A Lion by the Mane

by Edna Dawes

  ‘You’re crazy, Jan. How can we get away when we are surrounded by rebel guerrillas? Van Heerdon would give the alarm the minute he found us gone.’

  ‘We have the perfect opportunity now. The natives are all drunk, and we shall take Van Heerdon with us. There’s no problem.’

  He made it sound so easy, but when Margaret heard what he was proposing to do she renewed her conclusion that he was crazy. They climbed down from the rocks, trying not to kick loose pieces which would advertise their presence. It was not easy in the moonlight, and Margaret had to concentrate very hard to keep her mind off Craig’s body which remained lodged above them. Once they reached the ground, Jan flung his arm round her shoulders and whispered, ‘Right. Off we go!’

  Van Heerdon was not really sleeping, as Jan had guessed, and his eyes shot open at their entry. The tremor in Margaret’s voice did not have to be affected, it was real enough, when she said what Jan had told her to say.

  ‘He has been taken ill. It must have been that native beer. He drank mine as well as his own, and it seems to have upset him badly.’

  Jan’s groans as he staggered beside her were so realistic Van Heerdon’s face turned ashen. ‘What!’ he gasped out as he struggled from the bed.

  Margaret lowered Jan on to the one she had used and, true to expectation, Van Heerdon crossed the floor to bend over him before turning a vindictive face towards the girl.

  ‘You’ve killed him, you little bi . . .’ He got no further because Jan brought his hands up to take Van Heerdon’s throat in a choking grip, and Margaret quickly took the revolver from his belt. Within minutes, Jan had his prisoner’s hands tied behind him and then took the gun from her. Margaret handed it over with a sense of shock. She would have fired it without hesitation if it had been necessary, and felt no qualms!

  ‘How did you find out about the poison?’ grunted Van Heerdon.

  ‘She doesn’t drink, so Craig had the lot and died right before us,’ provided Jan. ‘What a filthy method to use!’

  ‘You must see I had to get rid of her. A woman always causes trouble when there are two men who want her. I can’t let that sort of thing spoil my plans. I told them that.’

  ‘Stop talking and move,’ instructed Jan. ‘I shall shoot at the first false step you take – and it will be in a very painful place. Don’t think you’ll get a quick death from me. I want you alive and talking when we reach Myala, because you are going to clear Chris and me of any involvement in your activities.’

  ‘Think, man. You will be throwing away the biggest opportunity you will ever have in your life. Don’t listen to her.’ He threw a contemptuous look at Margaret. ‘She told Craig you couldn’t wait to get shot of her, but it’s obvious you are besotted or you would never go back on an agreement in this suicidal manner. There are other women. Why be such a fool over one – and a born liar, at that?’

  ‘Move!’ repeated Jan. ‘You follow me, Maggie, and keep close or we may get separated.’ He gave Van Heerdon a push.

  They went out into the night and started down the path. Even had Van Heerdon cried out it would have been lost in the raucous sounds which split the night. The drums, the stamping feet, and the off-key chanting continued as before with the addition of cries and shouts which echoed from first here, then there, as they made their way down towards the kraal. Margaret was not afraid. The whole thing had become so much beyond her normal experience it no longer seemed to be happening. The only thing she had to worry about was keeping that broad back in sight, for without Jan she would be lost.

  They reached the outskirts of the kraal where the festivities had reached a frightening pitch. The dancers were in a complete frenzy. The movements they made had taken on a menacing flavour which was only one step from out and out aggression, and the beer was still flowing freely. All semblance of the dedicated rebels who fought for a cause had vanished beneath the call of an ancient civilization. No wonder Mtubu had advised his white friends to stay in the cave that night!

  The small procession skirted the clearing, keeping well out of sight, but Margaret’s head thundered with the drumming of hands and feet. It seemed she could even smell pagan emotions in the smoke which rose from the circle of flaming torches, and mingled with the reek of cooking meat and sweating humanity. Suddenly she wanted to be free and back amongst her own people; she had seen enough of native Africa for the moment.

