of safety, Gino lifted himself from the floorboards where he had been
resting these last few minutes. He looked cautiously over the rear of
the Rolls, and what he saw caused him to let out a single strangled cry
and to drop once more into his original position on the floor.
Behind them the Ethiopian armoured car had burst out of the dust clouds
and was bounding determinedly after them.
The Count took one look also, and immediately resumed his encouragement
of Giuseppe, beating on his head with a fist like a judge's gavel.
'Faster, Giuseppe!' he shrieked. 'If he kills us, I'll have you
shot.' And the Rolls raced for the protection of the guns.
ready now!' intoned Major Castelani gravely, trying by the tone of his
voice to quiet their nerves.
'Steady, my lads. Hold your fire. Hold your fire.
'Remember your drill,' he said. 'Just remember your range drill,
soldier.' He paused a moment beside the nearest gun layer lifting his
binoculars and sweeping the field ahead.
The dust cloud was rolling rapidly towards them, but all the action was
confused and indistinct.
'You are loaded with high explosive?' the Major asked quietly, and the
gun-layer gulped nervously and nodded.
'Remember, the first shot is the only one you can aim with care.
Make it count.'
'Sir.' The man's voice was unsteady, and Castelani felt a stab of
anger and contempt. They were all un blooded boys, unsteady and
nervous. He had been forced to push them to their places and put the
trails of the guns in their hands.
He turned abruptly, and strode to the next battery.
'Steady now, lads. Hold your fire until it counts.' They turned
strained, pale faces to him; one of the layers looked as though he
would burst into tears at any moment.
'The only thing you have to be afraid of is me! growled
Castelani. 'Let one of you open fire before I give the order and
you'll-' A cry interrupted him, as one of the loaders stood up and
pointed out on to the field.
'Take that man's name,' snapped Castelani, and turned with dignity,
making a show of polishing the lens of his binoculars on his sleeve
before raising them to his eyes.
Colonel Count Aldo Belli was leading his men back so enthusiastically
that he had outstripped them by half a mile, and every moment was
widening the gap. He was driving directly at the centre of the
artillery batteries, and he was standing tall in the back seat of the
Rolls, with both arms waving and gesticulating as though he was being
attacked by a swarm of bees.
Even as Castelani watched, from out of the brown curtains of dust
beyond the Rolls burst a machine that he recognized instantly, despite
its new camouflage paint and the unfamiliar weapon in the turret. It
did not need the gay pennant that flew above it to identify his
enemy.
'Very well, lads,' he said quietly. 'Here they come. High explosive,
and wait for the order. Not a moment before.' The speeding armoured
