feed chute and was sucked into the spinning steel rollers with a continuous roar. One hundred and fifty tons an hour; it went in one end as chalky lumps the size of ripe watermelons and poured out the far end as gravel and dust.
Annalisa's brother, Stoffel, who had on Shasa's last visit to the H'ani adjusted the timing on his old Ford and who was also the skilled mimic of bird calls, was now an apprentice in the mill house. He was delegated to show Shasa around, and undertook the assignment with gusto and relish.
You have to be goddamned careful with the mucking settings on the rollers or you crush the bloody diamonds to powder. Stoffel emphasized his newly acquired manliness and authority with oaths and obscenity.
Come on, Shasa, I'll show you the grease points. All points have to be grease-gunned at the beginning of every shift. He crawled under the bank of thundering rollers, shouting into Shasa's ear to make himself heard. Last month one of the other apprentices got his fucking arm in the bearing. It pulled it off like a chicken's wing, man. You should have seen the blood. Ghoulishly he pointed out the dried stains on the concrete floor and galvanized walls. Man, I tell you, he squirted blood like a garden hose. Stoffel climbed the steel catwalk like a monkey and they looked down on the roller mill tables. 'One of the Ovambo kaffirs fell off here, right smack into the ore bin, there wasn't even a scrap of bone bigger than your finger left of him when he came out the other end of the rollers. Ja, man, it's a bloody dangerous job, he told Shasa proudly. You've got to keep on your mucking toes all the time. When the mine hooter blew the lunch hour he led Shasa around to the shady side of the mill house and they perched comfortably on the ventilator housing. Under the sanction of the. work place they could associate quite openly, and Shasa felt grown-up and important in his blue workman's overalls as he opened the lunch box that the chef at the bungalow had sent down for him.
Chicken and tongue sandwiches and jam roly-poly, he checked the contents. Do you want some, Stoffel? No, man. Here comes my sister with my lunch. And Shasa lost all interest in his own lunch box.
Annalisa was pedalling down the avenue on a black-framed Rudge with the nest of canteens dangling from the handlebars. It was the first time that he had seen her since the meeting at the pumphouse, though he had looked for her each day since then. She had tucked her skirts into her bloomers to keep them clear of the chain. She stood up on the pedals and her legs pumped rhythmically as she came through the gates of the mill house and the wind flattened the thin stuff of her dress against the front of her body.
Her breasts were disproportionately large for her slim brown limbs.
Shasa watched her with total fascination. She became aware of him, sitting beside her brother, and her entire bearing changed. She dropped back onto the saddle and squared her shoulders, lifting one hand from the handlebars to try and smooth the windblown tangle of her hair. She braked the Rudge, stepped down off the pedals and propped the machine against the bottom of the ventilator housing.
What's for lunch, Lisa? Stoffel Botha demanded.
Sausage and mash. She handed the canteens up to him.
Same as always. The sleeves of her dress were cut back and when she lifted her arms Shasa saw the bush of coarse blond hair in her armpits tangled and wet with perspiration and he crossed his legs quickly.
Sis, man! Stoffel registered his disgust. It's always sausage and mash! Next time I'll ask Ma to cook fillet steak and mushrooms. She lowered her arms and Shasa realized he was staring but could not stop himself. She pulled the opening at the neck of her blouse closed and he saw a faint flush under the suntanned skin at her throat, but she had not yet looked directly at him.
Thanks for nothing, Stoffel dismissed her, but she lingered.
You can have some of mine, Shasa offered.
I'll swop you, Stoffel offered generously, and Shasa glanced into the canteen and saw the lumpy potato mash swimming in thin greasy gravy.
I'm not hungry. He spoke to the girl for the first time.
Would you like a sandwich, Annalisar She smoothed the skirt over her hips and looked directly at him at last. Her eyes slanted like a wild cat's, and she grinned slyly.
When I want something from you, Shasa Courtney, I will whistle for it, like this. She pouted her lips into a rosy cupid's bow and whistled like a snake charmer, at the same time slowly raising her forefinger in an unmistakably obscene gesture.
Stoffel let out a delighted guffaw and punched Shasa's arm, Man, she's got the hots for you! While Shasa blushed scarlet, and sat speechless with shock, Annalisa turned away deliberately and picked up the bicycle. She went out through the gates standing on the pedals and swinging the Rudge from side to side under her so that her tight round buttocks oscillated with each stroke.
That evening as he turned Prester John onto the pipe track Shasa's pulse started to gallop with anticipation, and as he approached the pumphouse he slowed the pony to a walk, afraid of disappointment, reluctant to turn the corner of the building.
Yet he was still not prepared for the shock when he saw her. She was draped languidly against one of the stanchions of the pipeline, and Shasa was speechless as she came slowly upright and sauntered to the head of his pony without looking up at the rider.
She held the cheek strap of his halter and crooned to the pony. 'What a pretty boy- The pony blew through his nostrils, and shifted his weight. What a lovely soft nose. She stroked his muzzle with a lingering touch.
would you like a little kiss then, my pretty boy. She pursed her lips, pink and soft and moist, and glanced up at Shasa before she leaned forward and deliberately kissed the pony's muzzle, slipping her arms around his neck. She held the kiss for long seconds and then laid her cheek against the pony's cheek. Beginning to sway, humming softly in her throat and rocking her hips gently, she at last looked up at Shasa with those sly slanting eyes.
He was struggling to find something to say, confused by the rush of his emotions, and she moved slowly to the pony's shoulder and stroked his flank.
So strong. Her hand brushed Shasa's thigh lightly, almost unintentionally, and then came back more deliberately and she was no longer looking at his face. He could not cover himself, could not hide his violent reaction to her touch, and suddenly she let out a shocking screech of laughter and stood back with both hands on her hips.
Are you going to camp out, Shasa Courtney? she demanded, and he was puzzled and embarrassed. He shook his head dumbly.
