It is not fittingl Mbejane demurred.

Drink Mbejane drank, wiped the mouth of the bottle carefully on his

blanket and handed it back. Duff took another swallow and offered it

again but Mbejane shook his head.

A little of that is strength, too much is weakness.

There is work to do now Duff corked the bottle.

How long before we reach him? asked Mbejane. Another day, maybe two. A

man can die in two days, mused the Zulu. Not one with a body like a

bull and a temper like a devil, Duff assured him. Mbejane smiled and

Duff went on groping for his words in Zulu.

"You love him, Mbejane? Love is a woman's word Mbejane inspected one of

his thumbs; the nail was torn loose, standing up like a tombstone; he

took it between his teeth, pulled it off and spat it onto the floor of

the drive. Duff shuddered as he watched. Those baboons will not work

unless they are driven. Mbejane stood up. Are you rested? Yes, lied

Duff, and they went back to the face.

Sean lay in the mud with his head on the hard pillow of the helmet. The

darkness was as solid as the rock around him. He tried to imagine where

the one ended and the other began, by doing that he could stop himself

feeling his thirst so strongly. He could hear the ring of hammer on

stone and the rattle of rock falling free but it never seemed to come

any closer. The whole side of his body was stiff and sore but he could

not turn over, his knees caught on the cocopan every time he tried and

the air in his little cave was starting to taste stale, his head ached.

He moved again, restlessly, and his hand brushed the small pile of

sovereigns. He struck at them, scattering them into the mud. They were

the bait that had led him into this trap. Now he would give them, and

all the millions. of others, for just the feel of the wind in his beard

and the sun in his face. The darkness clung to him, thick and cloying

as black treacle; it seemed to fill his nose, his throat and eyes,

smothering him. He groped and found the matchbox. For a few seconds of

light he would burn up most of the precious oxygen in his cave and call

It fair exchange, but the box was sodden. He struck match after match

but the wet heads crumbled without a spark and he threw them away and

clenched his eyelids to keep the darkness out. Bright colours formed in

front of his closed eyes, moving and rearranging themselves until

suddenly and very clearly they formed a picture of Garrick's face.

He hadn't thought about his family for months, he had been too busy

reaping the golden harvest, but now memories crowded back. There were

so many things he had forgotten. Everything else had become unimportant

when compared with power and gold, even lives, men's lives, had meant

nothing. But now it was his own life, teetering on the edge of the

black cliff.

The sound of the sledge-hammers broke into his thoughts again. There

were men on the other side of the blocked tunnel trying to save him,

working their way into the treacherous rock pile which might collapse

again at any minute. People were more valuable than the poisonous

metal, the little gold discs that lay smugly beside him in the mud while

men struggled to save him.

He thought of Garry, crippled by his careless shotgun, father to the

bastard he had sired, of Ada whom he had left without a word of goodbye,

of Karl Lochtkamper with the pistol in his hand and half his head

splattered across the floor of his bedroom, of other nameless men dead

or broken because of him.

Sean ran his tongue across his lips and listened to the hammers; he was

certain they were nearer now. If I get out of here, it'll be different.

I swear it Mbejane rested for four hours in the next thirty-six. Duff

watched the flesh melt off him in sweat. He was killing himself, Duff

was worn out; he could no longer work with his hands but he was

directing the teams who were shoring up the reclaimed tunnel. By the

second evening they had cleared a hundred feet of the drive. Duff paced

it out and when he reached the face he spoke to Mbejane. How long since

you last signalled to him?

Mbejane stepped back with a sledge-hammer in his tattered hands; its

shaft was sticky and brown with blood. An hour ago and even then it

sounded as though there were but the length of a spear between us. Duff

took a crowbar from one of the other natives and tapped the rock. The

answer came immediately, He's hitting something made of iron, Duff said.

It sounds as though he's only a few feet away. Mbejane, let these other

men take over. If you wish you can stay and watch but you must rest

again now. For answer Mbejane lifted the hammer and swung it against

the face. The rock he hit cracked and two of the natives stepped up and

levered it loose with their crowbars. At the back of the hole it left

in the wall they could see the corner of the cocopan. Everyone stared

at it, then Duff shouted. Sean, Sean, can you hear me? Stop talking

and get me out of here. Sean's voice was hoarse with thirst and dust,

and muffled by the rock. He's under the cocopan. It's him. Nkosi, are

you all rightVWe've found him. The shouts were picked up by the men

working behind them in the drive and passed back to those waiting at the

lift station. They've found him, he's all'right, they've found him.

Duff and Mbejane jumped forward together, their exhaustion completely

forgotten. They cleared the last few lumps of rock and with their

shoulders touching knelt and peered under the cocopan. Nkosi, I see

you. I see you also, Mbejane, what took you so long?

Nkosi, there were a few small stones in the way. Mbejane reached under

the cocopan and with his hands under Sean's armpits pulled him out.

What a hell of a place you chose to go to ground in, laddie. How are

you feeling? Give me some water and I'll be all right Water, bring

water, shouted Duff.

Sean gulped it, trying to drink the whole mug in one mouthful. He

coughed and it shot out of his nose. Easy, laddie, easy. Duff thumped

his back. Sean drank the next mugful more slowly and finished panting

from the effort. That was good. Come on, we've got a doctor waiting up

on top. Duff draped a blanket over his shoulders. Mbejane picked Sean

up across his chest. Put me down, damn you, I haven't forgotten how to

walk. Mbejane set him down gently, but his legs buckled like those of a

man just out of bed from a long illness and he clutched at Mbejane's

arm. Mbejane picked him up again and carried him down to the lift

station. They rode up in the skip into the open. The moon's shining.

And the stars, my God, they're beautiful. There was wonder in Sean's