moon in the sky outside. Sean could not sleep: he was thinking about the bushbuck. He heard his parents pass the door of the bedroom; his stepmother said something and his father laughed: Waite Courtney had a laugh as deep as distant thunder.
Sean heard the door of their room close and he sat up in bed. Garry. No answer. Garry He picked up a boot and threw it; there was a grunt. Garry.
What you want? Garrick's voice was sleepy and irritable. I was just thinking, tomorrow's Friday SO? Ma and Pa will be going into town. They'll be away all day. We could take the shotgun and go lay for that old inkonka Garrick's bed creaked with alarm. You're mad! Garrick could not keep the shock out of his voice. Pa would kill us if he caught us with the shotgun. Even as he said it he knew he would have to find a stronger argument than that to dissuade his brother. Sean avoided punishment if possible, but a chance at a bushbuck ram was worth all his father's right arm could give.
Garrick lay rigid in his bed, searching for words. Besides, Pa keeps the cartridges locked up it was a good try, but Sean countered it.
I know where there are, two buckshots that he has forgotten about: they're in the big vase in the dining-room. They've been there over a month.
Garrick was sweating. He could almost feel the siambok curling round his buttocks, and hear his father counting the strokes: eight, nine, ten.
Please, Sean, let's think of something else.....
Across the room Sean settled back comfortably on his pillows. The decision had been made.
Waite Courtney handed his wife UP into the front seat of the buggy. He patted her arm affectionately then walked around to the driver's side, Pausing to fondle the horses and settle his hat down over his bald head. He was a big man the buggy dipped under his weight as he climbed up into the seat. He gathered up the reins, then he turned and his eyes laughed over his great hooked nose at the twins standing together on the veranda. I would esteem it a favour if you two gentlemen could arrange to stay out of trouble for the few hours that your mother and I will be away Yes, Pa, in dutiful chorus. Sean, if You get the urge to climb the big blue gum tree again then fight it, man fight itAll right, Pa. Garrick, let us have no more experiments in the manufacture of gunpowder, agreed? Yes, PaAnd don't look so innocent. That really frightens the hell out of me!
Waite touched the whip to the shiny round rumps in front of him and the buggy started forward, out along the road to Lady-burg. He didn't say anything about not taking the shotgun whispered Sean virtuously. Now you go and see if all the servants are out of the way, if they see us, they'll kick up a fuss. Then come round to the bedroom window and I'll pass it out to you Sean and Garrick argued all the way to the foot of the escarpment. Sean was carrying the shotgun across one shoulder, hanging onto the butt with both hands.
It was my idea, wasn't it! he demanded. But I saw the inkonka first, protested Garrick. Garrick was bold again: with every yard put between him and the house his fear of reprisal faded. That doesn't count, Sean informed him. I thought of the shotgun, so I do the shooting. How come you always have the fun? asked Garrick, and Sean was outraged at the question.
When you found the hawk's nest by the river, I let you climb for it. Didn't I? When you found the baby duiker, I let you feed it. Didn't I? he demanded.
, All right. So I saw the inkonka first, why don't you let me take the shot?
Sean was silent in the face of such stubbornness, but his grip on the butt of the shotgun tightened. In order to win the argument Garrick would have to get it away from him, this Garrick knew and he started to sulk. Sean stopped among the trees at the foot of the escarpment and looked over his shoulder at his brother. Are you going to help, or must I do it alone? Garrick looked down at the ground and kicked at a twig. He sniffed wetly; his hay-fever was always bad in the mornings. Well? asked Sean. What do you want me to do? Stay here and count to a thousand Slowly.
I'm going to circle up the slope and wait where the inkonka crossed yesterday. When You finish counting Come UP the gulley.
Start shouting when you are about halfway up. The inkonka will break the same way as yesterday, all right?
Garrick nodded reluctantly. Did you bring Tinker's chain? Garrick pulled it from his pocket, and at the sight of it the dog backed away. Sean grabbed his collar, and Garrick slipped it on. Tinker laid his ears flat and looked at them reproachfully.
Don't let him go. That old inkonka will rip him up.
Now start counting, said Sean and began climbing. He kept well out to the left of the gulley. The grass on the slope was slippery under his feet the gun was heavy and there were sharp lumps of rock in the grass. He stubbed his toe and it started to bleed, but he kept on upwards.
