Gaye made an effort and quickened her pace. They kept on, but after a couple of kilometres, she again began to lag and Garry found he had to force her on. He was seriously worried now. She seemed to be walking in her sleep, dragging one foot after the other.
'You're feeling rotten, aren't you?' he said at last. 'What is it?'
'My head feels as if it is going to burst . . . I suppose it's the sun.'
'Let's rest for a moment.'
'No . . . I'll manage. Just don't fuss.'
Another three kilometres brought them to a place Garry was hoping to find. The jungle fell away, either side of the river mud flats with no cover spread out before them.
'This is where we cross,' Garry said. He eyed the swift moving river. 'Do you think you can manage, Gaye?'
'Yes, if you keep near me.'
Fennel came to the edge of the bank and surveyed the water suspiciously.
'Are you going first?' he asked Garry.
'Don't get excited . . . it's safe enough and it's not far across,' Garry said curtly. He led Gaye to some shade. 'Sit down. I want to find a branch of a tree to get our stuff over dry.'
She sank down as Garry went off into the jungle.
Fennel eyed her, thinking all the glamour had gone out of her now.
'What the hell's the matter with you?' he demanded, standing over her.
She put her head in her hands.
'Leave me alone.'
'Are you sick?'
'I have a headache . . . leave me alone.'
The sunlight reflected on the diamonds of the Borgia ring, making them sparkle. Fennel eyed the ring.
'You better give me the ring to carry. I don't want it lost. Come on, give it to me!'
'No!'
Garry came out of the jungle dragging a long branch covered with foliage behind him.
Muttering under his breath, Fennel moved away from Gaye.
It took Garry very few minutes to tie the rucksacks and their shoes to the branch.
'Let's go,' he said to Gaye. 'Hang on to the branch. I'll push it over.'
Uneasily, Fennel watched them enter the water. He looked up and down the opposite bank, expecting to see a crocodile appear, but saw nothing. They were across in a few minutes, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Gaye had collapsed on the mud bank and lay face down. He entered the water and swam fast and in panic to the other side.
Garry had turned Gaye and was kneeling over her, looking anxiously down at her white face. She seemed unconscious. Water streaming from him, Fennel came up.
'What's the matter?' he demanded roughly.
'She's ill.' Garry picked up the unconscious girl and carried her across the mud flat into the shade of a tree. He laid her down on a carpet of rotting leaves. 'Get the rucksacks and the shoes,' he went on.
Fennel did as he was told, put on his shoes and came back to where Garry was anxiously watching Gaye.
'I guess she's picked up some bug,' Fennel said indifferently. 'Well come on, Edwards, let's go. Those black bastards may be right behind us.'
'Look around and see if you can find two straight branches. We could make a stretcher with our shirts.'
Fennel stared at him.
'You out of your head? Do you imagine I'm going to help carry that bitch through this goddamn jungle and in this heat when those blacks are racing after us? You carry her if you want to, but I'm not.'
Garry looked up at him, his face hardening.