  Jan led them round behind the camouflage nets which hung above the row of vehicles, and they halted while he did a rapid mental appraisal of the choice open to him. The larger trucks afforded more protection, but a jeep would be easier to manœuvre along the narrow tracks he would have to follow. Stealing the thing would be easy enough – there was only a handful of men who could drive them so it would not occur to them to take precautions against theft – the problem would be getting out on to the track. Heavy netting covered with green and brown cloth pieces hung down three sides of this makeshift garage which meant the only way to drive out was straight across the compound where the dancing was taking place. The starting of the engine might go unnoticed in the general pandemonium, but without a couple of fifteen-foot props to hold up that net, all hopes of an unseen getaway were finished.

  The keys were in the ignition of the first two jeeps, as he had expected, and he chose the second because the petrol tank registered FULL and because he had an easy route straight across the compound once he got going. The element of surprise was their best chance. He pushed Van Heerdon face downwards in the back and gave Margaret the revolver while he collected the keys from the entire row of vehicles and put them in his pocket.

  ‘Jump in,’ he invited, taking the gun back. ‘We are going to leave here with a bang and I want you to keep right down until we are clear of the kraal. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes. Jan . . . I have complete faith in you to get us away.’

  ‘I wish I had,’ he murmured, completely missing the message she was trying to pass to him because of his concentration on matters in hand. ‘Get down and hold tight!’

  The engine roared to life as headlamps blazed out across the writhing black bodies, and next minute, Margaret felt like a human pellet from a catapult as Jan adopted his Lotus technique to a military jeep. As if that were not enough, two deafening cracks nearly split her eardrums as he fired into the air. The little she saw of the scene as the jeep swerved and skidded across the compound reminded her of riding the Ghost Train when she was a child. Black faces with staring eyes loomed and were gone, garish colours danced before her eyes, piercing shrieks mingled with the squealing of the tyres under duress, and a mad hotchpotch of smoke, flaming torches, leaves, white walls, and waving arms appeared out of the darkness and vanished as they changed direction yet again. It could only have taken a matter of seconds yet her eyes and ears missed nothing of the chaos they left behind them when the jeep rocked on to the track and went hell for leather along it. Neither did she miss a glimpse of that hated bird-mask which hid an evil man from the people who reverenced him. The vivid replica of a cruel beak and wicked eyes would haunt her dreams for some time to come.

  ‘You can come up now.’ Jan’s voice was reassuringly steady and sane. ‘I’ve kicked up merry hell at some parties in my time, but never like that. Are you all right?’

  ‘Just about. How long will it take us to reach Myala? Does this track lead to the road which crosses the border?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid we have to return to the kraal where we were taken prisoner and then find our way back to the access in the Reserve fence. To go over legitimately is impossible, for reasons which I should have thought were obvious.’

  ‘But you daren’t return to that place,’ said Margaret. ‘Van Heerdon told us the men had all pledged to kill you if they saw you unshackled.’

  ‘I shall have to make sure they don’t see me. It shouldn’t be difficult. Most of them are probably at that celebration we have just ruined.’ He inclined his head to the back. ‘Is Van Heerdon still with us?’

  Mar
garet glanced round. ‘All in a heap in the corner. He doesn’t look at all comfortable.’

  ‘Best news I’ve heard today!’

  Margaret fell silent for a long while. Here she was, once more spending the hours of darkness by careering along in a stolen vehicle. Would she never occupy an African night in the erotic pleasure of having Jan prove to her that he knew of better ways to keep warm in bed?

  By the time Jan slowed to a crawl and switched off his lights she was nearly asleep.

  ‘We are getting near the kraal,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ll go as far as I dare, then we’ll have to abandon the jeep. ‘It’s a long walk, Maggie.’

  ‘I know. I didn’t enjoy the outward journey overmuch.’

