenly Sara

shrieked at such a high pitch that her voice carried over the engine

noise and she pointed ahead to the low valley filled with green scrub

and taller denser trees. Jake halted the column and climbed up into

the turret.

Through his binoculars he studied the open forest, and then.

started as he discerned a horde of moving figures coming headlong on

wings of fine pale dust.

"My God," he muttered aloud. "there must be hundreds of them," and he

felt a stab of uneasiness. They looked anything but friendly.

At that moment, he was distracted by the sound of galloping hooves

close by, and Sara came dashing past him.

She was mounted bareback on the white stallion, her robes streaming and

fluttering in the sun-bright wind. She was shouting with almost

hysterical excitement as she galloped to meet the oncoming riders and

her behaviour reassured Jake a little. He signalled the column forward

once again.

The first ranks came swiftly in dust clouds, on running camels and

galloping shaggy horses. Fierce, dark-faced men in billowing robes of

dirty white, and a motley of other colours. Urging forward their

mounts with wild cries, brandishing the small round bronze and iron

studded and bossed war shields, they came racing towards the column.

As they approached, they split into two wings and tore headlong past

the startled drivers in a solid wall of moving men and animals.

Most of the men were bearded, and here and there some warrior wore

proudly a great fluffy headdress of lion mane proclaiming his valour to

the world. The manes rippled and waved on the wind as the riders drove

by, urging on their mounts with the high "Looloo" ululations so

characteristic of the Ethiopians.

The weapons they carried amazed Gareth, who as a professional dealer

recognized twenty different types and makes, each one of them a

collector's piece from the long muzzle-loading Tower muskets with the

fancy hammers over percuss ion caps, through a range of Martini Henry

carbines, which fired a heavy lead bullet in a cloud of black powder

smoke, to a wide selection of Mousers; and Schneiders, Lee-Metfords,

and obsolete models from half the arms-manufacturers of the world.

As the riders swept by, they fired these weapons into the air,

long spurts of black powder against the evening sky, and the crackle of

musketry blended with the fierce ululations of welcome.

After the first wave of riders came another of those on mules and

donkeys moving more slowly but making as much noise and immediately

after them came a swarming mob of running, howling foot soldiers,

mingled with whom were women and shrieking children, and dozens of

yelping dogs, scrawny yellow curs with long whippy tails and ridges of

standing hair running down their skeletal backbones.

As the first rank of riders turned, still loolooing and firing into the

air, to complete the encirclement of the armoured column, they ran

headlong into the following rabble and the entire congregation became a

struggling mob of men and animals.

Jake saw a mother with a child under her arm go down under the hooves

of a running camel, the child flying from her grip and rolling in the

sandy earth. Then he was past, forging ahead through a narrow path in

the sea of humanity.

Sara was keeping the path open, leading them in, riding just ahead of

Jake's car, laying about her viciously with a long quirt of hippo hide

to hold back the mob, while around her wheeled the wildly excited

riders still firing their pieces into the air, and dozens of runners

pressed in closely, trying to climb aboard the moving cars.

Gradually the press of bodies and animals built up, until at last,

following Sara, they moved slowly through the open forest that

surrounded the wells into one of the shallow but steeply sided wadis in

the broken ground beyond.

Here any further forward movement became impossible.

The wadi was choked solidly with humanity, even the steep earthen sides

and the ledges above were crowded so closely that unfortunates,

pushed by those behind, could no longer keep their Position and came

tumbling down the sheer sides on to the heads of those in the wadi

below. The cries of protest were lost in the general hubbub.

From each of the turrets, the heads of the four drivers appeared

timidly, like gophers peering out of their holes.

They made helpless signs and expressions at each other, unable to

communicate in the uproar.

Sara leaped from the back of the stallion on to the sponson of Jake's

car and began raining blows and kicks on those who were still

attempting to climb aboard the vehicle. She was enjoying herself

immensely, Jake realized, as he noticed the battle lust in her eyes and

heard the crack of her whip and the yelps of her victims. He thought

of trying to restrain her and then discarded the idea as being highly

dangerous. Instead, he looked about distractedly for some other means

to subdue the boisterous welcome and noticed for the first time the

entrances to numerous caves in the sides of the wadi.

From a number of these dark openings now poured a body of men,

wearing a semblance of uniform jodhpurs and baggy khaki tunics, their

chests crossed with bandoliers of ammunition, put teed calves and bare

feet, high turbans bound around their heads and Mauser rifles swinging

heartily, the butts used as clubs. They were every bit as enthusiastic

as Sara, but considerably more successful in their attempts to quieten

the crowd.

"My grandfather's guards," Sara explained to Jake, still panting and

grinning happily from her recent exertions. "I am sorry, Jake, but

sometimes my people get excited."

"Yeah," said Jake. "So I noticed."

With gun butts rising and falling the guards cleared a space around the

four laden vehicles, and the noise dropped in volume until it was

equivalent to a medium-sized avalanche. The four drivers climbed

warily down and came together in a defensive group in the small stretch

of open ground before the caves. Vicky Camberwell placed herself

strategically between Jake and Gareth and behind the lanky robed figure

of Gregorius and she felt even more secure when Sara slipped up beside

her and took her hand.

"Please do not worry," she whispered. "We are all your friends."

"You could have fooled me, honey." Vicky smiled back at her, and

squeezed the slim brown hand. At that moment a procession emerged from

the caves, headed by four coal-black priests of the Coptic Christian

Church in their gaudy robes, chanting in Amharic, swinging incense and

carrying ornate, if crudely wrought bronze crosses.