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 Posted - September 20 2009 : 06:24:51 AM
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After leaving the latrine, Finn went to Susan's tent, saw that she was making out fine, and headed for the breakfast table.
Everyone was there, deep in animate conversation.
They looked at her as if she had been the subject of that talk, some regarding her cautiously, others suggesting fear or pity in their gazes.
She caught George's eyes, and he dropped his glance, a bit troubled. He walked over and took her hand.
"Genius? Everybody? What the hell is this? Why are you all looking at me that way? Did I get my lipstick on crooked?"
"Finn," said Hamilton, "I think there's something you had better see. Apparently, it was a wise choice as well as being a little noble, for you and George to have shared Susan's tent last night."
He led the way over to the Challenger tent, that couple walking hand-in-hand, George looking uneasily at Finn. There in the dirt around the tent were the tracks of a big male lion, and the canvas door had been pushed open. Things inside had been pushed over or stepped on, and there was the acrid odor of lion pee where the animal had left the tent.
"Darling, I think we did well to bunk with Susan last night," said Challenger.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - September 21 2009 : 09:19:24 AM
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"No kidding," she muttered.
A Wanderobo tracker was studying the paw prints and he began jabbering something at Hamilton. They conversed briefly, and Hamilton said, "Simliki here says that he was told by the natives that were in that first village that the man-eaters all have a scar that runs diagonally across the right front paw of the lions that Karanja kept. He marked them that way while they were out from his drugs, to scare people. They know that such animals belong to witch doctors, so more terror is spread if their tracks are seen. And Sir John's letter in fact mentioned that the henchmen who confessed also cited that information."
Finn had been studying the tracks with Roxton. They exchanged a look and he said, "No scarred paws here. This may have just been an ordinary lion, not that they aren't quite dangerous when they take to prowling around camps. And if George and Finn had been in this tent, even with the flap tied shut, it would have just ripped open the canvas, maybe even collapsed the tent. If a lion knows that you're in there and is hungry, he'll do whatever it takes to get at you."
"We need to move camp, today," Ned noted.
"Too right," agreed Mick, putting an arm around Sheila. "We need to be on the way to Tanganyika, anyway, but you lot take care. Come see us when we all get home. We live just 20 miles from Lindemere Manor, you know."
"I'm hungry, and it's uncivilized to stand around at this hour without coffee," proclaimed Lady Roxton. "Lets eat while we plan the day."
Breakfast was ready, and they dug in heartily, but the Challengers gave one another wary looks, and George squeezed Finn's hand under the table.
When Susan arrived, she sat by Finn and was filled in on the tracks.
"If staying with me saved you, I am so happy," she confessed. "I can tell you, I would have felt pretty lonely without you. If it saved you also, that's even better!"
"I think Susan had better have company if she stays in camp while we hunt today," proclaimed Blacklaws. "Holly and I will stay in the morning, and Stuart and Diana can handle the afternoon shift. Does that suit everyone?"
It did, and the Malones agreed to stay the morning, although Ned wanted to hunt birds later. With him in camp, both white hunters could take out parties to search for the man-eaters.
"All right," said Hamilton. "But I think we need to move camp before we shoot any birds. We'll take a recce this morning, looking for the man-eaters, then break camp and pitch it elsewhere before we hunt birds. No way are we staying here, after that lion's visit. May as well eat lunch here, then break camp. We need to be relocated well before dark."
He thought of something, and called over a camp boy. "Throw some water on that place where the lion peed outside the Challenger tent. It may kill the odor."
"N'dio, Bwana," said the man and set off to do that.
"Thanks," said Challenger. "Finn and I had as soon not smell that as we see whether anything was damaged. Darling, do you want to join the lion hunters? I have nothing planned once we put our tent in order."
She assented, glad to have his company. Finn wanted a shot at those lions, and if George was with her, she wouldn't be worried what might be happening to him.
As they ate, they discussed man-eaters in general, the white hunters and Roxton all having some "hairy" tales to contribute. Susan shivered. She was glad that others would be with her while her friends were out looking for trouble. She looked at various objects as far off as she could see fairly well. And decided to practice aiming with her rifles after the hunting party had left. Susan was becoming braver, and she meant to participate in the camp's defense in case the big cats came. "I'm only vision-impaired now," she reflected. "Not blind. And I am fed up with murderous natives and snakes, and with lions stalking through camp. If one of those bastards calls on us today, I mean to shoot it."
And she felt better as conversation shifted to elephants that killed people as they raided shambas. My God, she thought. If animals out here aren't trying to eat you or poison you, they stomp on you or put a tusk through you. I'll be glad to see peaceful Britain again. But some farmer's bull killed him last year in Kent! I guess that life isn't safe anywhere...at least, it isn't dull here! |
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Posted - September 22 2009 : 09:28:31 AM
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Following breakfast, the hunters went out in several cars, scanning the ground near the village, stopping there to question the natives.
They soon discovered that the lions had indeed been seen. Two persons had been attacked and eaten, and their relatives wailed as they told how they had been taken. Unfortunately, all of both corpses had been consumed, so there was nothing left for hunters to sit up over, in hopes of shooting a returning cat.
Roxton and Blacklaws looked for the unique spoor of the witch doctor's cats, and sure enough, both lions had a cleft mark crossing their right front paws.
The hunting party circled a patch of thick bush where the lions had supposedly gone, and only one set of tracks came out. The other lion was probably still in there, sleeping in the sun. But only a fool would pursue a lion into brush that thick. The animal would be on top of anyone before they could react and lift a rifle.
But good luck came their way, for they saw the missing beast on its way back into this thicket. Evidently, these lions were brothers or had otherwise become friends, and were operating as a pair. Although unusual, it wasn't unheard of. In fact, the famous Tsavo man-eaters who had almost halted the building of the Uganda Rairway were a pair of male lions.
The lion saw one car and veered away, not realizing that a second car with humans in it was nearby. But the hunters had seen the lion, and were already reaching for their rifles!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - September 24 2009 : 01:42:53 AM
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Roxton and Blacklaws bailed out of the car and aimed at the trotting lion, which was giving them a dirty look. Roxton fired first, the 400 grain full-jacketed bullet from his .416 Rigby slapping loudly as it broke both the lion's shoulders. It dropped at once, but squirmed until Blacklaws fired a 300 grain .375 Magnum bullet into its exposed lower chest at 20 yards. This full-jacketed bullet ranged through the chest, and exited the spine, which it smashed.
The men examined the lion carefully, making sure that it was dead. "Gives me the shivers just to think what this lion was doing last night as we slept," said the earl.
"That's well put," said his wife, who had walked up beside him, her Westley Richards .318 ready. "John, there is still another of these beggars in that brush. What can we do? We can hardly just go off and leave it there, to eat someone as soon as we're gone."
