From this height the Nile was a broad, glittering serpent uncoiling into
the first bend of the oxbow, its surface ruffled by rapids and rocky
reefs. The high ground on either bank formed standing waves of up-thrust
basalt, turbulent and chopped into confusion like a storm sea in a
tropical typhoon. The whole danced and shimmered in the heat and the sun
beat down with the blows of an executioner's axe, pounding this universe
of red rock into heat exhausted submission.
Though the air danced and trembled with the mirage in the tenses of his
binoculars, Boris traced out the rough trail beside the rier, and
followed it down the valley to the point where it was hidden by the
bend. It was deserted, with no sign of human presence, and he knew that
his quarry had moved on out of sight. He had no way of telling how far
down the trail they had travelled - he knew only that he must hurry on
if he were to cut them off on the far side of the mountain.
For the first time since he had left the'river, he drank sparingly from
the water bottle. He realized how the heat and the exertion of the climb
had dehydrated him. In these conditions a man without water might be
dead in hours. It was not in the least surprising that there was so
little permanent human habitation down here in the gorge.
When he backed off the skyline he felt rejuvenated, and set out to cross
the saddle of the mountain. It was less than a mile across, and without
warning he came out on the top of the cliffs on the far side. One more
unwary pace and he would have stepped off into space and plunged down a
thousand feet. Once again he moved along the crest until he found a
concealed vantage point from which to spy the terrain below.
The river was the same - a wide and confused expanse of white-ruffled
rapids, running back towards him as it turned through the leg of the
oxbow. The trail followed the near bank, except where it was forced to
detour inland by the rugged bluffs and stone needles which rose out of
the Nile waters.
In the great desolation of the gorge he could pick out no movement other
than the run of wild waters and the ceaseless dance of the heat mirage.
He knew it was not possible that Mek Nimmur had moved fast enough to
have passed completely ahead of him; therefore he must still be coming
around the bend of the oxbow.
He drank again, and rested for almost half an hour.
At the end of that time he felt strong and fully recovered.
He debated with himself whether to descend immediately and stake out an
ambush on the' trail, but in the end decided to keep to the high ground
until he had his quarry in sight.
He checked his rifle carefully, making sure that the telescopic sight
had not been bumped out of alignment during the climb, and then emptied
the magazine and examined the five cartridges. The brass case of one of
them was dented and discoloured, so he discarded it and reloaded with
another from his belt. He chambered a round and setthe safety-catch.
He set the weapon aside while he changed his sweat, dampened socks with
a fresh dry pair from his pack and retied his bootlaces with care. Only
a novice would risk blistered feet in these conditions, for within hours
they would be infected and festering.
