by John Blaine
The smith got the message. He walked to his tent and came back with a length of braided linen cord.
Scotty tested it. No doubt of it, it was very strong, although quite thin. “Just exactly what I wanted,”
Scotty said. “You’ll see why later.”
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He approached the veiled men and held out his hand. The veiled men held out theirs. One wore a silver ring. Scotty pointed to it, eyebrows raised in a question. The veiled man slipped it off his finger and handed it to the boy. Scotty bowed his thanks. He folded the linen string in two and pushed the folded end through the ring. Then he took the two loose ends and put them through the looped end and pulled tight. The ring was now tightly held on the string. Holding to the loose ends, Scotty gave the tied ring to its owner to examine. The veiled man did so, testing to be sure the ring was on tight.
Scotty took the three ancient rings from Tony and slipped them over the loose ends, letting them fall against the ring secured to the string. Again Scotty held the assembly out to the veiled man, who tested it.
There was no way the ancient rings could get over the silver one.
Letting the rings dangle, Scotty tied the two loose ends in a knot. He drew the smith back so that no one would be behind him, then put the big loop of string around his neck. He held up the rings so everyone could see they were still in place, then drew the string around until the rings dangled down the smith’s back, out of sight of the audience.
Scotty held up both hands to show they were empty, then walked behind the smith. He bent, paused for a second,then brought his hands into sight again. The three ancient rings were on his palm. The audience gasped in pleasure, then broke into amused conversation. One of the Tuaregs stepped swiftly to the smith, pulled the cord around,then gazed at the silver ring-still tightly tied.
Scotty grinned. He turned the smith back again, went behind him, and returned to show hands empty.
Then he lifted the string from around the smith’s neck and held it out. The three ancient rings were back in place on the stringl
The audience thought that was the greatest thing since the invention of camel saddles, and let him know it with drawn-out whistles. Scotty bowed graciously, removed the ancient rings, and handed them to Tony; then he untied the silver ring and returned it to its owner with a bow of thanks. He tucked the string in his pocket, turned, and sat down beside his gourd of milk and millet cakes and cheese. Unconcerned, he proceeded to finish his lunch. Rick and Tony joined him. The audience watched for a moment, then dispersed, convinced the show was over.
Rick stared at his pal with undisguised admiration. “Those were some trickslWhere on earth did you learn them?”
“It’s nothing,” Scotty said modestly. “A friend of mine showed them to me one night when I helped him put on a show. He calls himself ‘Derek the Magician.”
“You must have used both rings in the stick trick, but I didn’t see you do it,” Rick said. “The second one baffled me completely. How does it work?”
“We magicians,” Scotty said loftily, “never tell our secrets. But I’ll say this much. Both of them are so easy to do you’d be astonished. And, unless you happen to know I have two identical rings, they’re both pretty baffling.”
“I’m baffled,” Tony admitted. “I’m also baffled about why you wanted cartridges. I got four.”
“Same here,” Rick added. “And I doubt that they’ll miss them. There were gaps in both bandoliers in the back. Only the fronts were full.”
“There’s a clay pit where the smith gets clay right near the well,” Scotty said. “And in the inner cave Page 58
there are some small glazed pots about the size of coffee cups. Put the two together with powder inside, and what do you have?”
“Bombs!”Tony exclaimed.
“A diversion,” Rick said. “Boy, there’s nothing like a military education, is there?”
“It comes in handy,” the ex-Marine admitted. “So this afternoon we make two bombs. The cord will serve for fuse after we’ve rolled it in a gunpowder paste and let it dry. We also make slings, and the cord will secure the leather thongs to the pouch. Tonight we can practice in the cave. I think the ceiling is just high enough to let us swing a sling.”
“Also tonight,” Tony said, “we stop by the well and help to fill goatskin water bags, as a gesture of good will and friendship. Apparently they fill the bags at night, and evaporation keeps them cool for morning use. We’ll be so helpful every bag will get filled.”
