Hump.
From the shelter of the shattered hull, Gareth Swales watched his hopes
of quick rescue fading rapidly in the shape of the dwindling cavalry.
'Don't blame them, not really,' he told the Ras, and then he looked
across at the speeding armoured car. Priscilla the Pig was rapidly
overhauling the cavalry.
'He saw us, - I know he did.' There had 'Him I do,' he muttered.
been a moment when Priscilla the Pig had passed within a quarter of a
mile of them, had in fact turned directly towards them for a few
moments. 'Do you know something, Rassey old fellow, I do believe we
are being set up for a couple of Patsys.' He glanced at the Ras, who
lay beside him like an old hunting dog that has been worked too hard;
his chest laboured like a blacksmith's bellows, and his breathing
whistled shrilly in his throat.
'Better take those choppers out of your mouth, old chap or else you're
going to swallow them. The fighting's over for the day. Take it nice
and easy now. We've got a long walk home tonight.' And Gareth
Swales transferred all his attention back to the disappearing car.
'Big-hearted Jake Barton is leaving us here and going home to spoon up
the honey. Who was the chap that David pulled the same trick on? Come
on, Rassey, you are the Old Testament expert wasn't it
Uriah the Hittite?' He shook his head sadly. Gareth was already ready
to believe the worst. 'I take it very much amiss, Rassey, I can tell
you.
Probably have done exactly the same myself, mind you but I do take it
amiss gaming from a fine upright citizen like Jake Barton.' The Ras
had not listened to a word of it. He was the only man in the two
armies for whom the battle had not ended.
He was just having a short rest, as behave a warrior of his advanced
years. Now, with a single bound, he was on his feet again,
snatching up his sword and heading directly for the centre of the
Italian batteries. Gareth was taken completely off balance, and the
Ras had covered fifty yards of the necessary two thousand to the enemy
positions before Gareth could overtake him.
It was unfortunate that one of the Italian gun-layers had his
binoculars focused on the derelict hull of the Hump at that moment.
The belligerence of the Italian gunners was in inverse proportion to
the number and proximity of the enemy and all of them were giddy with
elation at the total and unexpected victory that had dropped into their
laps.
The first shell dropped close beside the broken hull of the Hump,
as Gareth caught up with the Ras. Gareth stooped and picked up a
rounded stone, about the size of a cricket ball.
'Frightfully sorry, old chap,' he panted, as he cupped the stone in his
right hand. 'But we really can't go on like this.' He made allowance
for the brittle old bone of the Ras's skull, and with the stone he
tapped him carefully, almost tenderly, above the ear, on the polished
black bald curve of the Ras's pate.
As the Ras dropped, Gareth caught him, one arm under his knees and the
