'Themba!' Ken shouted. 'Themba!'
The silence that greeted them sent a chill through them. Ken broke into a run. The others followed him.
Reaching the tree, Ken stopped. He knew it was the tree under which they had left Themba. Not only did he recognize the stunted thorn bush he had noticed when he had left with Fennel, but there was a heap of firewood piled by the tree. Under this tree had been their jerry can of water, the bag of food and the Springfield rifle. There was no sign of any of these things. 'The bastard's skipped with our stuff!' Fennel snarled. 'He wouldn't do that. Something's happened to him.'
It was Garry who spotted the grave away to his right.
'What's that?'
They looked at the mound of freshly turned earth and moving together, they approached it.
So there should be no mistake as to what lay under the soil, placed on top of it was Themba's Australian bush hat.
Ken was the first to realize what had happened.
'They killed him, and they've taken the food, the water and the rifle,' he said huskily.
For a long moment they all stood staring down at the grave.
Pulling himself together, Garry said, 'Well, we now know what to expect. We've got to get moving. Look, Ken, Fennel's told you about the four exits. I'm opting to go south. They'll expect us to go by the west exit. With luck, by going south and through the swamps, they may not be able to track us. What do you think?'
'It depends how bad the swamps are. They can be sheer hell, and that's crocodile country.'
'All the same, I think it's our best bet. Have you a compass?'
Ken produced a small compass from his pocket.
'I'm a qualified navigator,' Garry went on. 'Do you want me to lead the way or will you do it?'
'You do it. I've always relied on Themba.'
'Then we go south.' Garry steadied the compass and got a bearing. 'Let's go.'
He started along a track with Gaye at his heels. Fennel and Ken followed behind.
None of them said anything. Themba's death had shocked them all. The danger that was threatening them had been sharply brought home to them.
They moved at a fast pace. The time was now 04.50 hrs. In a little more than two hours the Zulus would be after them.
They had been walking for some twenty minutes when Garry stopped and checked the compass.
'This track's beginning to curve to the west,' he said as the other two came up. 'We'll have to leave it and cut through the jungle.'
They looked at the high tangled grass and the thorny shrubs and the trees.
'That's going to slow us up like hell,' Fennel complained.
'Can't be helped. We've got to go south and that's the way to the south.'
'I don't want to scare you,' Ken said quietly, 'but this is snake country. Keep your eyes skinned.'
Gaye clutched hold of Garry's arm.
'Don't worry,' he said, forcing a grin. 'I'll look after you. Let's go.'
They began to toil through the thick matted grass, zig zagging around the trees, aware of the chattering monkeys overhead.
Garry kept checking the compass. While Kahlenberg had been talking, Garry had been studying the wall map. He had realized that the river could be their salvation for he remembered as he flew over the estate, seeing the river in the distance and also seeing a small town to the south of it. The river was now vitally important to them as they had no water with them.
But he was also aware that since entering the jungle, their pace had slackened and he felt pretty sure the Zulus would have much less difficulty in covering this kind of ground than they were having.
