a short heavily built man, with a big alert head seeming out of
proportion to his body.
His hair was cropped short and grizzled to the round skull, but David
found himself liking the bright bird eyes and the readiness of his
smile. His hand was warm, but dry and firm. Debra was drawn to, him
also, and smiled when she picked up the timbre of his voice and the
essential warmth of his personality.
As they went into dinner, she asked David what he looked like, and
laughed with delight when he replied.
Like a koala bear, and they were talking easily together before the fish
course was served. Friedman's wife, a slim girl with horned-rimmed
spectacles, neither beautiful nor plain, but with her husband's
forthright friendly manner, leaned across him to join the conversation
and David heard her say, Won't you come to lunch tomorrow? If you can
stand a brood of squalling kids. We don't usually, Debra replied, but
David could hear her wavering, and she turned to him.
May we -? 'and he agreed and then they were laughing like old friends,
but David was silent and withdrawn, knowing it was all subterfuge and
suddenly oppressed by the surging chorus of human voices and the clatter
of cutlery. He found himself longing for the night silence of the
bushveld, and the solitude which was not solitude with Debra to share
it.
When the master of ceremonies rose to introduce the speaker, David found
it an intense relief to know the ordeal was drawing to a close and he
could soon hurry away with Debra to hide from the prying, knowing eyes.
The introductory speech was smooth and professional, the jokes raised a
chuckle, but it lacked substance, five minutes after you would not
remember what had been said.
Then the Brig rose and looked about him with a kind of Olympian scorn,
the warrior's contempt for the soft men, and though these rich and
powerful men seemed to quail beneath the stare, yet David sensed that
they enjoyed it. They derived some strange vicarious pleasure from this
man. He was a figurehead, he gave to them a deep confidence, a point on
which their spirits could rally. He was one of them, and yet apart. it
seemed that he was a storehouse of the race's pride and strength.
Even David was surprised by the power that flowed from the lean old
warrior, the compelling presence with which he filled the huge room and
dominated his audience. He seemed immortal and invincible, and David's
own emotions stirred, his own pulse quickened and he found himself
carried along on the flood.
but for all of this there is a price to pay. Part of this price is
constant vigil, constant readiness. Each of us is ready at any moment
to answer the call to the defence of what is ours, and each of us must
be ready to make without question whatever sacrifice is demanded. This
can be life itself, or something every bit as dear Suddenly David
realized that the Brig had singled him out, and that they were staring
at each other across the room. The Brig was sending him a message of
strength, of courage, but it was misinterpreted by others in the
gathering.
They saw the silent exchange between the two men, and many of them knew