Blacklaws replied, "Marguerite, we will hardly do that. It isn't the done thing, especially as I hold a white hunter's license. I am a deputy game warden, and am required to finish this. Law aside, common British decency demands of us that we deal with the second lion. Not to mention which, we don't want to find it later in our own camp."
"Usually, in such a case, we throw stones, or have the boys throw them, while the hunters wait with ready rifles." Roxton had seen this done on several occasions. "The rub here," he continued, "is that that patch of bush is so big that the rocks may never come close to the lion. And, having heard our shots, he may not be inclined to put in an appearance."
"Well, if we're to cast stones," quipped the countess, "leave me out. It is written, 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone', and I've been a sinful girl for most of my life. Anyway, I can't throw as far as you lads." She smirked at her joke, which set the men to laughing.
The other car had driven over and the Challengers heard Marguerite's Biblical quip, which also made them laugh. Then, Challenger stiffened and brought up his new .465 H&H double rifle, bought for this trip. "Look alert, Darling!" he called to Finn. "Here the bloody lion comes now!"
Finn swung up her .375, which had a telescopic sight. She had trouble seeing the lion in the field of view as he charged, and she knew that she had only seconds to fire, or be under the lion's claws and terrible teeth. She wished desperately that she had brought the iron-sighted .400. Only she and George were in position to fire, given the location of the cars and trees. If she muffed this shot, George had better make the kill with his two shots, or the world was going to have to get by without one of both of the Challengers!
Finn only vaguely registered Margerite's scream, "Shoot, Finn! Now! He's almost to you!"
Aiming largely by instinct, Finn pulled the trigger and felt the recoil slam the rifle into her shoulder socket. As she fired, she heard her husband shoot. But, had they fired in time?
She fumbled for the bolt handle, trying to reload the chamber for another shot. As she ejected the spent cartridge case, she heard George's second shot and an angry roar. Then, Marguerite screamed again, and something huge and hard and powerful slammed into her. She felt herself falling, and her world went black...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - September 25 2009 : 02:47:00 AM
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Finn came to, propped up on a cushion in the hunting car. George was bathing her forehead with a cool cloth, and her friends all stood round, looking anxiously at her. She felt like Death warmed over, and on a small flame, at that.
"Am I alive?", she muttered. "I see Marguerite. Does that mean that I'm in Hell? The last I remember, she was making some remark about what a big sinner she was."
Marguerite laughed with relief and held Finn's hand, crying a little as she assured Finn that she was yet among the living. "Only the good die young, Finnykins. I'm still here, and so are you. I think: how do you feel?"
"I'm deciding. Genius, how do I feel? Is anything broken?" She reached out a hand to touch Challenger's face.
"We were just discussing that, Darling, when you woke up. As far as Marguerite and I can determine, nothing is actually broken, and we've checked you as carefully as we could. I daresay that you may be somewhat stiff, and I see some bruises forming. The lion was dead when he landed on you. My second shot went thrugh the collarbone and broke the spine. Your shot and my first hit the heart. No idea why he didn't drop. Sometimes, animals live for a few seconds on pure adrenaline, I expect. Anyway, he hit the ground and flipped into you as you were reloading."
Finn recalled that. "Ohmigosh, is my rifle okay? I just bought that one last year, and I love the wood in the stock! If it's broken, I'll cry such a river that we won't need to look for water today!" She sat up, looking for the lovely Holland & Holland .375 Magnum.
"No worries," spoke Lord Roxton. "I knew that would be the first thing that you asked about, other than maybe George. So, I picked it up and closed the action. It's in the back of the car, resting comfortably on a blanket. I just blew off some dust. I don't think it got a scratch or a dent. Landed in that tall grass behind you, on soft ground. We took off your gunbelt. It's all right, too, on the seat to your right. Your sun helmet is there, too. It has a dent in it, but probably saved your head when you hit the ground. That big cat slammed into you with some real force. Only your falling over backwards so fast kept the impact from breaking some bones, I fancy.
Do you think you can stand and walk a few steps if George or I hold your arm? We'd better be certain that you function normally."
Finn nodded shakily. "You hold one arm, Johnny, and you get the other, Genius. I may fall. I do feel a little dizzy. Marguerite, don't look so worried. You're scaring me."
"I'm scaring YOU?!," shrilled the countess. "Finnykins, you have just scared me out of a year of my life, and you have the nerve to tell me that I'm scaring YOU?"
"What scared you?", asked Finn sitting up and letting the men help her off of the car seat, to stand shakily on her feet. "The lion was on this side of the cars. You weren't in any danger!"
Marguerite sniffed and wiped away a tear. "Well, I was in danger of losing my best female friend, ever. Doesn't that count?"
Finn glowed, and reached out to her. "Yes, Marguerite, that counts. Thank you for saying that. It means the world to me. It'll help me get all better soon. Lover; Johnny, lead me a little. I want to see if I can walk."
She staggered a bit, but was soon taking normal steps, except that she felt stiff and bruised. Like I look, probably, she speculated.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - September 26 2009 : 05:51:18 AM
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Finn sat on the car again as her husband had her follow his finger with her eyes, trying to see if she might be concussed or have optical nerve damage. She passed the test, although complaining of a sore spot on her head. There was a slight bump, but she seemed otherwise normal. The sun helmet had borne the brunt of the impact as she fell backward.
But on examining the .375 rifle, she looked though the telescopic sight and saw that the reticle was tilted. She said something very unladylike, and Roxton looked to see what angered her.
"Sorry, Finn," he said. "I didn't check it as carefully as I should have. We were too busy looking after you. The iron sights are fine. We'll just take off the 'scope until you get home, and have it repaired there. The tube isn't bent; just the broken crosshairs. You still have your .275 Rigby if you need to shoot with a 'scope. Most of what we'll do can be handled by iron sights, anyway. Ranges out here seldom exceed 200 yards,and you see quite well. Probably no worries. The rifle must have landed on the scope, and it took the shock."
Marguerite sniffed. "I should have known that the first thing that you two would discuss when she woke up was guns! Finny, are you thirsty? We can brew tea while the skinners work on those lions, and we have sandwiches, for a civilized lunch. Francolin breast, in fact. Yummy!"
Finn smiled wanly and hugged her friend. In fact, she was hungry, and they got lunch underway as the skinners worked.
Many villagers had gathered, kept at bay by the gunbearers and by Blacklaws. The latter explained that the natives wanted lion claws for potent amulets, and the fat for a variety of imagined cures.
After photos had been taken, the lions were skinned and the villagers given the fat and some bones. The hides would need to be shown to the District Commissioner or the Chief Game Ranger, and were rolled away for better salting that night.