“And tomorrow night,” Rick concluded, “Escape Plan X goes into operation!”
CHAPTER XV
Plan of Action
There was a happy crowd at the well. While Rick and Tony helped to fill water bags, slaves and children urged Scotty with gestures and incomprehensible talk to show them some tricks.
Scotty obliged, and before long some of the adult Tuaregs came to watch. Rick watched, too, between turns at hauling up the bucket from the well. He was amazed at Scotty’s performance. With only the simplest of equipment, principally the linen cord, he put on an intriguing show.
The dark-haired boy held up the cord, swung it into a loop, and put it around his neck with the two ends dangling down the front of his now-tattered shirt. Then he pulled on the two ends and the cord dropped free. It looked exactly as though he had pulled it right through his neck without leaving a trace. The crowd approved with gasps of astonishment and high-pitched squeals.
Scotty tied an intricate knot in the cord, pulled, and the cord straightened out, unknotted. He snapped the cord like a whip and a knot appeared in the end. He tied two overhand knots in the cord, held it up, and the knots slowly undid themselves and the cord fell limp and straight.
Rick pulled his attention away from Scotty’s performance and counted the goatskin water bags. There were seventeen, all full.
Finally, the little boy with the bamboo cane held it out, and Scotty did the ring trick again. This one was best, the crowd signified. Scotty bowed, tucked the rings and string into his pocket, and returned the cane to the boy. The performance was over.
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When the three wandered through the village they met friendly smiles on all sides. Even the eyes of the veiled men crinkled, showing that a smile existed under the dirty cloth.
“You can come on all my expeditions,” Tony said. “With entertainment like that, we can get diggers to work at half price.”
“Speaking of diggers,” Scotty replied, “we have to dig a little clay on the way back. Think it will arouse any suspicions?”
“If it does,” Rick suggested, “maybe you can do a trick with a ball of clay. If we’d only known you were a magician, you could have kept us entertained at Spindrift and we wouldn’t have needed to come toAfrica .”
They reached the tent of the smith and stared in at the saddles. “How can we get three saddles?” Rick asked. That had been one of his principal worries.
A bareback escape would mean a man-killing ride.
“There must be other saddles around,” Tony said. “Think we’d attract unpleasant attention if we wandered toward the horse pen?”
“Let’s try.” Scotty turned and started back. Rick and Tony followed. The three paused now and then to exchange a smile with a slave or a Tuareg. They reached the end of the tent area and walked to the well, stopping to pull up a bucket of water and drink. Casual glances toward the tents showed no sign of interest in them. The goatskin bags were hanging from the pole racks around the well, and no one was nearby.
“All’s well so far,” Rick said. “Let’s keep going. But move toward that place Scotty spotted, where the smith gets his clay. We can all get a ball of it and toss them back and forth as though playing.”
The clay pit was on the edge of what was probably a stream bed in which no water had run since the last rainy season. The outer surface was dry, but the clay was fairly moist underneath, a sign that water was not far below ground. Of course they already knew that, from examin
ation of the shallow well.
Each took a large handful of the clay, then continued the walk, shaping it as they went. Scotty kept an eye out to the rear, by tossing his ball into the air, then turning to catch it.
They were close to the horse pen, near enough to make out details, when Scotty said softly, “Company coming. Let’s play ball.”
Rick put his clay ball in a pocket and caught the one Scotty tossed. As he turned, he saw two Tuaregs walking toward them. The veiled men were not hurrying, but they weren’t sauntering, either. Apparently they had decided to check up on the trio.
Rick tossed Scotty’s ball to Tony. “Anyone see anything of interest?”
“Guard post,” Scotty replied, and caught the ball as Tony threw it.“Under that acacia tree near the cliff wall. Man there with a rifle. Behind him are a dozen saddles on a rail. Blankets, too, spread out on the grass.Probably drying.”
The Tuaregs drew near. Rick moved toward them to catch the ball, and grinned at the two. He whipped Page 60
the heavy ball at Scotty, who caught it, tossed to Tony, who threw it back to Rick.
