Inflection of her voice: was it good that they were fine, or good that

he had left them? So far the indications were favourable;

her confusion at seeing him boded well. What's wrong? Ouma bellowed

from one of the other wagons. It's not Oupa, don't tell me something

has happened to him?

The wagon rocked wildly and her pink face, puckered with sleep, popped

out of the opening.

Sean's reassurances were smothered by her voice. Oh, I knew this would

happen. I had a feeling. I shouldn't have let him go! Paulus, oh, Jan

Paulus, I must go to him. Where is he?

Henrietta came running" from the cooking fire behind the wagons and then

the dogs started barking and the servants added their chatter to the

confusion. Sean tried to shout them all down and watch Katrina emerging

from her wagon at the same time. She had disciplined her hair now, it

had a green ribbon in it and hung down her back.

She was laughing and she helped him to quieten Ouma and Henrietta.

They brought him coffee, then they sat round him and listened to the

story of the hunt. Sean went into detail on the rescue of Jan Paulus

and was rewarded by a softening of the dislike in Henrietta's eyes. By

the time Sean had finished talking it was too late to start moving the

wagons across the river. So he talked some more, it was most agreeable

to have three women as an attentive audience, and then they ate supper.

With ostentatious tact Ouma and Henrietta retired early to their

respective living wagons and left Sean and Katrina sitting by the fire.

At carefullY-spaced intervals there was a stage cough from ouma's wagon,

a reminder that they were not entirely alone. Sean lit a cheroot and

frowned into the fire searching desperately for something intelligent to

say, but all his brain could dredge up was, Thank God, Oupa isn't here

He sneaked a glance at Katrina: she was staring into the fire as well

and she was blushing. Instantly Sean felt his own cheeks starting to

heat up. He opened his mouth to talk and made a squawking noise. He

shut it again. We can speak in English if you like, meneer. You speak

English? Sean's surprise brought his voice back.

I -Practise every night, I read aloud out of my books Sean grinned at

her delightedly, it was suddenly very important that she could speak his

language. The dam, holding back all the questions that there were to

ask and all the things there were to Say, burst and the words came

pouring out over each other. Katrina fluttered her hands when she

couldn't find the word she wanted and then lapsed back into Afrikaans.

They killed the short taut silences with a simultaneous rush of words,

then laughed together in confusion. They sat on the edges of their

chairs and watched each other's faces as they talked. The moon came up,

a red rain moon, and the fire faded into a puddle of ashes. Katrina,

It's long past the time decent people were asleep. I'm sure Meneer

Courtney is tired. They dropped their voices to a whisper, drawing out

the last minutes. In just one minute, girl, I'm coming out to fetch you

to bed They walked to her wagon and with each step her skirts brushed

against his leg. She stopped with one hand on the wagon step. She

wasn't as tall as he'd imagined, the top of her head came to his chin.

The seconds slid by as he hesitated, reluctant to touch, strangely

frightened to test the delicate thread they had spun together lest he

destroy it before it became strong. Slowly he swayed towards her and

something surged up inside him as he saw her chin lift slightly and the

lashes fall over her eyes. Goodnight, Meneer Courtney. Ouma's voice

again, loud and with an edge to it. Sean started guiltily.

, Goodnight, mevrouw. Katrina touched his arm just above the elbow, her

fingers were warm.

gGoodn ight, meneer, I shall see you in the morning.

She rustled up the steps and slipped through the opening of the canvas.

Sean scowled at ouma's wagon.

'Thanks very much, and if there is ever anything I can do for you,

please don't hesitate to ask. They started moving the wagons early next

morning.

There was no time to talk to Katrina in the bustle of inspanning and

working the wagons across the corduroy bridge. Sean spent most of the

morning in the river-bed and the white sand bounced the heat up at him.

He threw off his shirt and sweated like a wrestler. He trotted beside

Katrina's wagon when they ran it through the river-bed.

She looked once at his naked chest and arms; her cheeks darkened in the

shadow of her bonnet and she dropped her eyes and didn't look at him

again. With only the two wagons that were going back to fetch the ivory

still on the north bank and the rest safely across, Sean could relax.

He washed in one of the pools, put on his shirt and went across to the

south bank looking forward to a long afternoon of Katrina's company.

Ouma met him. Thank you, my bear, the girls have made you a parcel of

cold meat and a bottle of coffee to eat on your way. Sean's face went

slack. He had forgotten all about that stinking ivory; as far as he was

concerned Oupa and Paulus could keep the lot of it.

Don't worry about us any more now, maneer. I know how it is with a man

who is a man. When there's work to do everything else comes after.

Katrina put the food in his hands. Sean looked for a sign from her.

one sign and he'd defy even Ouma.

Don't be too long, she whispered. The thought that he might shirk work

had obviously not even occurred to her.

Sean was glad he hadn't suggested it.

