had fallen silent, and he could see no Baluba on the north bank. They
must have disappeared back into the jungle.
Bruce plunged into the river and struck out for the south bank.
Vaguely he heard the thin high shouts of encouragement from his
gendarmes.
Within a dozen strokes he knew he was in difficulties.
The drag of his boots and his sodden uniform was enormous.
Treading water he tore off his steel helmet and let it sink.
Then he tried to struggle out of his battle-jacket. It clung to his arms
and chest and he disappeared under the surface four times before he
finally got rid of it. He had breathed water into his lungs and his legs
were tired and heavy.
The south bank was too far away. He would never make it.
Coughing painfully he changed his objective and struck upstream against
the current towards the bridge.
He felt himself settling lower in the water; he had to force his arms to
lift and fall forward into each stroke.
1 Something plopped into the water close beside him. He paid no
attention to it; suddenly a sense of disinterest had come over him, the
first stage of drowning. He mistimed a breath and sucked in more water.
The pain of it goaded him into a fresh burst of coughing. He hung in the
water, gasping and hacking painfully.
Again something plopped close by, and this time he lifted his head. An
arrow floated past him - then they began dropping steadily around him.
Baluba hidden in the thick bush above the beach were shooting at him; a
gentle pattering rain of arrows splashed around his head. Bruce started
swimming again, clawing his way frantically upstream. He swam until he
could no longer lift his arms clear of the surface and the weight of his
boots dragged his feet down.
Again he lifted his head. The bridge was close, not thirty feet away,
but he knew that those thirty feet were as good as thirty miles.
He could not make it.
The arrows that fell about him were no longer a source f terror.
He thought of them only with mild irritation.
Why the hell can't they leave me alone? I don't want to play any more. I
just want to relax. I'm so tired, so terribly tired.
He stopped moving and felt the water rise up coolly over his mouth and
nose.
Hold on, boss. I'm coming.' The shout penetrated through the grey fog of
Bruce's drowning brain. He kicked and his head rose once more above the
surface. He looked up at the bridge.
Stark naked, big belly swinging with each pace, thick legs flying, the
great dangling bunch of his genitals bouncing merrily, black as a
charging hippopotamus, Sergeant Major Ruffararo galloped out along the
bridge.
He reached the fallen section and hauled himself up on to the guard
rail. The arrows were falling around him, hissing down like angry
insects. One glanced off his shoulder without penetrating and
Ruffy shrugged at it, then launched himself up and out, falling in an