Finally, the cars pulled away, heading for a new campsite that Blacklaws and Hamilton had agreed on. With any luck, their compasses would show them the place at about the same time. If not, whoever camped first would light the cook fires, and the smoke would lead the others to the site. With any luck, no lions would be inclined to march through camp that night, rummaging into tents!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - September 26 2009 : 06:15:56 AM
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Back in the old camp, most items were packed by one PM. They left out enough for lunch, and Susan kept an awning to keep the sun from her damaged eyes.
She sat talking with Veronica, as Ned Malone and the Hamiltons planned the remainder of the day. Hamilton showed Ned on the map where they would meet the other cars, and they agreed to shoot birds over a small waterhole en route. Ned liked big game hunting in moderation, and had the usual African trophies, many collected on last year's trip. But he especially liked wingshooting, and the birds here offered the best of that sport in the world.
Having eaten, the group got the remainder of their things packed onto the truck, and prepared to leave. But as the packing was being completed, Susan got out her binocular and practiced looking at items in the distance. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought that she was seeing better. And the redness in her vision now seemed more pink than red. She strained less to make out details.
Cheered, she got aboard the hunting car with an expression that had Diana Hamilton ask why she was smiling.
"Because I'm alive and I'm here, and I love what we're doing, and because I can see better. Can you imagine what it means to me to know that my eyes are healing?" She felt elated, eager to share her happiness.
Veronica squeezed her hand, and Susan beamed. Little did she realize that soon, she would need her eyes to save her life...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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976 Posts |
Posted - October 01 2009 : 05:52:08 AM
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The expedition that had killed the lions steered toward a nearby river. At this time of year, much of it was dry, with only interspersed pools remaining. And those were full of hippos and crocodiles, with lions and other predators lurking in the long grass that approached the pools.
The hunters wanted to avoid that situation. But Blacklaws and Roxton promised that the sandy riverbed in other places could be mined for water, which they needed.
"All we need do is to dig, like elephants do," Roxton explained. "The water will seep up into the holes and we'll dip it out until we have enough. George, how reliable is that new charcoal filter that you brought? Will it clean and purify the water enough, or do we need to boil it?"
Challenger explained that an old sheet should be used to strain the muddy water, to get out the mud and other elements before it went through his filtraton device. "But the filter will clean it up to almost a pure and pretty state. We'll need to boil it, to be sure. But I feel all but certain that the filter alone will produce drinkable water."
"I hope so," remarked Marguerite Roxton. I don't want to see what it looked like to begin with! I say, have we enough water for tea? I'd like some while you stalwart lads gather more and purify it."
"Me, too," said Finn."I have a headache that tea may help. At least, it'll make me feel more human. Genius, I need two of those analgesic tablets that you make. I ache all over."
So it was that they parked near the riverbed and had tea as the African "boys" and Blacklaws drew water from the sand. Canned meat and whole wheat bread with Dijon-style mustard made a passable snack. And Finn felt alive again after she ate and drank the tea.
"The only problem," she told her mate and friends, "is that I wish that I'd die and stop aching. Lover, rub my back."
And she lay on a car seat as Challenger gently massaged her groaning muscles.
"Altogether, not too bad, Finnkykins," commented Marguerite. "Most girls who get run into by lions fare much worse. A few days under George's skilled hands and you'll feel right as rain."
"Speaking of rain, we could do with a bit," mused Holly Blacklaws, looking at the hot blue sky.
None of them realized that later that afternoon, evil would find it way into their lives again. There was more at stake than rain, however pleasant that would be. Unless it poured too much, as was usually the case here, once the seasonal rains began...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Posted - October 01 2009 : 11:28:29 PM
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Hamilton navigated their way to the new camp site and he, Diana, and the black staff soon had tents pitched and tea ready.
Susan munched a cucumber sandwich as the Malones finished eating and readied their shotguns and other gear for a foray against birds at a nearby waterhole.
"We'll see if Ned and Veronica can bump off some sand grouse and maybe a few francolin partridge, then we'll slip up on that waterhole and fill all of our containers. The other party should have gotten water by now from the river just north of here. We should have plenty for baths and other needs. Well, Malones, shall we bash off and fill the larder?" Hamilton was looking forward to their foray, being fond of the big partridges in particular.
Diana offered to stay in camp with Susan, but the latter lady waved her off. "You go with Stuart and the Malones," she insisted. "The boys will take care of me, and I just want a nap in my tent before you return. Bring some of those francolins, and I'll be happy. I like those better than the pheasants that we shoot at home."
The Hamiltons reluctantly agreed, and the hunting party was off.
Susan took her binocular and studied a martial eagle wheeling high overhead, watching for small mammals and other potential victims. Then, feeling eyestrain, she retired to her tent for a nap.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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976 Posts |
Posted - October 02 2009 : 01:00:01 AM
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Hiding the hunting car in trees near the waterhole, the Malones got out their shotguns and hid in bush round the water. Ned had his high-grade Winchester Model 12 in 12 gauge. He eyed the figured walnut stock and fore-arm as sunlight played along the richly burled wood and polished blue steel. The checkering pattern incorported fleur-de- lis motifs, and enchanted him whenever he handled the gun.
Veronica rolled her eyes at her husband's love for fine guns, but admitted to herself that she did feel similar pride as she loaded her Remington M-17 20 gauge, which was also a special-ordered version, with similar walnut and hand-cut engraving on the receiver sides. Veronica still hunted mainly with the bow and the snare, but had come to agree that a gun could be worth its weight in gold when needed. And a gun might as well look good... Even in the Treehouse, she sometimes took down her rifles and shotguns and walked out onto the balcony, running her hand along the smooth, burnished steel and walnut. She had come to realize that Roxton and Finn had something in their love for firearms. And it was nice to reach out with the gun and get dinner when it might otherwise prove elusive.
Veronica would never become as involved with guns as her close friend Mrs. Challenger or her near-brother, Lord Roxton, but she had indeed come to appreciate them more than she had once thought that she might. And it gave her and Ned something to discuss. Besides, giving Ned an occasional new gun made birthday and Christmas gift decisions easier.
She smiled as she thought of that, turned her 20 gauge over, and pumped a shell into the chamber. She heard Ned mutter that a flight of the fast sand grouse was inbound, and made ready to stand and swing the shotgun as they flashed past, en route to water.
On impulse, she reached over and touched Ned's arm. When he turned to her with a concerned expression, she whispered, "I love you, Ned Malone and I love doing this with you today. Thank you for being patient with me until I realized what a fool I'd been not to fall for you until I did."
Ned looked stunned, then a grin as wide as an inverted rainbow formed on his face. He lowered his Winchester, pulled her over and kissed her, playing with her hair. "It's okay, baby," he whispered back. "You're blonde. Marguerite always says how that limits your ability to make quick, sound decisions."
