When we were on the march up from Walvis in 1915, he broke off as little Kwi came trotting up to them chattering excitedly. What does he say? He asked.
One of the men we are following is sick, Centaine answered quickly. Kwi has found these bandages. Kwi had a double handful of stained and soiled cloth which he offered to Centaine.
Put them down, Kwi, she ordered sharply. She could smell the pus and corruption on the bundle. Obediently Kwi set it down at her feet, and Blaine drew the bayonet from its scabbard on his belt to spread the strips of cloth on the sand.
The mask! Centaine exclaimed, as she recognized the flour sack that Lothar had worn over his head. it was stiff with dried blood and yellow pus, as were the strips torn from a khaki shirt.
The sick man lay down while the other changed the saddles to the new horses, and then they had to lift him to his feet and help him to mount. Kwi had read all this from the spoor.
I bit him, Centaine said softly. While we were struggling I sank my teeth into his wrist. I felt the bone. it was a very deep wound I gave him. A human bite is almost as dangerous as a snake bite, Blaine nodded. Untreated it will nearly always turn to blood-poisoning. De La Rey is a sick man, and his arm must be a mess, judging by these. He touched the reeking bandages with the toe of his riding-boot. We would have had him. In his condition, we would almost certainly have caught him before he reached the Okavango river. If only we had enough water to go on. He turned away, unwilling to watch her unhappiness, and he spoke sharply to Sergeant Hansmeyer. 'Half water rations from now on, Sergeant. We will start back to the mission at nightfall. Travel in the cool of the night. Centaine could not stand still. She whirled and strode back towards the water-hole, and stood at the top of the bank staring at the notice board with its fatal message.
How could you do it, Lothar? she whispered. You are a hard and desperate man, but this is a dreadful thing, She went slowly down the steep bank and squatted at the edge of the water. She reached out and touched the water with her fingertip. It was cold, cold as death, she thought, and wiped the finger carefully on the leg of her breeches as she stared into the pool.
She thought about Blaine's remark, I have only seen it done once before. When we were on the march up from Walvis in 1915, and suddenly a forgotten conversation sprang up from deep in her mind where it had lain buried all these years. She remembered Lothar De La Rey's face in the firelight, his eyes haunted as he confessed to her.
We had to do it, or at least at the time I thought we did.
The Union forces were pressing us so hard. If I had guessed at the consequences, He had broken off and stared into the fire. She had loved him so dearly then. She had been his woman. Though she did not yet know it, she already had his child in her womb, and she had reached out and taken his hand to comfort him.
It doesn't matter, she had whispered, but he had turned a tragic face to her.
It does matter, Centaine, he had told her. It was the foulest thing I have ever done. I returned to the water- hole a month later like a murderer. I could smell it from a mile or more. The dead were everywhere, zebra and gemsbok, jackals and little desert foxes, birds, even the vultures that had feasted on the rotting carcasses. So much death. It was something that I will remember on the day I die, the one thing in my life of which I am truly ashamed, something I will have to answer for. Centaine straightened up slowly. She felt her rage and disappointment slowly snuffed out by a rising tide of excitement. She touched the water again and watched the circle of ripples spread out across the limpid surface.
He meant it, she spoke aloud. He was truly ashamed.
He could never have done the same thing again. She shivered with dread as she decided what she was going to do, and to bolster her courage she went on in a voice that shook slightly, It's a bluff. The notice is a bluff. It must be, then she broke off as she remembered the three dead horses. He put them down. They were finished, and he used poison on them as part of the bluff. Probably gave it to them in a bucket, but not the water-hole. He wouldn't have done that twice. Slowly she took the hat from her head and used the wide brim to skim the floating layer of dust and rubbish from the surface of the pool. Then she scooped a hatful of the clear cool water, holding it in both hands, steeling herself to do it. She took a deep breath and touched the water with her lips.
Centaine! Blaine roared in shock and rage as he bounded down the bank and snatched the hat out of her hands. The water splashed over her legs soaking her breeches. He seized her by the arms and jerked her to her feet. His face was swollen and dark, his eyes blazing with anger as he shouted in her face. Have you gone stark staring mad, woman? He was shaking her brutally, his fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arms.
Blaine, you are hurting me. Hurting you? I could willingly thrash you, you crazy Blaine, it's a bluff, I'm sure of it. She was frightened of him. His rage was a terrible thing to watch. Blaine. Please!
Please listen to me. She saw the change in his eyes as he regained control. Oh God, he said, I thought, You are hurting me, she repeated stupidly, and he released her.
I'm sorry. He was panting as though he had run a marathon. 'Don't do that to me again, woman, next time I don't know what I will do. Blaine! Listen to me. It's a bluff. He didn't poison the water. I would stake my life on it. ,you almost did, he growled at her, but he was listening now. How did you reach that conclusion? He leaned closer to her, interested and ready to be convinced.
I knew him once. Knew him well. I heard him make an oath. it was he who poisoned the water-hole you talked about, back in 1915. He admitted it, but he swore that he would never be able to do it again. He described the carnage at the water-hole, and he swore an oath. The dead horses lying out there, Blaine demanded, how do you explain them? All right. He poisoned them. He would have to have destroyed them anyway. They were broken; he couldn't leave them for the lions. He strode to the edge of the water and stared down into it.
You were going to take that chance, he broke off and shuddered, then turned from the water and called sharply.
Sergeant Hansmeyer! Sir. The sergeant hurried across from the horse lines.
Sergeant, bring the lame mare to me, and Hansmeyer went to the lines and led the animal back. She was favouring her right fore and they would have to leave her anyway.
Let her drink! Blaine ordered.
Sir? Hansmeyer looked puzzled, and then when he realized Blaine's intention, he became alarmed. From the spring? It's poisoned, sir. That's what we are going to find out, Blaine told him grimly. Let her drink! Eagerly the black mare scrambled down the bank and bent her long neck to the pool.
She sucked up the water in great gulps. It sloshed and gurgled into her belly, and she seemed to swell before