  African dawns had the habit of surprising people, and now the headlamps were off, it was possible to distinguish the faint outline of the track, not by moonlight, as Margaret at first thought, but by the palest lifting of night. The jeep rolled silently along like a small boat being lifted on slight swell as tension tied knots in Margaret’s stomach. Jan appeared calm and confident, and she sensed it was not simply a cover. His determination was born of cold, lucid thought, not the burning anger which had possessed him on the previous journey through here. Somewhere along the line, his restless spirit had come to terms with itself; the self-destructive quality of his nature had reached a compromise. He was never likely to tell her how it came about, for he kept all those things to himself, but one day she might perhaps receive a clue and put two and two together. For now, she was content to know that it had happened. He had told Van Heerdon: ‘You are going to clear Chris and me thereby establishing the fact that he had plans for his own future.’ She prayed he would be allowed one!

  The jeep stopped on a bend. ‘This is the terminus,’ Jan said as he got out and pocketed the keys. ‘If we go any further we shall be within view of the kraal. Unfortunately, whoever happens to be still in residence will be up and about at dawn. Pity we couldn’t have arrived an hour earlier!’ He walked round to the back and hauled Van Heerdon out. ‘The same still applies,’ he warned him. ‘One sound and you’ll be doubled up with pain.’

  The sandy-haired man looked pale in the grey light as he was pushed ahead through the scant undergrowth. Margaret followed closely behind as Jan explained that the going would be easier once they had skirted the kraal and joined the path they had used to come in by, but they had hardly gone thirty paces when movement to their left froze them in their tracks. The inhabitants of the kraal were indeed up and about!

  Four tribesmen stood not far from the abandoned jeep, daring the fugitives to defy the power of their assegais. Margaret died inside as she thought all hope had gone, but Jan was thinking furiously. He had the gun, but it was useless against four weapons; his first shot might fell one man but it would bring certain death from the remaining three. There was one outside chance he could take, but if it didn’t come off it would be the last thing he ever did. The men were slowly advancing so that it had to be now or never.

  Margaret was trembling, the sweat standing out on her brow, as she waited for the black men to reach them, when her tattered nerves were shaken further. Jan fired two quick shots in succession, the first hit the jeep with a metallic thud, the second ricocheted off the metal side of the vehicle. Instantly, the jeep exploded into leaping orange flames as the spark caused by the ricochet ignited the petrol tank which had been pierced by the first bullet. It was a formidable sight! Where there had been a khaki vehicle, there was now a blazing furnace shooting fire and smoke into the lightening sky.

  ‘Run!’ yelled Jan, and she did, crashing through undergrowth which tore at her clothes and bare limbs, and leaping across obstacles like the nimblest of springboks, though how her legs supported her she would never know.

  In the split second before flight, the photo-cells of her memory recorded the fact that the four ebony figures were transfixed with fear at this evidence of the flame-headed man’s powers. Without the witch-doctor to induce super bravery, they were unwilling to challenge this terrible force. Gradually she became aware of heavy breathing beside her and realized Jan was hauling Van Heerdon along at great expense to his own energy.

  ‘Leave him behind,’ she panted.

  ‘Not on your life. He’s my witness,’ returned Jan between grunts. ‘Bear right and we should reach the path.’

  The luminous light of full dawning day made the route instantly recognizable, and progress was a little easier for a while until the trees started getting denser and a pain in her side forced Margaret to stop.

  ‘I can’t, Jan,’ she gasped. ‘I can’t run any more. Can we rest for a minute?’

  ‘No chance. We must keep moving . . . but I’ll slow the pace a bit, if I must.’ His chest was heaving and the strain of the last few days showed on his face in the harsh brilliance of what promised to be a glorious golden day. His large hand released its grip on Van Heerdon’s arm. ‘You can go on ahead. Your pals at the kraal are not going to save you now you are in the hands of a fire-raiser. Get marching!’

  That walk nearly finished Margaret. Her proud boast of being a strong, healthy girl seemed to prove a lie, but long walks in the bracing English countryside could hardly be compared with the trek through Africa following five days of the kind she had just spent. Jan amazed her. When he should be physically drained, the continued strength he summoned kept him going at a steady pace. A youth spent in the sunshine of this invigorating country, plus the fact that they came from a long line of sturdy farming stock, had given the Schroeder men constitutions which were not easily lowered . . . but she was not to know that!