One of the veiled men held out his hand. Rick walked over, smiling, and dropped the ball in his hand. He was tense inside. Would they consider it a weapon?
The Tuaregs examined it, then the one holding it suddenly tossed it back to Rick. It was an awkward throw, but Rick fielded it and tossed it back, being careful to make it a slow, easy toss. The Tuareg caught it by spearing the air with both hands, fumbling it, then recovering it again. Obviously, ball handling was not a part of the clan’s culture.
The Tuaregs examined the ball again. Rick motioned that they were to keep it. The veiled men didn’t understand. Rick caught the ball as it was tossed, then walked over and handed it to the nearest man with a bow, and a pointing finger.
This time the two understood. Eyes wrinkled above the veils. Gift accepted, with thanks. The two turned and started back toward the camp, and Rick fell in step. Scotty and Tony followed. When they reached the well, the three turned aside and had another drink. Rick and Tony soaked their balls of clay, making hollows in the balls, filling them with water, then folding the clay over the openings to keep the water inside.
The Tuaregs had gone back to their tents. The Spindrifters turned and took the path to their cave, pausing now and then to wave at someone who greeted them. They had been accepted as slaves of full status in the clan, Rick decided, thanks mostly to Scotty’s tricks.
When they reached the cave, their pretense of casualness was discarded and they got busy. There was much to be done. Scotty broke open the cartridges by wedging the conical bullets between two heavy rocks, then bending them until the thin brass of the cartridge necks gave.
Rick prepared the two heavy mugs they had chosen for bombs by kneading his clay ball into plugs, leaving a funnel-shaped hole in the center.
Tony busied himself cutting goatskin ore bags into large squares. Fortunately, there were plenty of bags.
Scotty took out his linen string and soaked two short pieces in the tiny cup of water in Tony’s clay ball.
To the water he added the contents of two of the cartridges, then kneaded the string until it was saturated with the gunpowder mixture.
“You’re getting some clay mixed in, too,” Rick observed.
“No matter.It will act as a binder. Got a piece of shirttail you can spare?”
“What for?”
“We need to keep one ball of clay moist with damp cloth. The fuses will dry overnight, and tomorrow morning we can put the final plugs in the clay cups. That will give them until tomorrow night to dry hard.”
The gunpowder-and-water mixture had dried to a thick black mud. Scotty put it aside to dry even more while he went to work on the slings. He was making two. Using the pieces of goatskin he had cut that morning, he passed leather thongs through slits in the edges of the pouches, and used the rest of the linen cord to tie them in place, whipping the ties securely.
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Tony finished cutting the big pieces of goatskin and started making long strips. He had never used a sling, and there wasn’t time to learn. He knew that unlike the rubber-powered modern slingshot, the ancient weapon takes a lot of practice before skill is developed.
As Scotty had predicted, there was room enough in their cave to practice. Rick took a sling, measured by holding it at his waist and letting the pouch drop to his feet, then he tied a loop in one free end and a figure-eight knot in the other.
Scotty and Tony got out of the way. Rick put a piece of stone in the pouch, slipped the loop over his middle finger, and took the knot between thumb and forefinger of the same hand. With his other hand he held the stone in the pouch, slightly higher than waist level,
“Here goes,” he said, and let the pouch drop, at the same time starting it on its swing outward, away from his body, then in a high arc in back of his head and down. As the pouch reached the bottom of its swing, he put his weight in the throw, bringing the pouch over his shoulder as though serving a tennis ball.
As the pouch came down in front of him, he released the knot held between thumb and forefinger. The rock flew like a bullet and shattered against the back wall of the cave, very close to where he had aimed.
“Haven’t lost the touch,” Scotty said approvingly. “Now let me try it.”
Scotty hadn’t lost the touch, either. But he shook his head. “If we’re chased, we could probably keep them at a distance for a while with these, but there’s only one way I can see they fit into this new plan.”
“How?”Rick asked.