He toyed with the rings that he had given her from the fabulous treasure of Xochilenque (See, "The Crystal Skull" on the older Orth board) and held her hand as the couple ran eyes over each other and kissed as if they had discovered their love anew.
A crash of wings assailed their ears as the flock of birds flashed over and were gone. Stuart Hamilton tried for a stern expression and commented drily, "I say, Malone, you'll not shoot much game that way!"
Diana laughed and punched her man lightly on the shoulder as the Malones looked up, startled. They had completely forgotten the Hamiltons as they looked into one another's eyes.
Blushing, Ned said, "There'll be more birds soon. But a kiss from Veronica is good enough to miss a chance to win the Irish Sweepstakes. What are a few birds, more or less?"
"Oh, Stuart," exclaimed Diana, "Why don't you say things like that about me?"
Stuart tried to keep a poker face. "I would, Darling, but why state the obvious? Any man who looks at you knows that a night with you, let alone a lifetime, is worth more than the mines at Kimberly."
A furiously blushing Veronica said, "You guys really lay it on thick. Not that Diana and I mind. The heck of it is, Diana, they mean it. They really think of us that way!"
"Quite right," admitted Hamilton. "I say, ladies, here come more birds. We must bag a few, or people in camp will ask what Ned and I have been doing with you girls, off on our own in the bush."
Amused, Veronica said, "Quit blushing, Stuart. We're married. Your reputation is safe."
"Yes, that's the scandal of it," teased Hamilton. "Who ever heard of a Kenya chap having an affair with his wife? That'll raise eyebrows all over the colony!"
"Hush and shoot," admonished Ned. "We need to bring back some meat tonight." And he raised his shotgun and rose as more birds flew into range. But Veronica sat for a moment, savoring what Ned had said and the feel of his hands on her before she, too, rose to shoot. Maybe Marguerite is right about blondes, she mused. I could have had Neddy in my bed and in my heart for several years before I let him in. Sometimes, I can be so stupid. But I'm going to make it up to him for being tardy with my affection. When we make love tonight, I am going to wear out Mr. Malone. He isn't going to be able to stagger out of bed tomorrow, even if an elephant with ivory a hundred pounds a side wanders into camp. I may have started late, but I mean to make up for it. I'll show Mrs. George Challenger who really has the love of all time, the affair of the ages!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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976 Posts |
Posted - October 02 2009 : 01:30:35 AM
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As she spoke, Mrs. Challenger had fallen asleep, head in her husband's lap. Blacklaws tried to find easy going for the safari car, lest any jolting wake Finn. But she seemed oblivious to the motion of the vehicle, exhausted emotionally and physically after her encounter with the charging lion.
The Roxtons spoke softly, Challenger sometimes joining quietly in their converation. Holly Blacklaws found a light blanket in the back and passed it to George, who tucked it over Finn's superb legs, exposed in her relatively brief shorts. He stroked her hair and ears and she purred in her sleep. Challenger reflected how proud he was that his mate had come to trust him so completely that she slept like this, confident that he and the Roxtons would protect her. There had been a time when Finn had come awake at the slightest sound, and he had wondered if she would ever know real trust, let alone security, with anyone besides herself. Tears formed in his eyes, and he wiped them away, feeling self-concious.
He bent over her now, holding her briefy to him, feeling enormous responsibility for her happiness. When he thought about it, the professor realized that he agreed with Finn that they indeed had the affair of all time. The odd couple, perhaps, but the truly happy one...
Marguerite Krux Roxton nudged her man and directed his attention to the Challengers, smiling smugly. She leaned next to John's ear and whispered, "I told you that couple liked one another."
Roxton smiled and joked, "Right you are, Darling. I know never to argue with you." He waggled his eyebrows, teasing her, and Marguerite fought to avoid laughing openly, lest she wake the sleeping huntress.
Suddenly Holly, who had been scanning the landscape through her binocular, tugged at Geoff's sleeve and pointed. To the east, a column of smoke rose sluggishly into the afternoon sky. Probably camp, about where their friends were to meet them. I hope so, she thought, and I hope we have enough water for baths. I think I have more dirt in my pores than there is in the collective minds of all of Parliament!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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976 Posts |
Posted - October 02 2009 : 02:14:09 AM
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In camp, Joseph supervised the other Africans in readying bath water and dinner for the hunters and their clients. He glanced over at mem'Sahib Susan's tent. She was still in there, probably sleeping. This pleased Joseph, for he had come to respect mem'Sahib Susan, a nice girl of her kind, who was always polite and who made him feel appreciated as a valuable human being. This was not always the case with the bwanas and their women. Joseph was glad to have the Challengers and the Roxtons as clients. They were good people, and they tipped well. Mem'Sahib Marguerite could be caustic, but she was often funny, and she had a good heart, although she would deny it, had anyone accused her of kindness. And mem'Sahib Bunduki and her man were also considerate, and funny, if one understood white peoples' humor. Joseph often didn't, but he understood very well that if the bwanas and their mem'Sahibs laughed, it was easier on the black staff.
In her tent, Susan Wilson tossed and twisted in her sleep. She was having a nightmare about a charging lion and a rifle that wouldn't fire. And Mrs. Challenger needed Susan to shoot that lion, about to reach them, its claws almost upon Finn's beautiful, frightened face!
The lion looked at Susan and said, Now I will eat your face, too, white bitch! The effect was so shocking that Susan lurched upright, waking in terror.
She sat for a moment, heart racing. This is a dream, she told herself, staring into the late afternoon shadows at the door to her tent. But then she heard a snuffling sound and a low growl. And an awful odor reached her, like she was in the presence of a demon who bathed in a brimstone lake in Hell. Something was really there!
Trying to focus with her tired, abused eyes, Susan saw a big hyena staring at her, its powerful jaws agape, the tongue lolling obscenely as the heavy black muzzle snuffled again.
Then, as if in the ultimate nightmare, the face seemed to dissolve and merge into the angry features of Karanja wa Kamau, the dead witch doctor!
Susan screamed.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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976 Posts |
Posted - October 04 2009 : 01:16:51 AM
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Startled by the girl's voice, the hyena growled and poised itself to leap. But Susan,wide awake now, reached for the Remington M-17 shotgun by her bed, a 20 gauge like Veronica's. She had loaded it with slugs instead of birdshot, to use against predators in camp. Susan was mindful of the lion that had strolled into the Challengers' empty tent.
To be sure, she had her Smith & Wesson .38 at hand, but was afraid that unless she hit the brain, the revolver might not have enough power to stop a large carnivore intent on eating her.
The slide release on the Remington, which evolved slightly in 1937 to become the famous Ithaca M-37, is on the trigger guard, easily operated by the forefinger of the shooter's hand. Susan tripped the release and frantically pumped a shell into the chamber, pulling the trigger as soon as the slide slammed closed.
