Both heads were masks of blood now, eyelids blinking rapidly, the eyeballs smeared with flying blood from wound and bite, the fur of the faces plastered with black blood, blood filling the mouths and turning the exposed teeth pink, trickling from the corners of the jaw, staining the froth of saliva bright rose red.
Twice more they came together, each charge initiated by the smaller squatter Chaka, but each time the Dobermann avoided the solid contact of chest to chest for which Chaka's instincts dictated that he must keep trying.
Instead, Chaka received two more slashes deeply through F the brindled skin, into the flesh, down to white bone, so that when his next charge carried him to the wall he left a broad thick smear of red across the white-wash before turning to attack again.
The Dobermann was humped up from the belly wound, arching his back to the agony of it, but fast and lithe still, not trying for another hold since that fool's hold at the shoulder, but cutting hard and deep and keeping off his opponent like a skilled boxer.
Chaka was losing too much blood now, and as he circled again he lolled his tongue for the first time, frothy saliva discoloured with blood dripping from it, and Dirk swore aloud at this sign of weakness and imminent collapse.
Big Kaiser attacked again now, cutting in sharply as though for the throat and then turning in a low dark streak for another weakening flank cut. As he hit, Chaka turned into him steeply, and snapped at his lean belly again, reaching low and with fortune taking a hold on the bulging entrails that showed in the open flap of the wound.
Instantly the terrier went stiff on his forelegs, and hunched his neck, bringing his chin down on to his chest to hold the grip. The Dobermann's charge carried him on and his entrails were pulled out of him, a long thick glistening ribbon in the lantern light, and the women screamed, high with anguished delight, while the men roared.
Chaka crossed the bigger dog's rump now, still holding his guts and tangled his back legs in the slippery rubbery pink tubes that hung out of the stomach cavity, so that he stumbled off-balance, and the terrier lunged forward, hitting him solidly with the chest, knocking him into the air so he dropped onto his back, screaming and kicking.
Chaka's follow-up was so instinctive, so natural to his breed, that it was swift as the flash of a striking adder and he had his killing hold, locked deep and hard into the throat, bearing down with the solid bone of his jaws, snuffling and working his head on the short hunched neck until his long eye teeth met in the Dobermann's windpipe.
Dirk Courtney jumped down lightly from the parapet, his laugh was pitched unnaturally high and his face was darkened to a congested sullen red as he whipped off his do& and turned the carcass of the Dobermann with the toe of his boot. A fair kill? he laughed up at Charles, and the man glowered down at him a moment before shrugging acknowledgement of defeat and turning away.
Dicky Lancome sat with the voice-piece of the telephone set on the desk in front of him and the ear-piece held loosely to his cheek, trapped there by a hunched shoulder while he trimmed his finger-nails with a gold-plated penknife.
what can I say, old girl, except that I am desolate, but then Aunty Hortense was rich as that fellow that turned everything to gold, that's right Midas, or was it Croesus, I just cannot give her funeral a miss, you do understand?
You don't? and he sighed dramatically, as he returned the penknife to his waistcoat pocket and began to thumb through the address book for the other girl's number. No, old girl, how can you say that? Are you certain? Must have been my sister It was almost noon on Saturday morning and Dicky had the premises of Natal Motors to himself. He was making his domestic arrangements for the weekend on the firm's telephone account before locking up, and finding some wisdom in the admonition against changing mounts in midstream.
At that moment he was distracted by the crack of footsteps on the marbled floor of the showroom, and he swivelled his chair f or a glimpse through the door of his cubicle.
There was no mistaking the tall figure that strode through the street doors, the wide shoulders and thrusting bearded jaw, the dark glint of eyes like those of an old eagle. Oh, Lord preserve us, Dicky breathed, his guilty conscience delivering a heavy jolt into his belly. General Courtney, and he let the ear-piece of the telephone drop and dangle on its cord, while he slid forward stealthily from his chair and crawled into shelter below his desk, knees drawn up to his chin.
He could imagine exactly why General Courtney was calling. He had come to discuss the insult to his daughter in person, and Dicky Lancome had heard enough about the General's temper to want to avoid joining this discussion.
Now he listened like a night animal for the stalk of the leopard, cocking his head for the sound of further footsteps and bating his breath to a shallow cautious trickle, in order not to disclose his hiding-place.
The ear-piece of the telephone still dangled on its cord, and now it emitted the high-pitched distorted voice of an irate female. Without leaving the cover of the desk, he reached out to try and muffle the ear-piece, but it dangled tantalizing inches beyond his finger-tips. Dicky Lancome, I know you are there, squawked the tinny voice, and Dick wriggled forward another inch.
A hand, in size not unlike that of a bull gorilla, entered Dicky's field of vision, closed on the ear-piece, and placed it in Dicky's outstretched fingers.
Please allow me, said a deep gravelly voice from somewhere above the desk. Thank you, sir, whispered Dicky, trying not to draw too much attention to himself even at this stage. For want of anything better to do, he listened respectfully to the earpiece. It is no good pretending not to be listening, said the female voice. I know all about you and that blonde hussy, I expect you need this, said the deep voice from on high, and the hand passed the mouthpiece of the telephone down into his hiding-place. Thank you, sir, Dicky whispered again, uncertain as to which emotion dominated him at that moment, humiliation or trepidation.
He cleared his throat and spoke into the telephone.
'Darling, I have to go now, he croaked. I have an extremely important client in the shop. He hoped that the touch of flattery might sweeten the coming encounter. He broke the connection and crawled out unwillingly on his hands and knees. General Courtney! He dusted himself down and smoothed his hair, assembled his dignity and salesman's smile. We are honoured. I hope I did not interrupt you in anything important? Only the sapphire twinkle in the heavily browed eyes betrayed the General's amusement. By no means, Dicky assured him, I was , he looked around wildly for inspiration, I was merely meditating. Ah! Sean Courtney nodded. That explains it. How can I be of service to you, General? Dicky went on hurriedly. I wanted to find out about a young salesman of yours Mark Anders.
