Free Echoes From a Distant Land by Frank Coates Page B

other day, my boy?’
    Sam looked at him, puzzled. ‘I am not sure what day you are meaning.’
    â€˜I mean, you saved Henry Leland a whole lot of worry, is what you did.’
    â€˜Who is Henry Leland?’
    â€˜A master mechanic and founder of the Cadillac Automobile Company.’ Ira smiled at Sam’s confusion. ‘If you hadn’t so courageously flung yourself on that lioness, I wouldn’t be here, and Henry Leland wouldn’t be getting my new electric self-starter for his next model.’
    He took another draw on his panatela, and blew a stream of smoke onto the glowing tip. He glanced again at Sam. ‘Oh, I know, I’m not making much sense to you,’ he said. ‘Nor me. I’ve become quite soppy over these last couple of days. An experience like that one with the lioness, well … when you face death, it makes a man reflect upon his past life. Not that the crankless car saved the world from anything, but it did make me a lot of money, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I’m no genius, just an electrical engineer who had the great good fortune of getting an education and applying it to make money. Anyone could do what I’ve done if they had the start I was lucky enough to get.’
    He explained to Sam that he was the son of a miner, a poor man whose only assistance to his son was an introduction to the foreman at the asbestos mine in Vermont. Ira worked in the mines from the age of twelve. Eight years later, a distant uncle who owned a New York clothing business died and left his father a small inheritance, which he used in part to send Ira, his only child, to college. Ira tookyears to catch up but eventually graduated and found success in the motor vehicle industry. His invention of the electric self-starter for Cadillac made him a wealthy man. He said that if the USA went to war, as appeared likely, he’d make a fortune.
    â€˜So, I’ve been thinking it’s about time I gave something back.’
    He looked at Sam, who appeared completely bewildered by his ramblings.
    â€˜Yes … It’s about time I gave something back.’
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    That night, Ira awoke to a strange sound. He listened in the dark. He thought it was perhaps a small tree inhabitant calling its mate — there had been a number of small furry creatures sheltering in the branches before dashing down to steal a morsel from the camp table, or scampering fleetingly into sight among the foliage. But after he became fully awake, he realised it came from Sam’s stretcher-bed, and that it was the sound of Sam’s teeth chattering.
    Ira rushed to him and felt his pulse. It was racing, and his brow was hot and lathered in perspiration.
    â€˜Sam,’ he whispered, but the young man only gave a low moan by way of reply.
    When he stood to call the tent boy to bring water, Sam vomited.
    That night began the worst days of Ketterman’s life. Sam was mortally ill and Ira suffered dreadfully from feelings of utter helplessness: he could do no more than tend to Sam’s comfort. He piled on blankets when he shivered. When he sweated, Ira pulled them off and sponged his feverish body to reduce his temperature. At times Ira didn’t know what was needed and sat wringing his hands and weeping in frustration.
    Even from the depths of his delirium, Sam reacted to his body’s trauma.
    â€˜No! No!’ he cried on one occasion, as Ira drenched him with cooling water. Then he flung his arms around, sobbing and muttering incomprehensibly.
    Although Ira had abandoned his God, he dropped his face into his hands and begged for divine intervention.
    Sam was losing his battle and Ira felt he would lose a love beyond all knowing.
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    Sam existed in a timeless, bewildering world. He stumbled through the searing heat of the Great Rift Valley with a raging thirst. A tiny figure stood on the escarpment. Somehow, Sam knew it was his grandfather and he called to