BLAM! spoke the shotgun, and hurled a heavy 20 gauge slug into the chest of the leaping hyena. The impact of that slug was considerable. People in some US states hunt deer with such slugs, if the range is apt to be close.
The hyena yelped and landed at her feet. It tried to right itself, but Susan, again frantically pumping the slide, gave it another slug, this time in the head, the muzzle of the gun within two inches of the animal. The nose disappeared in a shower of blood, bits of skull being blown out the back of the beast's head as the cylindrical lead Brenneke slug exited.
The dead intruder slid down and off the side of her camp bed, and Susan heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the extent of the damage that her gun had done.
Her ears rang from the enclosed report of the shotgun, and she was unable to hear Joseph's urgent calls until he appeared in the doorway, panga in hand. With him were two other "boys", also armed with pangas and a spear.
Although horrified at what had just happened, Susan registered their presence, and yelped. She was wearing only brief aqua-colored panties and a lacy white demi bra, and was almost as frightened at being seen undressed by black men as she was at the appearance of the hyena. She pumped another shell into the gun before she caught on that the blacks had come to rescue her, not to harm.
"No, mem'Sahib Susan! Hapana piga! No shoot!" howled Joseph, jumping backward, almost impaling himself on Juma's spearhead. He switched to English, which he spoke fairly well. "Mem'Sahib, we come to help. We heard you scream. What devil is this?"
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 04 2009 : 01:53:41 AM
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"Well," said a still agitated Susan, "It sure as Hell isn't someone's bloody Corgi!"
Seeing the blank look on the headman's face, she remembered that he wasn't an authority on English pet dogs, and probably had no idea what a Corgi was. She explained what the feisty little canine looked like, and Joseph noddded.
"Mem'Sahib makes a joke, because this Corgi dog is small, and Fisi is not?" Fisi was Swahili for "hyena."
Susan nodded, then noticed that there was blood on her legs. Applying the safety on the little Remington shotgun, she set it aside and reached for a towel by the bed. Wetting it, she carefully washed off her legs, looking to be sure that none of the blood was her own. Thankfully, it had all come from the hyena.
Joseph had the dead animal dragged from her tent, respectfully averting his eyes from the half-dressed white girl. Susan shined her flashlight on it, and they noted the brands burned into the beast's hide by the witch doctor, and the cleft that had healed in the right forepaw.
These marks gave the blacks pause, and there were mutters of, "juju". But Joseph spoke sharply to the others, and they finished clearing the animal from the tent.
Then he said to Susan, "If mem'Sahib will dress, I will have the personal boys clean the tent."
Susan nodded, and when the men had withdrawn, she slipped her sheet off and donned tan shorts and a pale blue short-sleeved shirt.
An idea had come to her, and when she had buckled on her gunbelt with the .38 and laced her desert boots, she got her Leica camera and arranged for the hyena to be laid out beyond camp and took its picture. In fact, she took a number of photos, some for Mrs. Challenger's next book, some for the District Commisioner, and some for her own photo alblum. She realized that she was living the stuff of high adventure, performing deeds that most girls her age in England could only hope to read about. She wanted to preserve this wonderful time for her memories.
Pictures taken, the hyena was dragged a decent distance from camp, downwind, where the stench of the carcass wouldn't disturb the expedition when the hunters returned. Susan doubted that anyone wanted the hide or the head for a mount, and the skull had been so badly damaged by the 20 gauge slug that a proper wall mount would be difficult or impossible.
What had she missed?, she wondered. Oh, of course. "Joseph!," she called. When the headman came, she spoke softly to him.
"Will you do me a tremendous favor and not mention to anyone what I was wearing when the hyena came? That might be rather embarrassing."
Joseph nodded eagerly. "That would be best, mem'Sahib. What people do not know about, they cannot speak of, and decorum may be best preserved." And Bwana Blacklaws will not kick my posterior for seeing what I should not, he mused. He rejoiced that mem'Sahib Susan was a wise and kind female. He had met some white women who would have made an issue of such a thing. Truly, if a hyena must sneak into camp in the middle of the afternoon without being seen, it was best that talk be limited to this, and not to what charms some white girl might have been displaying! The hyena, at least, could be blamed on magic. Was it not the animal of the slain witch doctor, whose curse must have lingered within the beast?
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 08 2009 : 04:16:48 AM
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The safari pressed on toward camp when Finn stirred and asked, "Geoff, have we got any fresh milk, or can we stop and buy some at that village on the right? I totally crave hot chocolate tonight, big-time!"
"Need to get some, anyway," conceded the white hunter. "Darling," - this to Holly- "how much milk do we need, beyond that for the Challengers and others wanting cocoa?" He knew that Finn had brought dehydrated cocoa powder from England, the magic of her brilliant husband making it in dried form being a major advance in such things. Challenger was working on a formula that would require only hot water to be added to his mix, Finn having assured him that such things were available in the 21st Century. Instant cocoa...
Holly thought, then told her mate how much milk they required, and they swerved over toward the village. With luck, the blacks would have more than needed, and be happy to sell some. She also wanted to buy butter, if they made it here. And honey. And eggs, now that she thought about it.
The headman and three of his senior warriors came out to greet them, and they began the polite inquiries about crops and children, etc, that tradtionally preceded business talk.
Finn, Holly, and Marguerite drifted over to talk to the women, who often told more of interest than the men. They soon knew what milk and eggs, etc. were for sale, and had concluded the deal as their men still talked. But the black women warned that at least one of the lions was still near. "The demon simba killed and ate two women at a village ten miles distant," translated Marguerite. She spoke Swahili among her strange repetoire of languages, and soon had directions to this village.
By the time that Blacklaws had agreed on a price, the women had everything ready, and the safari was soon off.
Marguerite told her friends about the lions, and Holly said that they had better keep an eagle eye out for them."That village that was mentioned is barely five miles from camp. A short walk for a hungry lion!"
She shivered, and moved closer to her husband. Geoff put his arm around her as Ned drove, and he and Roxton exchanged a thoughtful look...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 10 2009 : 04:01:28 AM
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The tired hunters drove into camp a bit after four PM. The others greeted them with relief, Hamilton twitting Blacklaws about being afraid that he might not have been able to find them.
"Oh, I can always find you, old boy. My concern was whether you could figure out where you were supposed be so that I could look for you!" Blacklaws had a quick wit, and was not an easy man to "rib." Even Marguerite had learned that Geoff was as drolly humorous as she herself was, and had grudgingly accorded the handsome South African hunter a healthy dose of respect. She smiled now at his response to his friend and partner's joust.
"No worries, Stuart," she said. "If Geoff had gotten lost, Roxton here once made me learn to use a compass. I could have found you, if you were where you belonged. As long as you can make tea in camp I will always locate you. I'll have an incentive. Morrighan discovers all, where tea is involved."
