'Ras Kullah's men are assembled there. He has agreed to send fifteen
hundred horsemen to join my father, and they will follow you-' He got
no further, for Sara intervened hotly.
'Miss Camberwell must not be left alone with those hyenas of Kullah's.
They would eat their own mothers.' The Lij smiled and held up a hand.
'My own bodyguard will ride with Miss Camberwell, under my strict
charge to protect her at all times.'
'I do not like it,' pouted Sara, and groped for Vicky's hand.
'I will be all right, Sara.' She stooped and kissed the girl, who
clung to her for an instant.
will come soon,' whispered Sara, 'Do nothing until I am with you.
Perhaps it should be Gareth after all,' and Vicky chuckled.
'You're getting me confused.'
'Yes,' agreed Sara. 'That's why I
should be there to advise you.' Mikhael and Vicky stood side by side
on the hull of Miss Wobbly and shaded the sun from their eyes as they
watched the aircraft come in between the peaks.
As a pilot Vicky could appreciate the difficulty of the approach,
down into the bowl of Sardi, where treacherous down-draughts fell along
the cliffs, creating whirlpools of turbulence. The sun had already
dispelled the chill of the night making the high mountain air even
thinner and more treacherous.
Vicky recognized the aircraft type immediately, for she had trained for
her own pilot's licence on a similar model.
It was a Puss Moth, a small sky-blue high-winged monoplane,
powered by the versatile De Havilland four-cylinder aero engine. It
would carry a pilot and two passengers in a tricycle arrangement of
seating, the pilot up front in an enclosed cabin under the broad sweep
of the wings. Seeing the familiar aircraft reminded her, with a
fleeting but bitter pang, of those golden untroubled days before
October 1929, before that black Friday of evil reputation. Those
idyllic days when she had been the only daughter of a rich man, spoilt
and pampered, plied with such toys as motor cars and speed boats and
aircraft.
All that had been swept away in a single day. Everything had gone,
even that adoring godlike figure that had been her father dead by his
own hand. She felt the chill of it still, the sense of terrible loss,
and she turned her thoughts aside and concentrated on the approaching
aircraft.
The pilot came in down the western pass under the cliffs, then turned
steeply and side-slipped in towards the only piece of open ground in
the valley that was free of rocks and oles- It was used as a stockyard,
gymkhana ground or polo field as the need arose and at the moment the
ankle-deep grass was providing grazing for fifty goats.
Ras Kullah's horsemen drove the goats from the field at a gallop,
and then as the Puss Moth touched down, they wheeled and tore down the
field at its wing-tips, firing their rifles into the air and vying with
each other to perform feats of horsemanship.
The pilot taxied to where the car stood and opened the side window. He
