'Themba thinks so, so long as it doesn't rain too hard. If it really rains then we are in trouble.'
'Well; some people have all the luck,' Fennel said, looking over at Garry, but Garry wasn't to be drawn. He got up and walked over to watch Themba cooking the birds. He wished he could speak Afrikaans. There was something about the big Bantu's face that appealed to him. As if reading his thoughts, Themba looked up and grinned cheerfully and then continued to turn the spit.
Gaye joined Garry.
'Hmmmm, smells good . . . I'm starving.'
Themba raised a finger and crossed it with, a finger of his left hand.
'That means you have to wait half an hour,' Garry said. 'Come over to the chopper. I'll tell you about it.'
They walked over to the helicopter.
Fennel watched them, his eyes glittering. Ken had no desire to talk to him. He went over and joined Themba. They spoke together in Afrikaans.
'Looks like rain soon?' Ken said, squatting beside the Bantu.
'Could come tonight.'
Ken grimaced.
'Well, we've got the winch. If that doesn't pull us out, nothing will.'
'Yes.'
They talked on. Half an hour later, the birds were cooked. It was dark now and the air heavy and close. They oil sat around the fire, eating with their fingers. Without Fennel, he party could have been gay, but his dour expression and his silence killed any light-hearted atmosphere.
When they had finished and Themba had cleared up, Ken said, 'I'm turning in. We have to be up early tomorrow.'
'Yes . . . I'm dying to sleep.' Gaye got to her feet.
'Give you five minutes to get into your bag,' Ken said, then I'm coming in.'
Gaye disappeared into the tent.
'I guess I'll join you,' Garry said, stretching. 'That was some meal.' He looked at Fennel. 'You turning in?'
'Is the smoke sleeping in there?'
'If you mean is Themba sleeping in there . . . he is.'
Fennel spat in the fire.
'I don't dig breathing the same air as a black man.'
'Okay . . . take your sleeping bag out then.'
Fennel got swiftly to his feet and advanced on Ken, his fists clenched. He was much more powerfully built than Ken who wouldn't have stood a chance against him. Garry stepped between them, facing Fennel.
'I'm getting fed up with you,' he said evenly. 'If you're aching to hit some one, hit me.'
Fennel eyed him, hesitated, then backed away.
'Go to hell,' he growled and sat down. He sat by the dying fire long after the others were sleeping, then finally realizing he must get some sleep, he entered the tent and crawled into his sleeping bag.
Towards 02.00 hrs. the sound of rain drumming on the roof of the tent woke them all.
Above the sound of the rain came the choked roar of a lion.
Chapter Six
Fennel came awake as someone turned on a powerful flashlight. He could see Ken wriggling out of his
