their eyes.
I didn't think to use one of the horses, Centaine whispered. 'Oh, it will be terrible if I have guessed wrongly. Hansmeyer let the mare drink until she was satiated, and then Blaine ordered, Take her back to the lines. He checked his wristwatch. We'll give her an hour, he decided, and took Centaine's hand. He led her to the shade thrown by the overhang of the bank and they sat together.
You say you knew him? he asked at last. How well did you know him? He worked for me, years ago. He did the first development work at the mine. He is an engineer, you know. Yes. I know he is an engineer. It's in his file. He was silent. You must have got to know him very well for him to admit something like that to you? It's a very intimate thing, a man's guilt. She did not reply. What can I tell him? she thought. That I was Lothar De La Rey's mistress? That I loved him and bore him a son? Suddenly Blaine chuckled. Jealousy is really one of the most unlovely emotions, isn't it? I withdraw the question.
It was impertinent. Forgive me. She laid her hand on his arm and smiled at him gratefully.
That doesn't mean I have forgiven you for the fright you gave me, he told her with mock severity. I could still quite happily turn you over my knee. The thought of it gave her a funny little perverse twinge of excitement. His rage had frightened her and that excited her also. He had not shaved since they had left the mission.
His new beard was thick and dark as the pelt of an otter except there was a single silver hair in it. It grew at the corner of his mouth, shining like a star in the night.
What are you staring at? he asked.
I was wondering if your beard would scratch, if you decided to kiss me instead of spanking me. She saw him struggling like a drowning man in a rip tide of temptation. She imagined the fears and the doubts and the anguish of wanting that boiled behind those green eyes, and she waited, her face turned up to him, neither pulling back nor thrusting forward, waiting for him to accept the inevitability of it.
When he took her mouth it was fiercely, almost roughly, as though he was angry with his own inability to resist, and angry with her for leading him into this dangerous wilderness of infidelity. He sucked all the strength out of her body so that she went limp in his arms, only the grip of her own arms around his neck matched his and her mouth was deep and wet and soft and open for him to probe.
He broke away from her at last and sprang to his feet. He stood over her, looking down at her. May God have pity on us, he whispered, and strode away up the bank, leaving her alone with her joy and disquiet and guilt and with the raging flame he had kindled in her belly.
Sergeant Hansmeyer summoned her at last. He came to the pool and stood at the top of the bank.
Colonel Malcomess is asking for you, Missus. She followed him back to the horse lines, and she felt strangely detached from reality. Her feet seemed not to touch the earth and everything was dreamlike and far away.
Blaine stood with the lame mare, holding her head and stroking her neck. She made little fluttering sounds in her nostrils and nibbled at the front of his tunic. Blaine looked over her head as Centaine came up on the mare's other side.
They stared at each other.
No turning back, he said softly, and she accepted the ambiguity of his words. We go forward, together. Yes, Blaine, she agreed meekly.
And to hell with the consequences, he said harshly.
A second longer they held each other's eyes, and then Blaine lifted his voice. Sergeant, water all the horses and fill the bottles. We have nine hours to make up on the chase. They kept going through the night. The little Bushmen stayed on the spoor with only the stars and a sliver of moon to light it for them, and when the sun rose the tracks were still strung out ahead of them, each filled with purple shadow by the acutely slanted rays.
Now there were four riders in the fleeing band, for the horse herder from the fountain had joined them and they were leading a spare horse each.
An hour after dawn, they found where the fugitives had camped the previous night. Lothar had abandoned two of his horses here; they had broken down from the brutal treatment, hard riding in these severe conditions. They stood beside the remains of the camp fire which Lothar had smothered with sand. Kwi brushed away the sand and knelt to blow on the ashes, a tiny flame sprang up under his breath and he grinned like a pixie.
We have made up five or six hours on them while they slept, Blaine murmured, and looked at Centaine. She straightened up immediately from her weary slump but she was pale and light-headed with fatigue.
He's using up his horses like a prodigal, she said, and they both looked at the two animals that Lothar had abandoned. They stood with heads hanging, muzzles almost touching the ground, a pair of chestnut mares, one with a white blazed forehead and the other with white socks.
Both of them moved only with pain and difficulty, and their tongues were black and swollen, protruding from the sides of their mouths.
He did not waste water on them, Blaine agreed. Poor devils. 'You will have to put them down, Centaine said.
That's why he left them, Centaine, he said gently.
I don't understand. The shots, he explained. He'll be listening for gunfire job Blaine! What are we going to do? We can't leave them. Make coffee and breakfast. We are all played out, horses and men. We must rest for a few hours before we go on. He swung down from the saddle and untied his blanket roll. in the meantime I will take care of the cripples. He shook out his sheepskin under-blanket as he walked across to the first mare. He stopped in front of her and unbuckled the flap of his holster. He drew his service pistol and wrapped the sheepskin over his right hand that held the pistol.
The mare dropped instantly to the muted thud of the pistol, and kicked spasmodically before relaxing into stillness. Centaine looked away, busying herself with measuring coffee into the billy as Blaine walked heavily across to the blazed chesnut mare.
There was a tiny movement of air, not truly a sound, light as the flirt of a sun-bird's wing, but both Swart Hendrick and Lothar De La Rey lifted their heads and pulled up their mounts. Lothar raised his hand for silence and they waited, holding their breath.
It came again, another spit of distant muted gunfire, and Lothar and Hendrick glanced at each other.
