The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 54

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glanced off a rock, his mind was clear.

"Help me upP he ordered Tamre. The boy put his shoulder under Nicholas's

armpit, where the. rope had burnt him, and hoisted him to his feet. The

two of them struggled up to the bank and on to the path, and then.

hobbled slowly across the swinging bridge.

He had hardly reached the other bank when there was a joyous shout from

close at hand.

"Nicky! Oh, dear God! You are safe." Royan ran down the path and threw

her arms around him. "I have been frantic. I thought that-' she broke

off, and held him at arms length to look at him. "Are you all right? I

was expecting to find your broken bodym---'

"You know me," he grinned at her and tried not to i limp. "Ten'feet tall

and-bullet-proof You don't get rid of Me that easily. I only did it just

to get a hug from you."

She released him hurriedly. "Don't read anything into that. I am kind to

all beaten puppies, and other dumb animals." But her smile belied the

words. "Nevertheless, it's good to have you back in one piece, Nicky."

"Where is Boris?"he asked.

"He and the trackers are searching the banks lower down the river. I

think he is looking forward to finding your corpse."

"What has he done with my dik-dik?"

ainly nothing too much the matter with

"There is cert you if you can worry about that. The skinners have taken

it down to the camp."

"Damn it to hell! I must supervise the skinning and tion of the trophy

myself. They will ruin id' He put prepara his arm around Tamre's

shoulder. "Come on, my lad! Let's see if I can break into a trot."

las knew that in this heat the carcass of icho the little antelope would

decompose swiftly, and the hair would slough from the hide if it were

not treated immediately. It was imperative to skin it out immediately.

Already it had been left too long, and the preparation of a hide for a

full body mount was a skilled and painstaking procedure.

it was already dark as they limped into the camp.

Nicholas shouted for the skinners in Arabic.

"Ya, Kif! Ya, SalinP and when they came running from living huts he

asked anxiously, "Have you begun?" their

"Not yet, effendi. We were having our dinner first."

"For once gluttony is a virtue. Do not touch the creature until I come.

While you are waiting for me, fetch one of the gas lights!" He limped to

his own hut as fast as his aches would allow. There he stripped and

anointed all his visible scrapes and abrasions with Mercurochrome, flung

on fresh dry clothes, rummaged in his bag until he found the canvas roll

which contained his knives, and hurried down to the skinning hut.

By the brilliant white glare of the butane gas lantern he had only just

completed the initial skin incisions down the inside of the dik-dik's

legs and belly when Boris pushed open the door of the hut.

"Did you have a good swim, English?"

"Bracing, thank you." Nicholas smiled. "I don't expect you want to eat

your words about my striped dik-dik, do you?" he asked mildly. "No such

bloody animal, I think you said., "It is like a rat. A true hunter would

not bother himself with such rubbish," Boris replied haughtily. "Now

that you have your rat, perhaps we can go back to Addis, English?"

"I paid you for three weeks. It is my safari. We go when I say

so,'Nicholas told him. Boris grunted and backed out of the hut.

Nicholas worked swiftly. His knives were of a special design to

facilitate the fine work, and he stropped them at regular intervals on a

ceramic sharpening rod until he could shave the hairs from his forearm

with just the lightest touch.

The legs had to be skinned out with the tiny hooves still attached.

Before he had completed this part of the work, another figure stooped

into the hut. He was dressed in a priest's shamma and headcloth, and

until he spoke Nicholas did not recognize Mek Nimmur.

"I hear that you have been looking for trouble again, Nicholas. I came

to make sure that you were still alive.

There was a rumour at the monastery that you had drowned yourself,

though I knew it was not possible. You will not die so easily."

"I hope you are right, Mek," Nicholas laughed at him.

Mek squatted opposite him. "Give me one of your knives and I will finish

the hooves. It will go quicker if I help you."

Without comment Nicholas passed him one of the knives. He knew that Mek

could skin out the hooves, for years before he had taught him the art.

With two of them working on the pelt, it would go that much faster. The

sooner the skin was off, the less chance there would be of

deterioration.

He turned his attention to the head. This was the most delicate part of

the process. The skin had to be peeled off like a glove, and the eyelids

and lips and nostrils must be worked from the inside. The ears were

perhaps the most difficult to lift away from the gristle in one piece.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, which Mek broke at

last.

"How well do you know your Russian, Boris Brusilov?" he asked.

"I met him for the first time when I stepped off the plane. He was

recommended by a friend."

"Not a very good friend." Mek looked up at him and his expression was

grim. "I came to warn you about him, Nicholas."

"I a  listening," said Nicholas quietly.

"In "85 I was captured by Mengistu's thugs. They kept me in the Karl

Marx prison camp near Addis. Brusilov was one of the interrogators

there. He was KGB in those days.

His favourite trick was to stick the pressure hose from a compressor up

the anus of the man or woman he was questioning and turn on the tap.

They blew up like a balloon, until the gut burst." He stopped speaking

while he moved around to work on the other hoof of the antelope.

"I escaped before he got around to questioning me. He retired when

Mengistu fled, and went hunting. I don't know how he persuaded Tessay to

marry him, ut knowing what I do of the man, I expect she did not have

much choice in the matter."

"Of course, I had my suspicions about him," Nicholas admitted.

They were quiet after that until Mek whispered, "I came to tell you that

I may have to kill him."

Neither of them spoke again until Mek had finished working on all four

hooves. Then he stood up. "These days, life is uncertain, Nicholas. If I

have to leave here in a hurry, and I do not have a chance to say goodbye

to you, then there is somebody in Addis who will pass a message to me if

you ever need me. His name is Colonel Maryam Kidane in the Ministry of

Defence. He is a friend. My code name is the Swallow. He will know who

you are talking about."

They embraced briefly. "Go with GodV said Mek, and left the hut quietly.

The night swallowed his robed figure and Nicholas stood for a long time

at the door, until at last he turned back to finish the work.

It was late by the time he had rubbed every inch of the skin with a

mixture of rock salt and Kabra dip to cure it and protect it from the

ravages of the bacon beetle and other insects and bacteria. At last he

laid it out on the floor of the hut with the wet side uppermost and

packed more rock salt on the raw areas.

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