She turned to her bruised blonde friend. "I say, Finnykins, are you about to boil that milk and make cocoa? See if they'll make a pot of tea while they're at it."
Joseph came over and said, "Mem'Sahib, we saw you in the distance. The water is just boiling, and you will have a pot of tea in brief moments. Please to sit at table. Boys will bring tea and sugar."
He hoped that tea would leave the newcomers in a better mood when they heard about the hyena.
That wasn't long in coming. The breeze shifted, and Finn's nose flared as she sniffed the wind and turned to Roxton. She also slipped her rifle off of her shoulder, where she had been carrying it on its leather sling. "I smell Fisi, I think," she declared. "Or, some animal very like a hyena, and it stinks." Finn was in some ways still almost feral. She had feared for her life for so long in New Amazonia and had become so attuned to the jungle on the Plateau that she still scented and heard things that most civilized people could not. John Roxton was very close to her in that way, and his senses were also tuned to pick up on such subtle survival signals. Orion and Diana were a good team, as their Kenya friends had come to realize.
He also unslung his .416, which he was carrying. The gunbearers were just taking the other rifles from the car. Challenger smelled it now, too, and reached for the Colt .45 on his hip.
"It's cool, everyone," said Susan, coming towards them from the canvas ladies' room. She sometimes said things that only she or her heroine, Mrs. Challenger, would speak. Slang from a hundred years and more into the future...
"'Cool', my blithering arse," muttered Lady Roxton, who now also smelled what wafted on the air. "Susan, what IS that? Have you been learning to cook, and it didn't work out?"
Susan smiled impishly. "No, ma'am. But I doubt that you'd fancy eating that, anyway. Mrs. Challenger was right: it's dead hyena." And she told the tale of her adventurous afternoon as Joseph wrung his hands and hoped that he wouldn't be blamed for the big carnivore slipping unnoticed into camp.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 10 2009 : 05:38:31 AM
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"Susan was just telling us about the hyena and how she took ample photos of it for the D.C. and for Finn's book," commented Hamilton. "Diana and I just got home with the Malones not long before you lot rolled in. We were going to wash up and have tea before I had someone take that thing away or bury it. I thought you might want to have a look at it. It has brands in its hide, and the right forefoot is cut with Karanja's mark. A real juju hyena, witch doctor's special."
Roxton's interest was piqued. "Susan, you used that little Remington 20 gauge, with slugs? Finny, lets go see what damage it did."
"Feel free, " snorted his mate. "Essence du hyena! Only my husband and his faithful Girl Guide hunting companion would want to smell that! Susan, you shot it. Go with that pair and see that they get back here before supper. Left to themselves, they'll want to dissect it and study the expanded slug, or something."
Challenger laughed. "I had perhaps better go, too, Marguerite. That carcass may have parasites on it that are new to Science."
Marguerite rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation at her companions' interests. Diana and Holly laughed and led her to the table, where the three awaited tea, and Holly and the countess caught up with Veronica on the Malones' day and what was for dinner. Ned came over, having already seen the dead hyena, and bragged how he had shot some running francolin partridges for the larder. "Pretty soon, you'll smell them cooking, and the odor will be a lot better than that deceased hyena. But I have to admit, Susan did pretty well by herself in killing that thing before it got its teeth into her."
Those who had gone to study the hyena were soon back, Blacklaws admonishing the African "boys" to bury it deeply,and to put heavy stones on the grave, lest its own kind dig it up to eat as they slept. Finn had talked Challenger out of studying the parasites, pleading that she was too tired to wait. "I feel and look black and blue. I've decided not to be run into by any more lions, man-eaters or not," she moaned.
Susan took her arm and gave her such a compassionate look that Finn felt a little better, and hugged Susan back. "Nice shooting, Susan," she told her secretary, who beamed at this praise from her employer, role model, and mentor.
After tea, the hunters bathed before dinner, the aroma of the roasting birds hurrying them from their ablutions. Finn had George massage her aching body first, but hunger soon overruled even that luxury, always a prized perk of her being married to a man who troubled himself to pamper her.
Dinner was as delicious as it smelled, and Blacklaws wryly told Joseph that he was off the hook for the hyena almost getting Susan.
All ate heartily, their appetites honed by hard hunting and the rugged outdoor life.
Blacklaws had had a spare tent pitched for Susan, it being impossible to get all the blood out of the fabric of hers. Finn told her to locate the new tent next to hers and the Genius's. "After what you went through and that lion being in our tent so recently, we may as well be ready to look after one another, Susan. And if you shoot that well and stay that cool, I want you near me."
Susan glowed under that praise from Mrs. Challenger, and Marguerite hid a smile. She wished that she had had a mentor who was as fond of her as Finn was of Susan when she had been Susan's age.
"Ma'am, should I really be that near your tent? I mean, you and the professor may want more privacy." Susan was still shy, and considerate.
"Not tonight," groaned Finn. "All the action that the Genius is getting from me is him rubbing my sore body until I pass out. I have aches in places where I didn't even know that I had places."
The others murmured sympathetic best wishes for her to feel better, and conversation shifted to the next day's hunting and the remaining man-eaters.
After a time, Marguerite noticed that Challenger seemed lost in reverie, although he was rubbing Finn's neck with one big hand as they awaited dessert. "Penny for your thoughts, George," she offered.
He looked startled. "Oh, I was just thinking. No point in looking for parasites on that dead hyena. After the body cooled, the fleas and whatnot mostly left their host, anyway."
Marguerite shook her head in amusement, and even the sore Finn grinned at her mate's dedication to Science. A marvelous cake came, with more tea, and everyone dug in happily.
But when it was time to sleep, Marguerite made Roxton get up and check that the door of their tent was tied firmly shut. "I have no intention of being eaten, considering what we're paying for this wonderful little trip," she complained.
Roxton checked the door, set his .416 beside the bed,and crawled in. "You know, Marguerite, that was really pretty cool shooting on Susan's part, with the hyena. I was quite impressed with what those 20 gauge slugs did to that varlet."
She muttered, "John, you're as bad about your obsessions as George Challenger is with his. Get your mind out of the shooting gallery for once, and make love to me. I need you to take my mind off of lions maybe eating me tonight."
Roxton laughed, and pulled her to him. He did a very thorough job of distracting her mind from lions, and she almost purred as she snuggled next to him before they slept. That lasted until she heard distant lions calling in the night an hour later. She turned on her flashlight and checked the door again, and looked to her rifle by her side of the bed.
Could be worse, she reflected. At least, it isn't bloody dinosaurs scaring me anymore...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 13 2009 : 10:02:55 AM
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Breakfast was a happier occasion. No lion tracks were found in camp, Ned claiming that Marguerite's aura or a premonition on the lions' part that she was there must have frightened them off.