It was a long ride back to the elephant. You've taken your time,

haven't you? Oupa greeted him with sour suspicion. You'd better get to

work if you don't want to lose some of your share. Taking out the tusks

was a delicate task: a slip of the axe would scar the ivory and halve

its value. They worked in the heat with a blue haze of flies around

their faces, settling on their lips and crawling into their nostrils and

eyes. The carcases had started to rot and the gases ballooned their

bellies and escaped in posthumous belches.

They sweated as they worked and the blood caked their arms to the

elbows, but each hour the wagons filled higher until on the third day

they loaded the last tusk.

Sean reckoned Ins share at twelve hundred pounds, the equivalent of a

satisfactory day on the Stock Exchange.

He was in a good mood on the morning that they started back to the camp,

but it deteriorated as the day wore on and they struggled with the

heavily-loaded wagons. The rain seemed to have made up its mind at Last

and now the sky's belly hung down as heavily as that of a pregnant sow.

The clouds trapped the heat beneath them and the men panted and the oxen

complained mournfully. At midafternoon they heard the first far

thunder.

It will be on us before we pass the river, fretted Oupa. See if you

can't get some pace out of those oxen.

They reached Sean's camp an hour after dark and threw his share of the

ivory out of the wagons almost without stopping, then they went down to

the river and across the bridge to the south bank. My mother will have

food ready Jan Paulus called back to Sean. When you have washed come

across and eat with us. Sean had supper with the Leroux, but his

attempts to get Katrina by herself were neatly countered by Oupa whose

suspicions were now confirmed. The old man played his trump card

immediately after supper and ordered Katrina to bed. Sean could only

shrug helplessly in reply to Katrina's appealing little glance. When

she had gone Sean went back to his own camp. He was dizzy, with fatigue

and he fell onto his cot without bothering to undress.

The rains opened their annual offensive with a midnight broadside of

thunder. It startled Sean to his feet before he was awake. He pulled

open the front of the wagon and heard the wind coming. Mbejane, get the

cattle into the laager. Make sure all the canvas is secure. It is done

already, Nkosi, I have lashed the wagons together so the oxen cannot

stampede and I have Then the wind whipped his voice away.

It came out of the east and it frightened the trees so they thrashed

their branches in panic; it drummed on the wagon canvas and filled the

air with dust and dry leaves.

The oxen turned restlessly within the laager. Then came the rain:

stinging like hail, drowning the wind and turning the air to water. It

swamped the sloping ground that could not drain It fast enough, it

blinded and it deafened.

Sean went back to his cot and listened to its fury. it made him feel

drowsy. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and slept.

In the morning he found his oilskins in the chest at the foot of his

cot. They crackled as he pulled them on. He climbed out of the wagon.

The cattle had churned the inside of the laager to calf-deep mud and

there was no chance of a fire for breakfast. Although the rain was

still falling the noise was out of proportion to its strength.

Sean paused in his inspection of the camp; he thought about it and

suddenly he knew that it was the flood voice of the Limpopo that he

heard. Sliding in the mud, he ran out of the laager and stood on the

bank of the river. He stared at the mad water. It was so thick with

mud it looked solid and it raced so fast it appeared to be standing

still. It humped up over piles of submerged rock, guRied through the

deeps and hissed in static waves through the shallows. The branches and

tree trunks in it whisked past so swiftly that they did little to dispel

the illusion that the river was frozen in this brown convulsion.

Reluctantly Sean lifted his eyes to the far bank. The Leroux wagons

were gone. Katrina, he said with the sadness of the might-have been,

then again, Katrina, with the sense of his loss melting in the flame of

his anger, and he knew that his wanting: was not just the itch that is

easily scratched and forgotten, but that it was the true ache, the one

that gets into your hands and your head and your heart as well as your

loins. He couldn't let her go. He ran back to his wagon and threw his

clothes onto the cot.

I'll marry her, he said and the words startled him. He stood naked,

with an awed expression on his face.

I'll marry her! he said again; it was an original thought and it

frightened him a little. He took a pair of shorts out of his chest and

put his legs into them; he pulled them up and buttoned the fly. I'll

marry her! He grinned at his own daring. I'm damned if I won't! He

buckled his belt on and tied a pair of veldschoen to it by their laces.

He jumped down into the mud. The rain was cold on his bare back and he

shivered briefly.

Then he saw Mbejane coming out of one of the other wagons and he ran.

Nkosi, Nkosi, what are you doing? Sean put his head down and ran faster

with Mbejane chasing him out onto the bank of the river. It's madness.

. . let us talk about it first Mbejane shouted. Please, Nkosi,

please. Sean slipped in the mud and slithered down the bank. Mbejane

jumped down after and caught him at the edge of the water, but the mud

had coated Sean's body like grease and Mbejane couldn't hold him. Sean

twisted out of his hands and sprang far out. He hit the water flat and

swam on his back trying to avoid the undertow. The river swept him

away. A wave slapped into his mouth and he doubled up to Tough,