“To hurl our bombs.We can get nearly three hundred yards distance with missiles that heavy, which means we can throw them from a pretty safe distance. It will reduce our chances of being seen.”
Tony looked up from his cutting. “That sounds good, Scotty. My worry is, how do we get the guards out of the way?”
Scotty shrugged. “First we have to be sure how many guards there are and where they’re stationed. So far we’ve seen only one.” He went over and checked his “fuse soup,” decided it was thick enough, dunked the lengths of cord for the last time, then hung them to dry from cracks in the rock, wedging their ends in with bits of wood. He spread the residue of powder mixture on a scrap of goatskin and sat down next to Rick. “After dark, I’m going out and count the guards. I can figure a way of getting at them at the same time.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rick offered.
“Thanks, ol ’ buddy, but I’d better go alone. It’s easier for one to move in country like this than two.
There isn’t much cover.”
“Scotty’s right,” Tony said. “Besides, he’s the most skillful at this sort of thing. Now, while we’re waiting, let’s go over the plan again-in full detail. We can’t afford to overlook anything. To begin with, we start by enlarging the opening to the old cave first thing in the morning.”
For a few moments they debated the size opening needed, and how long it would take to close it again, then moved on to the remaining steps in the plan.
Rick found a weakness. He asked, “Have you seen any of the Tuaregs smoking? I haven’t noticed.”
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“The boss smokes,” Tony said quickly. “I saw him with a trade cigar.A twist of black tobacco. Why?”
“We need a piece of it, or something like it, for punk. Otherwise, we’ll have to light the bombs from a torch. A cigar would just smolder.”
Scotty chuckled. “Okay. I never thought I’d ever be a smoker, but tomorrow I’ll use a trick to get us a piece of cigar-if the boss has another one.”
“You’d strangle if you tried to smoke,” Rick warned.
“Don’t worry. This will be a comedy gag. If it works, no one will notice that I got away with a piece of cigar. Tony will have to be the victim when we actually use it to light the bombs.”
They reviewed the plan again, made a few slight changes,then shook hands all around. It was the best they could do. Tony and Rick took turns slici
ng goatskin into long strips while Scotty, sprawled flat, watched from the mouth of the cave. Only when the last candle, torch, and oil light had gone out in camp did he stand and stretch. By then Rick and Tony had finished the cutting and had stored the supplies in a goatskin bag. Their own torch had burned out long ago, and they had finished the job by touch.
“See you in a while,” Scotty said, and melted into the darkness.
Rick and Tony waited. Rick had waited on many other occasions while Scotty reconnoitered. The ex-Marine was like a wraith in the darkness, able to move without sound, using bits of cover anyone with less skill would have avoided as too revealing.
It was at least an hour before Scotty returned. He appeared as silently as he had vanished and joined them in the cave.
“A cinch,” he said. “Guard at the horse pen, guard on the camels, and a guard at each end of the valley.
The camel guard is rolled up in his blanket, fast asleep. The horse guard is sitting against the tree, and if he isn’t asleep, he will be. The other two are wide awake. They’re the real guards for the camp. One is a lookout, sitting on the rocks above the horse pen where he can see out over the desert. The other is guarding the defile that leads out of the valley near the camels.”
“Are they in sight of each other?” Rick asked.
“No. That’s the lovely part. None of them can see any of the others.”
Scotty outlined his plan in a few sentences, and Rick and Tony accepted it without question.
“Now,” Tony said, “let’s get some sleep. We’ll go over the plan once more in the morning, and be sure everything is in readiness.”
“Tomorrow night,” Rick stated, “we’ll be sweating it out. But the plan will work. Wait and see!”
CHAPTER XVI
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Execute Plan X
Rick counted on his fingers. Bombs ready. The clay seals had dried during the day and the powder-filled mugs were airtight, or nearly so.Bag of goatskin squares and thongs ready. He looked out of the cave mouth and saw that one light remained on in the camp. Another hour at least before they could move.