"It's more likely that they're afraid that you'll feature them in some lurid book," Marguerite fired back.
"Ned's next book will probably be out before mine," groaned Finn. "I had a pretty miserable night. I don't think I can type for months. Seriously, I feel better than I did yesterday afternoon, but not much. The Genius was great. He rubbed me all over until I felt better, and I just took two more of his pain pills. But I may be stiff for several days."
"You got off as well as could be expected," Roxton observed. "I saw that big cat coming at you and was afraid that it would reach you before you and George could kill it. Good thing it died when it did, or your flawless complexion would have been disastrously rearranged."
"Speaking of lions," Marguerite resumed, "I had a pretty awful dream or vision or something that woke me about three AM. I must have been even more stressed by them than I'd realized. Anyway, I saw Finny and Susan trying to shoot a charging lion, but their rifles wouldn't fire. And the lion spoke. Don't suppose they really do that very often."
Susan suddenly went tense, dropped her fork in her eggs, and stared at Lady Roxton. "What exactly did the lion say? I had a quite similar bad dream just before I woke from it and found that hyena staring at me."
Marguerite looked carefully at Susan and replied, "Well, he was quite a rude lion. Probably wasn't brought up properly in a good home. But he said, 'I will eat your face, white bitch'. Now, don't tell me..."
"Yes," said Susan Wilson, turning pale. "That is just what the lion in my dream said! I remember thinking later that it might have been some premonition that the hyena was there, that my subconcious was talking to me. Hyenas often do snap off sleeping peoples' faces. How uncanny is that, us both having that same dream? Do you think this was Morrighan speaking to you or through you?"
Marguerite trembled slightly and took her husband's hand. "I don't know, Susan," she said quietly. "I don't usually know why I get such impressions or visions, or whatever they are. But for us to have the same dream..."
"Maybe you two can recall what was in the background," suggested Veronica. "That might tell us where the lions are, so we can be extra wary if we see a place like that." Having lived among the Zanga Indians in Brazil and seen how their shamans sometimes had similar visions, she was less inclined to dismiss such things as trivial coincidence or superstition.
Blacklaws and Hamilton said that both women were probably just upset by the recent doings with the late Karanja wa Kamau and the lion that had been in camp.
"Still,", said Hamilton, "we'll be careful to avoid situations where lions might have a go at us. We need to move from this area, anyway. We'll shoot a nice bushbuck or two at a place I know, then head over to visit Angus Hardy. Does that suit everyone?"
"Daddy would love to have us," reminded Diana Hardy Hamilton. "He invited us when we were all at the D.C.'s place during that native attack."
"Suits us," said Ned after looking at Veronica. "We can spend a few days with Angus, then we really need to head for Mombasa if we're going to have any time to visit with the rest of you in England, like we planned."
The Roxtons and the Challengers agreed, and the group planned to hunt bushbuck that day and the next, if they proved elusive. Then, they were off to see Diana's father and hunt leopard, buffalo, and perhaps a few antelope on his large farm.
"We'll try to steer clear of lions, if we can," promised John Roxton, to his spouse's relief. But Lady Roxton exchanged an uneasy glance with Susan. Both had an unpleasant feeling that their mutual dreams might foretell an impending event.
Challenger motioned for the personal boy to bring more coffee. "I feel sure that this is just due to stress," he said. "There is no scientific reason why you should have seen anything likely to happen in real life."
Finn sat as the coffee made its rounds, and apologized for not getting it for her husband. It was a point of pride for her to serve him, for which she was often teased by her friends. "I'm just too danged stiff and sore," she admitted.
"Quite all right, Darling," Challenger assured her, patting her shoulder. "You must take it easy for a few days. I'll take care of you, for a change."
"I'll help, too," promised Susan. "In fact, if we stay in camp and look after one another, maybe we can avoid leaping lions that speak."
Everyone smiled, but like Susan, they would soon find that fate would take its course, however careful the girls planned to be...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 17 2009 : 04:39:01 AM
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Two days later, they had collected several bushbuck and a big warthog from the forested areas near their camp. Ned had knocked over a record book-class Grant's gazelle with a shot from his .270 Winchester, and all had enjoyed shooting spurfowl, francolins, and the speedy sand grouse. Had they had enough shotgun shells and more time, they could have spent days on that sporty bird alone. But none of this group of hunters was the sort who shot excessively. Beyond what they could use for the camp larder, they gave some fowl to nearby natives, who were happy to get the protein.
Ned gave his Winchester Model 12 a good workout, but explained that Americans had lost the once-prolific passenger pigeon, and that the bison had been put on the endangered list due to overhunting by market gunners. Some duck species were now quite limited in the number allowed on hunting licenses, again due to pressure from market gunners, before commercial hunting had been outlawed in the United States.
"We've shot all the birds that we can eat before they go bad in this heat," he declared, and Blacklaws agreed.
"Tomorrow, lets break camp and saunter over to Stuart's father-in-law's place. We can sleep in sumptuous luxury, in indoor rooms, with real plumbing. Even the countess will be satisfied with the bathtubs there, eh, Marguerite?"
That lady gave him a cool look and said that she certainly deserved better bathing facilities than this camp provided. "But the bill of fare seems rather good," she grudgingly admitted. "Partridge and venison tonight, with fresh vegetables. I can do no better than that at home. But I've been craving fish. Can't we get out our rods and tackle and cast a few hooks on the way to Angus's farm?"
"Indeed, we can," said Diana. "George, don't you and Finny fish? We'll pass a river of considerable size, and some pools there have plenty of Nile perch and tiger fish, also tilapia, which are sort of like a big bream. Very tasty, and the cooks do very well by them. You'd never guess it, but Kidogo can make quite good sauces for fish. Just use caution: we'll need some of us to stand ready with rifles in case of crocodiles or hippo making an issue of our presence."
"Not to worry," her husband hastened to add. "We'll find a place where neither of those is common. Just have to be careful. Remember, this is Africa. Everything bites. Including tiger fish! They have jaws like a set of reinforced razor blades. Apart from that, Ned, and orange-tinted fins, they look rather like your American coastal bass, what you Yanks call striped bass."
"Genus Roccus," nodded Challenger, as if anyone present other than him knew much about the genera of fish. "Quite tasty. Finn and I have eaten them in New York and in Richmond while in the U.S. on business. American housewives buy quite a lot of my houseware inventions. And Finn's books now have American editions." He looked quite pleased at sharing this happy news.