  Heat was beating down in waves upon their heads when the fence of Myala Game Reserve was reached. Jan found the gate easily, thanks to Margaret’s not covering up evidence of it when she had come through two days before, and Van Heerdon was pushed into South Africa without ceremony before being followed by the man and girl. The thankfulness Margaret felt at being safely back in this country was completely ruined the next minute when Jan gave a loud exclamation.

  ‘They’ve taken the bloody trucks!’

  Sure enough, the jeep Craig had left behind and the stolen police truck were no longer parked beneath the trees, and all they could see was the shimmering, hazy landscape as it lay before them for mile after mile. There was a short return of the Jan she knew as he ranted and raved over the gross stupidity of whoever had removed the vehicles.

  ‘If this is Chris’s doing, I’ll knock him flying when we meet. Surely his sense would tell him we had crossed the border this way and would therefore come back by the same route! God, how could he be so dense!’

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Margaret when she could get a word in.

  ‘Walk, that’s what! Good thing you like fresh air – you are going to have any amount of it starting now.’

  ‘Jan, I’m not joking and I’m not playing sex games, as you call them, but I can’t go on until I have had a rest. It seems I am not as tough as you thought. I’m sorry.’

  Something in her voice brought him to his senses and, for the first time, he really noticed the state she was in. Gone was that superior look he hated; the shining clean, wholesome girl who tempted but discouraged. Instead, there stood before him a tangle-haired, scruffy gypsy in torn clothes who seemed a lot smaller than he remembered, and who was fighting off tears of exhaustion. For some reason, he was reminded of himself as a boy tramping for miles behind his brothers and sisters until he was ready to drop.

  ‘Yes . . . well, all right,’ he said. ‘Can you keep going until we get beyond those trees in the distance? I’d rather like to put some yards between us and this fence before we stop. I don’t think we have been followed, but I’d rather not be sitting here if they should arrive on the other side.’

  ‘I think I can manage that,’ she agreed wearily, ‘and I’ll try not to hold you up any longer than necessary.’

  During the short rest Margaret tried not to think of cool, clear water, but it was a ha
rd struggle. Nobody spoke. Jan sat with his back to a tree, watching Van Heerdon through eyes slitted against the glare of the sun, trying desperately hard not to give in to sleep. It was one of the dangers of resting. Van Heerdon’s face was white and shiny with sweat, but he would look even sicker when the prison gates closed behind him, thought Jan grimly.

  They walked for two hours without a break until a sharp rise in the ground hid the way ahead from view.

  ‘Okay. Five minutes’ rest,’ said Jan, and Margaret slid thankfully to the ground. ‘Keep an eye on him while I climb to the top and see if there is a track anywhere near.’

  She nodded automatically and took the gun as Jan walked, still with a slight limp, up the bush-dotted slope to stand silhouetted against the sky. It was heavy and breathless beneath the trees, and the sounds of the veld disguised the faint humming, at first. As it grew louder, Jan’s acute hearing identified it, making him tilt his head back with a surge of gladness.

  ‘There’s a plane,’ said Van Heerdon to Margaret. ‘It’s Chris Schroeder.’

  ‘Where?’ Her head went back and Van Heerdon’s foot shot out to kick the revolver from her hand.

  ‘JAN!’ she screamed, but it was all over in a second. Van Heerdon had her arm twisted up behind her before Jan had had time to collect his wits.

  ‘Don’t move, or I swear I’ll break her arm,’ he was warned.

  The threat rooted Jan to the spot, but Van Heerdon knew that without the gun he had only the slenderest of advantages. His kick had sent the weapon flying into the undergrowth, much further than he had bargained for, and the instinct for flight was too great to allow him the risk of stopping near Jan while he searched for it. But if he had lost the gun, then so had his adversary and no matter how determined Jan might be, he was hardly likely to risk the safety of the girl.