up by the collapse lit the surroundings even more vividly. It showed another figure beyond the line of Askari, scampering in from the edge of the bush like a little black monkey, and Rosa heard Nanny's voice.
'Little Long Hair! Little Long Hair.' A plaintive, ancient wail.
Nanny had escaped into the bush during the first minutes of the attack. She had lain there watching until the roof of e could no longer contain the bungalow fell in then she if. Insensible of her own danger, caring for nothing herself except her precious charges, she was coming back The Askari saw her also. Their rigid, well-spaced line d as all of thin ran to head her off. Suddenly the crumple ground between Rosa and the edge of the bush was clear.
Now there was a chance just the smallest chance that she could get the child away. She flung the window open and dropped through it to the earth.
One moment she hesitated and glanced towards the confusion of running men away on her right hand. In that moment she saw one of the Askari catch up with the old woman and lunge forward with his bayonet. Nanny reeled from the force of the blow in her back. Involuntarily her arms were flung wide open, and for a fleeting second Rosa saw the point of the bayonet appear miraculously from the centre of her chest, as it impaled her.
Then Rosa was running towards the wall of bush and scrub fifty yards ahead of her, while Maria howled in her arms. The sound attracted the attention of the Askari. One of them shouted a warning, and then the whole pack was after her in full tongue.
Rosa's senses were overwrought by her terror, so finely tuned that it seemed the passage of time was lagging.
Weighed down by the child, each pace she took dragged on for ever, as though she waded through waistdeep water.
The long nightdress around her legs hampered her, and there was rough stone and thorn beneath her bare feet. The wall of bush ahead of her seemed to come no closer, and she ran with the cold hand of fear squeezing her chest and cramping her breathing.
Then into her line of vision from the side came a man, an Askari, a big man bounding towards her with the long loping gallop of a bull baboon, cutting across her line of flight,
his open mouth an obscene pink pit in the shiny black of his face.
Rosa screamed and swung away from him. Now she was running parallel to the edge of the bush and behind her she heard the slap of feet upon the earth, closing fast, and the babbling chorus of the pursuit.
A hand snatched at her shoulder, and she twisted away from it,
feeling the stuff of her nightgown tear beneath the clutching fingers.
Blind with terror she stumbled a dozen paces back towards the burning homestead. She felt the vast waves of heat from it in her face and through her thin clothing and then a rifle butt struck her in the small of the back, and a bright burst of agony paralysed her legs. She dropped to her knees, still holding Maria.
They ringed her in, a palisade of human bodies and gloating,
blood-crazed faces.
The big one who had felled her with the rifle butt stooped over her and before she recognized his intention, he had snatched Maria from her arms and stepped back again.
He stood laughing, holding the child by her ankles, letting her swing head downwards, so her tiny face was suffused with blood, scarlet in the light of the flames.
'No, please, no! 'Rosa crawled painfully towards the Man.
'Give her back to me. My baby. Please give her back,' and she lifted her arms towards him.
The Askari dangled the child tantalizingly in front of her,
retreating slowly as she crawled towards him. The others were laughing, hoarse sensual laughter, crowding around her, faces contorted with enjoyment, and polished ebony black with the sweat of excitement,
as they jostled each other for a better view of the sport.
Then with a wild yell, the Askari swung Maria high, whirled her twice above his head as he pivoted to face the bungalow, and threw Maria up towards the burning roof. The tiny body flew with the looseness of a rag doll through the air, her night-dress fluttered as she dropped and struck the roof, rolled awkwardly down the slope of it with her clothing blooming into instant flame, until she reached a weak spot in the burning thatch. It sucked Maria in like a fiery mouth and blew a belch of sparks as it swallowed her.
that instant Rosa heard the voice of her child for the last time. It was a sound she was never to forget.
For a moment the men about her were hushed, and then as though wind blew through trees, they moved a little with a sound that was half sigh, half moan.
Still kneeling, facing the burning building which was now a pyre,
Rosa slumped forward and lifted her hands to cover her face as though in prayer.
The Askari who had thrown the child snatched up his rifle from where it lay at his feet and stood over her. He lifted it above his head the way a harpooner holds his steel with the point of the bayonet aimed at the base of Rosa's neck where her hair had fallen open to expose the pale skin.
In the moment that the Askari paused to take his aim, Herman
Fleischer shot him in the back of the head with the Luger.
'Mad dog!' the Commissioner shouted at the Askari's corpse. 'I
told you to take them alive.' Then, breathing like an asthma case from the exertion of his run to intervene, he turned to Rosa.
Frulein, my apologies,' he doffed the slouch hat with ponderous courtesy, and spoke in German that Rosa did not understand. 'We do not make war on women and babies.' She did not look up at him. She was crying quietly into her cupped hands.
Early in the year for a bush fire,' Flynn muttered. He sat with an enamel mug cupped in his hands and blew steam from the hot coffee. His blanket had slid down to his waist.
Across the camp-fire from him Sebastian was also sitting in a muddle of bedding, and cooling his own pre-dawm mug of coffee. At
Flynn's words he looked up from his labour, and out into the dark south.
False dawn had paled the sky just enough to define the hills below it as an undulating mass that seemed much closer than it was. That way lay Lalapanzi, , Maria. and Rosa and Without real interest Sebastian saw the radiated glow at one point along the spine of the ridge; a fan of pink light no larger than a thUmb-nail.
'Not a very big one, 'he said.
'No,' agreed Flynn. 'Hope she doesn't spread though and he gulped noisily at his mug.
As Sebastian watched it idly, the glow diminished, shrinking into insignificance at the coming of the sun, and above it the stars paled out also.
'We'd best get moving. It's a long day's march and we've wasted enough time on this trip already.' 'You're a regular bloody fire-eater when it comes to getting your home comforts.' Flynn feigned disinterest, yet secretly the thought of returning to his granddaughter had strong appeal. He hurried the coffee a little and scalded his tongue.
Sebastian was right- They had wasted a lot of time on the return trip from the Mahenge raid.
,44 First, there was a detour to avoid a party of German Askari that one of the native headmen had warned them was at M'tapa's village. They had trekked upstream for three days before finding a safe crossing, and a village willing to hire canoes.
Then there was the brush with the hippo which had cost them almost a week. As was usual practice, the four hired canoes, loaded to within a few inches of freeboard with Flynn, Sebastian, their retinue and loot, had slipped across the Rovuma and were hugging the Portuguese bank as they headed downstream towards the landing opposite M'tapa's village when the hippo had disputed their passage.
She was an old cow hippo who a few hours earlier had given birth to her calf in a tiny island of reeds, separated from the south bank by twenty feet of lily-padded water.
When the four canoes entered this channel in line astern with the paddlers chanting happily, she took it as a direct threat to her offspring and she threw a tantrum.
Two tons of hippo in a tantrum has the destructive force of a localized hurricane. Surfacing violently from under the leading canoe,
she had thrown Sebastian, two gun-boys, four paddlers, and all their equipment, ten feet in the air.
The canoe, rotted with beetle, had snapped in half and sunk immediately.
The mother hippo had then treated the three following canoes with the same consideration, and within the space of a few minutes, the canal was clogged with floating debris, and struggling, panic-stricken men. Fortunately they were ashore. None of them, however, was very far behind him, no more than ten feet from the bank. Sebastian was first and they all took off like the start of a cross-country race over the veld, when the hippo emerged from the river and signified that, not satisfied with wrecking the flotilla, she intended chopping a few of them in half with her guillotine jaws.
A hundred yards later she abandoned the pursuit, and trotted back to the water, wiggling her little ears and snorting in triumph. Half a mile farther on the survivors had stopped
