Free The Shangani Patrol by John Wilcox Page B

snakes, see.’
     
    She kissed him. ‘I don’t know how many times I have had to thank you for saving my husband’s life, 352,’ she said. ‘But this surely must have been the closest thing. My word, it must.’ She turned towards Fonthill. ‘I heard you shout, Simon, and immediately ran for Mzingeli, who of course had the only other gun. Then I saw dear old 352 coming down the hill.’
     
    Mzingeli coughed and nodded towards Jenkins. ‘I want to go in because is my gun - only one outside hut - but he say no. He best shot. I think he right.’
     
    Fonthill shook his head again. ‘Right. Let’s clear up inside and get rid of what’s left of the brute. Three five two, get yourself a whisky. You are relieved of duty for at least ten minutes. Then we must all talk.’
     
    Later, the six of them squatted on the beaten earth outside the hut. ‘Now,’ began Fonthill, ‘I want to ask you something, Mzingeli. Could that snake have crawled in through the doorway of the hut on its own?’
     
    The tracker shook his head. ‘No. Snake don’t like people, although it will attack when people come close.’ He gestured with his arm. ‘Too many people here. Snake never live in village. Out in woods and stony holes. Not here.’
     
    ‘That’s what I thought.’
     
    ‘What?’ asked Alice. ‘You don’t think it was planted, Simon, do you?’
     
    ‘I don’t know.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ He was back within a minute. ‘As I thought, someone has cut a hole in the wickerwork at the back of the hut and closed the gap with a large stone. The snake was obviously slipped though the hole. The noise outside the entrance would probably have stopped it from escaping that way. By the time I got inside, it was a rather angry snake, I would say.’ He turned to Mzingeli. ‘Did you or either of the boys see anybody approaching, perhaps, say, carrying a sack?’
     
    The question was translated but received no affirmative reply.
     
    Fonthill frowned. It had to be de Sousa. The bastard! He looked ruefully at Alice. ‘You were right. I must have upset him. Must be very sensitive people, these Portuguese. What a nasty piece of work!’
     
    ‘What are you goin’ to do about ’im, then, bach sir?’ enquired Jenkins in a low voice. ‘Let me nip over with me knife to where’e lies on ’is fancy bed, like.’
     
    Fonthill shook his head. ‘No. The king obviously respects the man for some reason. I certainly don’t want to have blood on my hands while I am in his kraal - and neither did de Sousa, for that matter. That’s why he used the snake. A very African way to kill a European, don’t you think? He wouldn’t have been suspected.’
     
    He mused for a moment. ‘I think I will let the matter rest.’
     
    Jenkins’s black eyebrows almost met his moustache. ‘You don’t mean lettin’ ’im get away with it? ’E will just try again, won’t ’e - an’ keep tryin’ till he gets you.’
     
    ‘He might, but that’s a risk we just have to take.’ He looked at them all in turn, resting his eyes last on his wife. ‘We must all be on our guard.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Anyway, we shall be getting out of here soon, when our transport arrives. I would give it only a few days now. It’s not far from the frontier.’
     
    ‘Yes,’ said Alice glumly. ‘And I have become the Royal Physician. I must get my bag and bone up on gout, or whatever it is that’s wrong with the old boy.’ Her face fell further. ‘What if it’s syphilis, or something like that? I shall be a bit stumped then. What the hell would Florence Nightingale have done?’ She rose to get her bag, then, at the hut opening, paused for just a moment.
     
    ‘Let me go first,’ said Fonthill hurriedly. ‘I’m sure there is not another one in there. But if there is, don’t worry. I can fight snakes single-handedly now. Just give me a blanket. Oh . . . and perhaps Jenkins with a rifle.’
     
    With a grin, he