A Pride of Lions (12 page)

“Wait,” he breathed. “Wait until they actually close in. We’ve got to get them with the goods in their hands.”

I nodded breathlessly, sure that they would have heard him speak, but they went on talking as before. Hugo crept a little closer with me following behind in his footprints. If the Africans didn’t hear us, the hyenas were sure to, I thought anxiously. I slipped the safety catch off the rifle, scarcely aware that I was doing so. A twig broke beneath my feet and the bush-baby’s eerie howl echoed once more around us.

I held my breath. One of the poachers, losing interest in the talk of the others, raised his spear and threatened the leader of the hyena pack. The animal snarled back at him, edging closer to the group of men. The man lost his nerve and threw his spear at the angry beast. The hyena howled in agony, but it kept on coming. I thought it would pull the man down and raised the rifle to my shoulder, keeping the hyena in my sights. The hyena sprang and I fired. The rifle kicked back into my shoulder painfully, but I held on to it as though my life depended on it. The hyena fell back dead and the rest of the pack began to ooze away into the darkness where they turned again to face this unknown menace. I could see their eyes shining in the darkness, completely ringing the dead mound of elephant, the Africans, Hugo and I.

Surprisingly, I was no longer as afraid as I had been. The poachers, startled by the rifle shot, looked almost ridiculous as they stared through the darkness to where we were standing. One of them called out something in a dialect that I couldn’t understand. Hugo answered him, quietly, an attractive lilt to his voice that I found soothing. He advanced a few steps, his rifle in one hand and a torch in the other. He flashed the light in their faces and said, quite gently, that they were to come closer.

The men were undecided. They clung together, assessing the situation in their minds. I stepped bravely out beside Hugo, my rifle at the ready, though nothing would have induced me to use it again.

“You will not use an elephant gun on a man,” the leader of the poachers said nervously to Hugo.

“No,” Hugo agreed.

“But the
memsahib
will use her gun?”

Hugo’s lips twitched. “I hope not,” he said. I could only wonder at his strange sense of humour that could allow him to joke at a time like this.

The man pointed towards the hyena. “Why did she kill that?” His brow crinkled in the light from the torch. “It is known that animals are protected in this place.”

“Would you rather I had allowed the hyena to kill one of you?” I asked indignantly, unable to keep silent a minute longer.

“It is still against the law to kill the animals in the park,” the man retorted.

Hugo looked grim. “I have the necessary authority,” he snapped. “What authority did you have for killing this elephant?”

The poacher looked completely blank. “I?” he repeated. “I know nothing of any elephant.”

“But I saw you!” I accused him hotly. “I saw you from an aeroplane! I recognise your blanket!” This made him angry. Apparently he was not prepared to deny that he knew anything about the aeroplane. The coming of the plane was the one thing he had not allowed for in his plans. Perhaps he thought we had taken photographs of them all, I don’t know, but angry he certainly was. He waved his spear about in the air and cursed us thoroughly in his own peculiar dialect.

“Put down your weapons,” Hugo said sternly. “I’m arresting the lot of you for poaching. Now! Put down your weapons!”

There was a clatter of wood against steel as the men did so. All except one. Too late, I saw their leader wave his spear in the air one last time and, with a perfectly balanced movement of his body, fling the spear in my direction. I ducked out of instinct, but I was too late to get completely out of the way. It caught me on my upper left arm. The force of the weapon pushed me off balance and I collapsed backwards on to the ground. At the same moment I must have pulled the trigger of the rifle, for there was a shattering roar, followed by a blaze of light and a great deal of hustling and bustling that meant nothing to me. I rather think I must have fainted.

The lights turned out to be headlights. They cast long shadows all round me, shadows that were frightening and suspect to my bewildered state of mind.

“Where did they come from?” I pleaded with anyone to tell me.

“Johnny sent them,” Hugo answered. He was so close that I could have reached out a hand and touched him. “Apparently they thought the rifle shot was a signal for them to show themselves.”

I lost interest rapidly, aware only of a nagging ache in my arm. “Hugo,” I said, “don’t go away!”

“I won’t,” he said comfortably.

My mind cleared a little and I tried to move, but the spear was still effectively pinning me to the ground. “I can’t move!” I cried out.

Yes, you can,” he retorted with scant sympathy. “You daft female! Whatever induced you to start an argument like that?” I was breathless with the injustice of it all.

“Indeed?” I said fiercely. “He was going to get away with it!
You
couldn’t have identified him!”

“There wasn’t the slightest necessity to identify anyone at that particular moment,” he answered with impeccable logic. “You’d better hold my hand, my sweet, because I’m about to hurt you rather badly. Are you ready?”

“I’ll do it myself!” I said childishly.

“And deny me my best sadistic impulses?” he demanded. “Not on your life!”

I had always known he was a brute, but that didn’t prevent me from holding his hand as if my life depended on it. I heard him say that someone had better hold my arm and I was astonished when it was Katundi—where had he come from?— whose gentle black hands held me steady while Hugo drew out the spear with a single, sharp movement.

“Ah,
mama,
you must be brave in the eyes of your man,” Katundi whispered, dismayed by my yelp of pain.

Hugo grinned down at me. “Well, well,” he said.

I wished I were dead.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he went on in quite different tones, “but I shall have to clean the wound.” He gave Katundi some detailed instructions as to what to do and then, opening a flask, he poured what smelt like whisky into the bloody gash in my arm.

It was the most agonising moment of my life.

When it was over, he was kind. He pushed Katundi out of the way and hugged me tightly to him. “There, there, my darling. It’s all over now!”

I wept bitterly. “Much you care!” I sobbed.

I could feel his laughter. “I care,” he said dryly. “Even if it was all your own fault!”

