Vainly to draw her into a discussion of the house they would build. He

read to her from Duff's

books and the only reaction he received was a small quivering of her

lips when he read the words death or child.

He talked about the days on the Witwatersrand, searching his mind for

stories that might amuse her. He broughtDirk to her and let him play

about the wagon. Dirk was walking now, his dark hair had started to

curl and his eyes were green. Dirk, however, could not be too long

confined in the wagon. There was too much to do, too much to explore.

Before long he would stagger to the entrance and issue the imperial

summons: IBejaan!

Bejaan! Almost immediately Mbejane's head would appear in the opening

and he would glance at Sean for permission. All right, take him out

then . . . but tell Kandhla not to stuff him full of food. Quickly,

before Sean changed his mind, Mbejane would lift Dirk down and lead him

away. Dirk had nearly two dozen Zulus to spoil him. They competed

hotly for his affections, no effort was too much, dignified Mbejane down

on his hands and knees being ridden mercilessly in and out among the

wagons, Hlubi scratching himself under the arms and gibbering insanely

in his celebrated imitation of a baboon while Dirk squealed with

delight, fat Kandhla raiding Katrina's store of fruit preserves to make

sure Dirk was properly fed and the others keeping in the background,

anxious to join the worship but fearful of incurring the jealousy of

Mbejane and Hlubi. Sean knew what was happening but he was powerless to

prevent it. His time was completely devoted to Katrina.

For the first time in his LIFE Sean was giving more than just a

superficial part of himself to another human being.

It was not an isolated sacrifice: it went on throughout the months it

took for Katrina to regain sufficient of her strength to enable her to

sit up in bed without assistance; it continued through the months that

she needed before Sean judged it safe to resume the trek towards the

south.

They built a litter for her. Sean would not risk the jarring of the

wagon, and the first day's trek lasted two hours.

Four of the servants carried the litter and Katrina lay in it, protected

from the sun by a strip of canvas spread above her head. Despite the

gentleness with which the Zulus handled her, at the end of the two hours

Katrina was exhausted. Her back ached and she was sweating in small

beads from her yellow skin. The next week they travelled two hours

daily and then gradually increased the time until they were making a

full day's journey.

They were halfway to the Magahesberg, camped at a muddy waterhole in the

thorn flats, when Mbejane came to Sean. There is still one wagon empty

of ivory, Nkosi. The others are full Sean pointed out. Four hours,

march from this place there is enough ivory buried to fill those wagons.

Sean's mouth twisted with pain. He looked away towards the south-east

and he spoke softly. Mbejane, I am still a young man and yet already I

have stored UP enough ugly memories to make my old age sad. Would you

have me steal from a friend not only his life but his share of ivory

also?

Mbejane shook his head. I asked, that is all. And I have answered,

Mbejane. It is his . . . let it he.

They crossed the Magaliesberg and turned west along the mountain range.

Then, two months after they had left the Limpopo river, they reached the

Boer settlement at Louis Trichardt. Sean left MbeJane to outspan the

wagons on the open square in front of the church and he went to search

for a doctor. There was only one in the district, Sean found him in his

surgery above the general dealer's store and took him to the wagons.

Sean carried his bag for him and the doctor, a grey-beard and unused to

such hardships, trotted to keep up with Sean. He was panting and

pouring sweat by the time they arrived. Sean waited outside while the

doctor completed his examination and when he finally made his descent

from the wagon Sean fell on him impatiently. What do you think, man? I

think, meneer, that you should give hourly thanks to your Maker. The

doctor shook his head in amazement. It seems hardly possible that your

wife could have survived both the fever and the loss of the childShe is

safe then, there's no chance of a relapse? Sean asked.

She is safe now . . . but she is still a very sick woman.