'We're bitched!' he said, his voice unsteady. 'We can't hope to get through there!'
Ken turned and looked sharply at him. Seeing his ashen face and how his hands were shaking, he realized this was a man with no head for heights and felt sorry for him.
'Look, Lew, you get out. I think I can get through. It'll be a tight squeeze, but it can be done.'
'Don't be a fool! You'll kill your goddamn self!'
Ken shouted to Themba. 'Can I do it?'
The Bantu stood in the middle of the track and regarded the Land Rover, then he nodded.
'Just,' he said.
'What's he say?' Fennel demanded.
'He thinks it's all right.'
'All right? Hell! You'll go over!'
'You get out.'
Fennel hesitated, then picking up his tool bag, he got down on to the track.
'Wait a minute,' he said, sweat pouring down his face, 'If you're going to kill yourself, I'm goin to get all the equipment off first. If she goes over, we'll be stuck without food or drink.'
'Maybe you have something there,' Ken said with a wide grin. He climbed over the back and Themba realizing what they were doing joined them. The three men carefully lifted off the tarpaulin, draining the rain water on to the track, then they hastily unloaded all the equipment.
Fennel glanced at his watch. It was 10.55 hrs.
'We'll have a beer,' he said. 'In five minutes you have to contact Edwards. How much farther have we to go?'
Ken consulted Themba as he opened two beer bottles.
'About twenty kilometres. Then another ten kilometres to the big house,' Themba told him.
Ken translated.
'Rough going?'
Themba said once over this bit the going was good.
They finished the beer and then Ken picked up the two-way radio.
'Ken to Garry . . . are you receiving me?'
Immediately: 'Garry to Ken . . . loud and clear. How goes it?'
Briefly Ken explained the situation.
'Sounds dicey. Look, Ken, why not use the winch? Anchor ahead and wind yourself in. If the truck slips you have a chance to jump.'
'Idea. Roger. Call you back. Out.'
'I bet he feels smug,' Fennel growled. 'Did he say if he's laid that bitch yet?'
'Skip it, Lew,' Ken said impatiently. He talked to Themba who nodded and taking the tarpaulin cover off the winch, he ran the cable out until he was beyond the narrowest part of the track. Ken gave Fennel the drag.
'You any good at splicing? It's got to be secure.'
'I'll fix it.'
Averting his eyes from the drop on his right, Fennel joined Themba, anchor in hand, his tool bag slung over his shoulder. It took him a little over half an hour before he was satisfied. While he worked, Ken sat behind the wheel and smoked. He had steady nerves and was quite cool. He knew there was a risk, but he was also confident that he could get through.
Finally Fennel stood up.
'It's okay.'