I pulled myself away from him. “I might have known you’d find something
beastly
to say!” I stormed at him. I made an attempt to get up, for I felt at a distinct disadvantage, reclining on the ground at his feet. My knees felt as though they weren’t there and I was sure that I had broken every bone in my body.

My distress was only equalled by my astonishment as I looked about me. There must have been half a dozen vehicles ringing the tree where we had spent the greater part of the afternoon.
Askaris,
uniformed and looking very official, swarmed everywhere. And there, in the centre of all the fuss, was Janice, calmly taking photographs of everything in sight. “Katundi brought her,” Hugo told me. “Very lucky for you!”

I watched the blood oozing out of my arm with a fascinated interest. “Why?” I asked him.

“Because, my love, when I’ve bound you up, they’re going to take you to Voi Safari Lodge for a good night’s sleep. They have a doctor there and your arm can be properly attended to.”

I felt cold inside “I won’t go!” I said.

“Why not?” he shot back. Something in my expression must have told him, for he went on abruptly: “I can’t come with you. Johnny will be back in the morning and I have to deal with the lions—”

“Who wants you?” I said lightly.

He had found a bandage in the Red Cross Box we had taken from the aeroplane and he set about bandaging up my arm with calm efficiency. When he had done, he took one last look at me and called to Katundi.

“Help Memsahib into the car,” he ordered briefly. “Then take her and memsahib Kemp to Voi Lodge.”

I was quite glad to get into the nearest Landcruiser. I was shaking with sheer reaction to the ordeal I had been through. I thought I was going to be sick, but Hugo brought me some whisky and stood over me until I had swallowed about half of what he had left in the flask. I no longer felt sick after that, but my brain felt more woolly than ever.

Janice jumped into the back of the Landcruiser, delightedly laughing at something Hugo had said to her.

“I’ll look after her,” she said.

“I don’t need any looking after!” I protested wearily. The
askaris
were pushing the poachers into special vehicles that were caged in at the back and the hyenas were still howling in the background. “Did you get some good photos?” I asked dully.

“Not bad,” she said in triumph, “not bad at all!”

Katundi climbed into the driving seat and started up the engine. He gave me a quick, searching look. “Try to sleep,
mama,
it’s only a few miles.”

I tried to smile back at him, failed miserably, and slumped back into my seat, shutting my eyes so that I could be miserable in peace. So I was not aware that Hugo had leaned into the car until I felt his lips hard on mine.

“That’s to give you something to think about until I next see you!” he said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Safari Lodge at Voi was the dream realisation of what we hoped Chui Lodge was going to be. We arrived in darkness, so I had no idea of what the surroundings were like, and anyway, I was too sore and tired to care. But I could not ignore the sheer beauty of the reception area, round in shape, with odd pieces of the living rock left to give interest and contrast to the polished stone floor. Away to the left were the dining room and bar. To the right were the bedrooms, so designed that each one had the same spectacular view across miles and miles of red earth and bush. In the front of the Lodge the ground fell away in an almost perpendicular descent at the bottom of which were two artificial waterholes to attract the animals.

Katundi helped me down the steps, rather pleased by the immediate interest we caused amongst the guests and reception staff alike. Janice, however, was not amused. She swept up to the desk and collared the nearest blue-coated receptionist.

“My friend needs a room and a doctor,” she announced in ringing tones. “And I need a room and a bath!”

Almost before I was aware, she had gathered up the keys of our rooms and had whisked me away up the stairs and along the passage to the nearer of the two rooms. Here, too, she was unexpectedly efficient.

“I brought a nightdress with me. It looks as though you’d better wear it, though—at least until you’ve seen the doctor! Can you manage? Or do you want some help?”

I thought I would be able to manage. I struggled out of my clothes, the effort making my arm start to bleed again. When I looked down at the sodden bandage round my arm, I felt slightly sick. But at least I was ready and a bit cleaner, even if I couldn’t have the bath that I longed for, and I slipped into bed.

I was not much too soon. Janice returned with the doctor. I remember being surprised that he was a European, but his hands were gentle.

“This is a nasty mess you’ve got yourself into, Miss deJong. But don’t worry, someone did a good job of patching you up, and I’ll give you something to take the pain away.”

He was as good as his word. With fresh bandages and a shot of something that made me feel sleepy, if almost as good as new, I revelled in the comfort of the bed, which was sheer bliss after the one I had at the camp.

“Will it leave a bad scar?” Janice asked the doctor on my behalf.

“It will not be so bad,” he grunted. “It will show, of course, if you wear a sleeveless dress.” He smiled down at me. “It’s an honourable wound! I think you may be proud of it!”

I winced. “Hugo said it was all my own fault!”

“He did? He was probably hiding his worry for you.”

“That’s all you know!” I said grimly.

The doctor laughed. “Be reasonable, Miss deJong. How could you know that the fellow was going to fling a spear at you?”

Slightly mollified, I relaxed against the pillows. “The maddening thing is that he was right!” I sighed. “Have you ever known anyone who was
always
right?”

“I can’t say that I have,” he said with a smile.

“Then you don’t know Hugo Canning,” I said.

The doctor shook his head at me. “But I know of him, Miss deJong. He is a charming man from all accounts.”

“Oh yes!” I agreed eagerly. “He’s a charming man, besides being brave and handsome and everything one could wish!
And completely ungallant!”

The doctor’s eyes twinkled. “I believe you’re feeling better already,” he said with satisfaction. “But you would do well to spend a very quiet day tomorrow. Would you like me to contact the camp to tell them you won’t be back until Tuesday?”

Janice was pleased by the offer. “She’ll be all right, won’t she, doctor?” she fussed.