In for the mAin course and not too certain he was going to be able to

chew this mouthful.

Jan Paulus tested Sean with a long right-hander but Sean rolled his head

with it and the thick pad of his beard cushioned the blow; he hooked Jan

Paulus in the ribs under. his raised arm and Jan Paulus grunted and

circled awayForgetting his scruples, Oupa Leroux watched them with

rising delight. It was going to be a good fight. They were well

matched, both big men, under thirty, quick and smooth on their feet.

Both had fought before and that often; you could tell it by the way they

felt each other out turning just out of reach, moving in to offer an

opening that a less experienced man might have attempted and regretted,

then dropping back.

The fluid, almost leisurely pattern of movement exploded. Jan Paulus

jumped in, moving left, changed direction like the recoil of a whip lash

and used his right hand again; Sean ducked under it and laid himself

open to Jan Paulus's left. He staggered back from its kick, bleeding

where it had split the flesh across his cheek-bone, and Jan Paulus

followed him eagerly, Ins hands held ready, searching for the opening.

Sean kept clear, instinct moving his feet until the blackness faded

Inside his head and he felt the strength in his arms again. He saw Jan

Paulus following him and he let his legs stay rubbery; he dropped his

hands and waited for Jan Paulus to commit himself. Too late Jan Paulus

caught the cunning in Sean's eyes and tried to break from the trap, but

clenched bone raked his face. He staggered away and now he was bleeding

also.

They fought through the wagons with the advantage changing hands a dozen

times. They came together and used their heads and their knees, they

broke and used their fists again. Then locked chest to chest once more

they rolled down the steep bank into the river bed of the Limpopo. They

fought in the soft sand and it held their legs, it filled their mouths

when they fell and clung like white icing-sugar to their hair and

beards. They splashed into one of the pools and they fought in the

water, coughing with the agony of it in their lungs, floundering like a

pair of bull hippos, their movements slowing down until they knelt

facing each other, no longer able to rise, the water running from them

and the only sound their gasping for air.

Not sure whether the darkness was actuality or a fantasy of fatigue, for

the sun had set by the time they were finished, Sean watched Jan Paulus

starting to puke, retching with a tearing noise to bring up a small

splash of yellow bile. Sean crawled to the edge of the pool and lay

with his face in the sand. There were voices echoing in his ears and

the light of a lantern, the light was red filtered through the blood

that had trickled into his eyes.

His servants lifted him and he hardly felt them. The light and the

Voices faded into blackness as he slipped over the edge of

consciousness.

The sting of iodine woke him and he struggled to sit up but hands pushed

him down. Gently, gently, the fight is over. Sean focused his one eye

to find the voice. The pinkness of Ouma Leroux hung over him. Her

hands touched his face and the antiseptic stung him again. He exclaimed

through puffed lips. So! just like a man OumA chuckled. Your head

nearly knocked off without a murmur but one touch of medicine and you

cry like a baby. Sean ran his tongue round inside his mouth; one tooth

loose but all the others miraculously present. He started to lift his

hand to touch his closed eye but Ouma slapped it down impatiently and

went on working over him. Glory, what a fight! She shook her head

happily. You were good, kerel, - you were very good. Sean looked beyond

her and saw the girl. She was standing in shadow, a silhouette against

the pale canvas. She was holding a basin. Ouma turned and dipped the

cloth in it, washing out the blood before she came back to his face. The

wagon rocked under her weight and the lantern that hung from the roof

swung, lighting the girl's face from the side. Sean's legs straightened

on his cot and he moved his head slightly to see her better. Be still,

jong, Ouma commanded. Sean looked past her at the girl at the full

serene line of her lips and the curve of her cheek. He saw the pile of

her hair fluff up in happy disarray and then, suddenly, penitent, slide

down behind her neck, curl over her shoulder and hang to her waist in a

plait as thick as his wrist. Katrina, do you expect me to reach right

across to the basin each time? Stand closer, girl She stepped into the

light and looked at Sean. Green, laughing almost bubbling green was the

colour of her eyes. Then she dropped them to the basin. Sean stared at

her, not wanting to miss the moment when she would look up again.

My big bear, Ouma spoke with grudging approval.

Steal our camp site, fight my son and ogle my daughter.