The great slabs of rock with their sheer sides and square tops looked
like a ruined castle. The low sun struck it and gave the rock an orange
warmth.
But Bruce had no time to admire the scene; his eyes were on the earth,
searching for the prints of Hendry's jungle boots.
Out on his left Sergeant Jacque whistled sharply and Bruce felt the leap
of excitement in his chest. He ran across to the crouching gendarme.
'It has come away.' Jacque pointed at the spoor that was strung ahead of
them like beads on a string, skirting the edge of the vlei, each
depression filled with shadow and standing out clearly on the sandy grey
earth.
'Too late,' groaned Bruce. 'Damn those bloody zebra.' The light
was fading so swiftly it seemed as though it were a stage effect.
'Follow it.' Bruce's voice was sharp with helpless frustration.
'Follow it as long as you can.' It was not a quarter of a mile farther
on that Jacque rose out of his crouch and only the white of his teeth
showed in the darkness as he spoke.
'We will lose it again if we go on.'
'All right.' Bruce unslung his rifle with weary resignation.
He knew that Wally Hendry was at least forty miles ahead of them; more
if he kept travelling after dark. The spoor was cold. If this had been
an ordinary hunt he would long ago have broken off the chase.
He looked up at the sky. In the north the stars were fat and
yellow, but above them and to the south it was black with cloud.
'Don't let it rain,' he whispered. 'Please God, don't let it rain.' The
night was long. Bruce slept once for perhaps two hours and then the
strength of his hatred woke him. He lay flat upon his back and stared up
at the sky. It was all dark with clouds; only occasionally they opened
and let the stars shine briefly through.
'It must not rain. It must not rain.' He repeated it like a prayer,
staring up at the dark sky, concentrating upon it as though by the force
of his mind he could control the elements.
There were lions hunting in the forest. He heard the male roaring,
moving up from the south, and once his two lionesses answered him. They
killed a little before dawn and Bruce lay on the hard earth and listened
to their jubilation over the kill. Then there was silence as they began
to feed.
That I might have success as well, he thought. I do not often ask for
favours, Lord, but grant me this one. I ask it not only for myself but
for Shermaine and the others.
In his mind he saw again the two children lying where Hendry had shot
them. The smear of mingled blood and chocolate across the boy's cheek.
He deserves to die, prayed Bruce, so please don't let it rain.
As long as the night had been, that quickly came the dawn. A grey dawn,
gloomy with low cloud.
'Will it go?' Bruce asked for the twentieth time, and this time
Jacque looked up from where he knelt beside the spoor.
'We can try now.' They moved off slowly with Jacque leading, doubled
over to peer shortsightedly at the earth and Bruce close behind him,
