them to pieces.
Pace after slow steady pace, they moved forward. Time and again their
way was blocked by sullen groups of tall dark Gallas, who stood
shoulder to shoulder fingering their weapons, then Jake twisted the
muzzle of the pistol into Ras Kullah's soft skin. The man cried out
and reluctantly the way opened, the dark warriors moving aside just
sufficiently to let them pass, and then falling in behind them and
following closely, so closely the leaders were always within arm's
length.
Once they were clear of the pack, Jake could increase the pace and he
moved steadily up the path through the camel-thorn, shepherding the
terrified Italians ahead of him and dragging Ras Kullah bodily along.
'What are we going to do with them?' Vicky asked breathlessly.
'We can't keep Kullah at gun point much longer.' Jake did not
answer;
he did not want the closely following Gallas to hear the uncertainty in
his voice, yet he didn't want the girl to show signs of fear.
She was right, of course, the Gallas followed them now with an
implacable malevolence, pressing closely in an avenging throng that
filled the darkness.
the cars-' said Jake, as inspiration came to him. 'Get them into one
of the cars.'
'And then?'
'One thing at a time,' growled Jake.
'Let's get them into the car first.' And they moved steadily up the
path, the Gallas pressing them more closely. One of the tall cloaked
figures jostled Jake roughly, trying him, beginning to push harder,
and
Jake moved smoothly, swinging his weight across and swivelling a
quarter of a turn. It was so swift that the Galla could not avoid the
blow; even if he had seen it, he was hemmed in and constrained by the
press of his comrades' bodies.
Jake hit him with a forearm chop, and the barrel of the pistol caught
him in the mouth, snapping off his front teeth cleanly from the upper
gum, and the shock of the blow was transferred directly through the
frontal sinuses to the brain.
The man dropped without a sound and was immediately hidden from view by
the men who stumbled over him as they followed. But they did not press
so hard now, and Jake switched the pistol back to Ras
Kullah's head. The entire incident was over before Kullah could cry
out or squirm in the punishing grip that had bruised and twisted his
upper arm.
Jake shifted his grip again, forcing the man farther off balance,
and hustled him on more urgently. Ahead of them, through the trees, he
could make out the ugly humped shapes of the cars, silver grey in the
moonlight and silhouetted by the dying ash heaps of the camp fires.
'Vicky, we'll use Miss Wobbly. I'm not taking a chance on
Priscilla starting first kick,' he grated. 'Use the driver's hatch.
Don't worry about anything else but getting behind that wheel.'
'What about the prisoners?'