"I'm feeling better," said his spouse. "Maybe I can cast okay in a day or so. May help work out some of the soreness." She moaned and rubbed her own arm. Challenger saw, had her turn her back to him, and began massaging her tense shoulders. He knew how Finn loved to fish, as did he. He saw the look in her eyes as the angling was being discussed, and rejoiced to see her take that pleasure in it. Back in Britain, she had looked forward to catching tiger fish, and they had the right tackle for it. He wondered how one of his salmon rods would fare. At home, the Roxtons and the Challengers made salmon fishing a seasonal excursion, and each couple had access to trout and pike on their own waters.
Dinner was as scrumptuous as Marguerite had hoped, and the couples sat around after, finshing off the wine, the Hamiltons and the Blacklaws duo telling thrilling stories of the African bush.
Later, Finn, George, Susan, and the Malones walked as far out of camp as was safe, rifles and binoculars at hand. They studied the night sky, with its infinite profusion of stars.
"Remember what Johnny said out here last year, about how people are somewhere between the turtles and the stars on the scale of existence?" Finn felt small when comparing herself to God's greater works.
"Doesn't matter," quipped Ned Malone. "You, Susan, and Veronica are close to the angels, as creatures go. Don't I tell you that you're angelic, Honey? Life with you is truly heavenly." He leaned over and kissed his blushing mate.
"Ned has a point at that," declared Challenger, pulling Finn in for a kiss and a hug. She squeezed back, then saw the forlorn look on Susan's face as the moon rose. She reached for her shy secretary and included her in the hug.
"I thank Heaven for Susan almost nightly," she proclaimed. "I don't know what I'd do without her, right, Genius?"
Veronica thought that was sweet of Finn, Susan having no man of her own on this romantic night. She decided to tell her so in the morning.
They watched the stars a bit longer, identifying constellations, difficult to separate in the tremendous stellar display in this dark place. Then, the two couples and the beautiful blonde companion and helper of one retreated to camp, as rustles in the darkness reminded them that this was not a safe haven. Ned flicked on his flashlight, reflecting the eyes of a passing serval, which stared briefly, then leaped back into the shadows. It was probably hunting mice in the long grass.
In their tents, lights out, each of the whites shared their thoughts, Susan dreaming of a man like Roxton or Blacklaws to someday sweep her off her feet, and take her to enchanted places. Like a home of their own! She wondered briefly whether she should have competed with Holly for Blacklaws when the handsome hunter had been among their rescuers from slavers the previous year. She had thought about it, but didn't know him, whereas Holly did.
And Holly was bolder, the daughter of a rich man, pampered, used to getting what she wanted. Her mind made up, she had shamelessly flaunted her superb body, making certain that Geoff couldn't miss her "accidental" exposure of shapely legs...once she had donned clothes! Blacklaws had already had more than an eyeful of the slaves before the girls had been freed of their chains and provided clothing from the women who had avoided capture.
Susan smiled. In her way, Holly was as skilled a huntress as her man was a hunter. And Geoff, she had to admit, had largely tamed his wife, making her think more of others and to be less hedonistic and self centered. Holly was now actually fun to know, less condescending to Susan than she had been when Susan was a teller at Holly's father's bank.
Susan heard the Challengers stir in the next tent, and Finn's soft, sensual, feminine laughter as George did something to her that she liked. Susan loved the Challengers, who had come to mean so much to her. Could she have pursued George as Finn wanted, had Finn fallen to the black rebels in that battle that now seemed long ago?
Maybe. He might accept her, and the two would look after one another; Susan knew that. And she would do her best to help the Genius raise his two young children. But did Susan really want Challenger's children as her own? Would she have the true passion in marriage that the Challengers felt for one another? Probably not, she decided. Susan wanted a different man, however much she admired George Challenger. She was profoundly grateful that Finn had survived, and that the couple were safe in one anothers' arms.
Who, then? She envisioned a man with Challenger's brilliance, Roxton's and Ned's droll humor, Blacklaws's swagger and daring, with Stuart Hamilton's quiet competence and adoration of Diana. And who was smitten with her, Susan! A face not unlike a younger John Roxton formed in her mind, and she pulled the pillow into her arms, and cuddled with it, wondering whether he existed, before she slept.
It seemed no time at all before the personal boy was tapping at the entrance to her abode, murmuring, "Mem'Sahib Susan, mimi lette chai."
(I bring tea.)
Susan Wilson sighed, rolled out of bed, and donned her warm green robe, like Mrs. Challenger's. Tonight, she decided, I'm going to think a little more about that fantasy man. They can't blame a girl for dreaming...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
976 Posts |
Posted - October 17 2009 : 05:38:38 AM
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Late the next day, nearing the river, they paused at a dukka to replenish supplies. Fresh fruit, canned goods, whiskey, gasoline (petrol) and other essentials...
Susan saw several boxes of an Austrian brand of 7mm rifle ammunition on a shelf behind the Indian proprietor. He saw the direction of her gaze, and said, "Oh, pretty blonde lady! For you alone, today, this cartridges is being on sale! For merely 50 rupees, all seven of these boxes can be yours. This is much less than I would have to charge for other famous brands, had I even got them in stock, which alas, I have not."
Susan reflected. She was certainly better paid by the Challengers than she had been at the bank, but she had bought most of her pesonal items for this safari. She was not exactly rife with money. At home, even a new pistol or a good dress and accessories were major expenses for her. Her Rigby rifle was a gift from Roxton, who had realized that her income did not extend to expensive custom firearms. And she had fired much of her supply of .275 (7mm) ammo during the seige at the Musgrave home and fortress. And more had been fired at game. Even if she was able to find more genuine Kynoch ammunition so far from Nairobi, she could not afford to buy much of that proprietary make. The Indian's price was tempting...
Roxton saw what was happening, and made the point that she would be better off with British, German, or American cartridges. "This fellow has probably had those boxes sitting on his shelves here in equatorial heat and seasonal humidity for years. Some of the caps (primers, to US readers) may have gone bad, and the powder may not be fresh enough to perform right."
"Yes, your lordship, but he does have them here, and nothing else in 7mm," Susan pointed out. "And to tell the truth, the price is important to me." She flushed, embarrassed.
"Look here, Susan," said the earl. "if this heathen merchant wants to sell that ammo, and will take 40 rupees for it, I'll buy it for you. No, I insist, to make my point. If all of those rounds that you shoot perform well, you can pay me back, if you insist. But if even one fails, the seven boxes are on me, so that I can gloat about being right."
"Let him do it," said Marguerite. "He hasn't gotten to really gloat about anything since I told him that I'd marry him." She smiled impudently at her lord and master, who rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation.
Susan laughed, "Well, Lord Roxton, if you,insist. But if it works, I do mean to repay you."
The shopkeeper did accept the 40 rupees that the earl offered, and the cartridges changed hands. But in time, they would learn that Roxton had been right, and this was to nearly cost Finn and Susan their lives!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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A Lion Comes!
