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

Count was pale, but proud, like a new mother whose infant is the centre

of attention. He looked up as Castelani appeared in the doorway, and

the Major recoiled slightly as, for a moment, it seemed the Count might

invite him to join in the examination.

He saluted hastily, taking another step backwards.

"Has your Excellency orders for me?"

"I am an ill man,

Castelani," and the Count struck a pose, drooping visibly, his head

lolling weakly. Then slowly he drew back his shoulders, and his chin

came up. A wan but brave smile tightened his lips. "But that is of no

account.

We advance, Castelani. Onwards! Tell the men I am well.

Hide the truth from them. If they know of my illness, they will

despair. They will panic." Castelani saluted again. "As you wish,

my

Colonel."

"Help me to the car, Castelani," he ordered, and reluctantly the Major

took his arm. The Count leaned heavily upon him as they crossed to the

Rolls, but he smiled gallantly at his men and waved to the nearest of

them.

"My poor brave boys," he muttered. "They must never know. I will not

fail them now." What the hell is happening out there?" fretted

Gareth Swales, glancing up anxiously at Jake on the turret of the car

above him.

"Nothing!" Jake assured him. "No sign of movement." don't like it,"

reiterated Gareth morosely, and his expression hardly altered as the

Ras let out one of his triumphant cries and began laying out his

cards.

"I don't like that either," he said again, and reached for his wallet

before the Ras reminded him. While the Ras shuffled and dealt the next

hand, he continued his conversation with Jake.

"What about Vicky? Nothing from that quarter either?"

"Not a peep, "Jake assured him.

"That's another thing I don't like. She took it too calmly.

I expected her to put in an appearance long ago despite my orders."

"She won't be coming," Jake assured him, raising the binoculars again

and sweeping the empty horizon.

"I wish I was that confident," muttered Gareth, picking up his cards.

"I've been expecting to see her car driving up at any minute.

It isn't like her to sit meekly in camp, while the action is going on

out here. She's a front-ranker, that one.

She likes to be right there when anything is happening."

"I know,"

Jake -agreed. "She had that mean look in her eye when she agreed to

stay at the gorge. So I just made sure she wasn't going to use Miss

Wobbly. I took the carbon rod out of the distributor." Gareth began

to grin. "That's the only good news I've had today. I had visions

of

Vicky Camberwell arriving in the middle of a fire fight."

"Poor bloody

Italians," observed Jake, and they both laughed.

"Sometimes you surprise me. Do you know that?" said Gareth, and he

drew a cheroot from his breast pocket and tossed it up to where Jake

stood. "Thanks for" looking after what is mine, "he said. "I

appreciate that." Jake bit the tip off the cigar, and gave him a

quizzical look as he flicked a match across the rough steel of the

turret and held the flame in his cupped hands to burn off the

sulphur.

"They are all mavericks until somebody puts a brand on them.

That's the law of the range, old buddy," he answered, and lit the

cigar.

Vicky Camberwell had selected five full-grown men from the Ras's camp

attendants, rewarded each one with a silver Maria Theresa dollar,

and worn each of them down to the fine edge of exhaustion. One after

the other, they had taken hold of Miss Wobbly's crank handle and turned

it like a squad of demented organ-grinders while Vicky shouted

encouragement and threats at them from the driver's hatch, her eyes

blazing and cheeks fiery with frustration.

After an hour of this she was convinced that sabotage had been employed

to keep her safely out of the way, and she began to check out Miss

Wobbly's internal organs. She was one of those unusual women who liked

to know how things-worked, and throughout her life had plagued a long

series Of mechanics, boyfriends and instructors with her questions. It

was not enough for her to switch on a machine and steer it. She had

made herself an excellent driver and pilot, and in the process she had

acquired a fair idea of the workings of the internal combustion

engine.

"All right, Mr. Barton let's find out what you've done," she muttered

grimly. "Let's start on the fuel system." She rolled up her sleeves

and tied a scarf firmly around her hair. Her five hefty helpers

watched with awe as she approached the engine compartment and lifted

the cowling, and then they crowded forward to get a good view and offer

their advice. She had to beat them back and shoo them away before she

could begin work, but then she was completely absorbed in her task, and

in half an hour had checked an tested the fuel system,

making sure that gasoline was travelling freely from the tank along the

lines to carburettor and cylinders, and that the pump was functioning

smoothly.

"Right, now let's check out the electrics, she muttered to herself, and

turned irritably as an insistent hand tugged at her belt,

breaking her concentration.

"Yes, what is it?" Her expression changed, lighting up happily as she

saw who it was.

"Sara!" She embraced the girl. "How on earth did you get here?"

"I escaped, Miss Camberwell. It was so boring in the hospital. I had

my father's men bring a horse for me and I climbed out of the window

and rode down the gorge."

"What about your friend the young doctor?"

Vicky demanded, still holding the girl and surprised by the strength of

her affection for her.

"Oh, him!" Sara's voice held a world of scorn and contempt. "He was

the most boring thing in the hospital.

Doctor! Ha! He knows nothing about how a body works I had to try and

teach him, and that was no fun."

"And your leg?" she asked.

"How is your leg?"

"It is nothing almost well." Sara tried to dismiss the injury but

Vicky saw that she was drawn and haggard. The long,

rough ride down the gorge must have taxed her, and as Vicky led her

tenderly to a seat in the shade of the acacias, she favoured the

injured leg heavily.

"I heard there is going to be a battle. That's really why I came.

I heard the Italians are advancing-" She looked round her brightly,

seeming to thrust her pain and weariness aside. "Where are Jake and

Gareth? Where is Gregorius? We must not miss the battle, Miss

Camberwell "That's what I am working on." Vicky's smile faded. "They

have left us behind."

"What!" Sara's bright look became bellicose and then outraged as Vicky

explained how they had been edged out.

"Men! You cannot trust them, "fumed Sara. "If they aren't trying to

tip you on your back, then it's something worse.

We aren't going to let them do it, are we?"

"No," Vicky agreed.

"We are most certainly not." With Sara beside her, it was impossible

to continue her work on the armoured car, for the girl made up for a

total ignorance of the mechanism by an unbounded curiosity and when