There was a dead tree on the edge of the bush that Sean had used to mark the bushbuck's hide. Sean climbed above it and stopped just below the crest of the slope where the moving grass would break up the silhouette of his head on the skyline. He was panting. He found a rock the size of a beer barrel to use as a rest for the gun, and he crouched behind it. He laid the stock of the gun on the rock, aimed back down the hill and traversed the barrels left and right to make sure his field of fire was clear. He iMAgined the bushbuck running in his sights and he felt excitement shiver along his forearms, across his shoulders and up the back of his neck. I won't lead on him, he'll be moving fairly slowly, trotting most probably. I'll go straight at his shoulders, he whispered.
He opened the gun, took the two cartridges out of his shirt pocket, slid them into the breeches and snapped the gun closed. It took all the strength of both his hands to pull back the big fancy hammers, but he managed it and the gun was double-loaded and cocked. He laid it on the rock in front of him again and stared down the slope. On his left the gulley was a dark-green smear on the hillside, directly below him was open grass where the bushbuck would cross. He pushed impatiently at the hair on his forehead: it was damp with sweat and stayed up out of his eyes.
The minutes drifted by.
rWhat the hell is Garry doing? He's so stupid sometimes! Sean muttered and almost in answer he heard Garrick shout below him. It was a small sound, far down the slope and muffled by the bush. Tinker barked once without enthusiasm; he was also Sulking, he didn't like the chain. Sean waited with his forefinger on one trigger, staring down at the edge of the bush. Garrick shouted again, and the bushbuck broke from cover.
it came fast into the open with its nose up and its long horns held flat against its back. Sean moved his body sideways swinging the gun with its run, riding the pip of the foresight on its black shoulder. He fired the left barrel and the recoil threw him off balance; his ears hummed with the shot and the burnt powder smoke blew back into his face. He struggled to his feet still holding the gun. The bushbuck was down in the grass, bleating like a lamb and kicking as it died. I got him, screamed Sean. I got him first shot! Garry, Garry! I got him, I got him!
Tinker came pelting out of the bush dragging Garry behind him by the chain and, still screaming, Sean ran down to join them. A stone rolled under his foot and he fell. The shotgun flew out of his hand and the second barrel fired. The sound of the explosion was very loud.
When Sean scrambled onto his feet again Garrick was sitting in the grass whimpering,-whimpering and staring at his leg. The blast of the shotgun had smashed into it and churned the flesh below the knee into tatters, bursting it open so the bone chips showed white in the wound and the blood pumped dark and strong and thick as custard. I didn't mean it.... Oh God, Garry, I didn't mean it. I slipped. Honest, I slipped. Sean was staring at the leg also. There was no colour in his face, his eyes were big and dark with horror. The blood pumped out onto the grass.
Stop it bleeding! Sean, please stop it. Oh, it's sore Oh!
Sean, please stop itV Sean stumbled across to him. He wanted to vomit. He unbuckled his belt and strapped it round the leg and the blood was warm and sticky On his hands. He used his sheathed knife to twist the belt tight. The pumping slowed and he twisted harder. Oh, Sean, it's sore! It's sore. Garrick's face was waxy-white and he was starting to shiver as the cold hand of shock closed on him. I'll get Joseph, Sean stammered. We'll come back quickly as we can. Oh, God, I'm sorry! Sean jumped up and ran. He fell, rolled to his feet and kept running.
They came within an hour. Sean was leading three of the Zulu servants. Joseph, the cook, had brought a blanket. He wrapped Garrick and lifted him and Garrick fainted as his leg swung loosely. As they started back down the hill, Sean looked out across the flats: there was a little puff of dust on the Lady-burg road. One Of the grooms was riding to fetch Waite Courtney.
They were waiting on the veranda of the homestead when Waite Courtney, came back to Theunis Kraal. Garrick was conscious again. He lay on the couch: his face was white and the blood had soaked through the blanket.
There was blood on Joseph's uniform and blood had dried black on Sean's hands. Waite Courtney ran up onto the veranda; he stooped over Garrick and drew back the blanket. For a second he stood staring at the leg and then very gently he covered it again.
Waite lifted Garrick and carried him down to the buggy.
Joseph went with him and they settled Garrick on the back seat. Joseph held his body and Garrick's stepmother took the leg on her lap to stop it twisting. Waite Courtney climbed quickly into the driver's seat: he picked up the reins, then he turned his head and looked at Sean still Standing on the veranda. He didn't speak, but his eyes were terrible, Sean
