sun, then knelt.
“Trouble, friend Barrett.”
Barrett took a swig from his canteen. “Go ’way and come back with some good news. I’ve got enough trouble getting anything useful out of this old coot.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, George, but this is serious real. The men say they’re not going to go another step further.”
Barrett considered. “Do tell. What prompted this pollyanna decision?”
“Too much thinking, probably,” suggested Murin. “They’ve had a lot of time to think, these last days, about where they’re going. They all know, George, that on your last expedition only you came back alive, and that was considered a miracle.”
“Damnit, I’ve been to this country eleven times in the last five years with expeditions, and that was the first one that ever had any serious trouble. Don’t they know that, too?”
“They know it, George,” said Murin placatingly. “However, it’s the last one that didn’t come back, and that’s the one they chose to consider. There seems to be a crisis of confidence in your capabilities.”
Barrett grunted. “What are they gonna do, walk back to Nairobi? They’re sure as hell not going in my land rovers, and they won’t get paid.”
“Apparently,” continued Murin softly, “their worry outweighs the personal loss they will take. But they don’t want to desert, only to have some proof of your courage and strength. Something to restore their damaged confidence.”
“Isn’t that sweet of them. What would they like me to do? Wrestle a croc? Take on a leopard with my bare hands? Trade spit with a spitting cobra?”
“It’s rather more serious than that, I’m afraid.” Murin didn’t smile. “They want a kill-fight.”
“Pigana ua, huh?” Barrett cracked his knuckles. “Okay, if that’s what it’ll take. Who do they want me to go against?”
“It seems Kobenene has volunteered.”
“Kobenene.” Barrett nodded. “Somehow that figures. All right. Can the chief supply a couple of scorps?”
Murin nodded, then put a friendly hand on Barrett’s shoulder as the other started to rise. He eyed a puzzled Isabel, spoke in Swahili.
“George, don’t you think it might be better to pass this? I know what this woman is paying you, but really, is pigana ua worth it just for money?”
“Bite your tongue, Breeded,” Barrett snapped. “It’s worth it especially for money! Besides, I’ve got more at stake here than just shillings.”
“Your crazy theories again, friend George?”
“Yep. Anyhow, a scorpion sting isn’t fatal all that often. I like the odds.”
He stood up, handed Murin the canteen.
“Are you sure?” asked Murin. “This Kobenene has much weight on you. It’s not all fat, either.”
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” Barrett said as they I started towards the center of the corral. The cattle had been shunted aside and the dry open space would serve nicely. Delighted at the prospect of some real entertainment, the villagers would be gathering already. Laying bets, too, no doubt. Gambling was a universal human instinct.
Isabel Hardi had been quiet up to now. She’d been bursting to say something ever since she grasped the import behind Murin’s words, but had kept silent in accord with Barrett’s “one captain” orders. When it became apparent that it was far from a joke, she couldn’t restrain herself any further.
“Mr. Barrett—George—this is absolutely ridiculous!”
“Of course it is,” Barrett agreed. “It’s also absolutely necessary.”
He put on his best mock serious expression, glaring down at her, and spoke in the sepulchral tones of a Karloff, “Don’t you realize, Miss Hardi, that This Is Africa?”
She seemed genuinely upset, however. “Please don’t joke with me, Mr. Barrett. From what I gather, it’s not a joking matter.”
He halted, eyed her evenly. “No, you’re right, Izzy, it’s not. Okay, we’ll call it off, pack up, and go back to Nairobi. Is that what you
“Trouble, friend Barrett.”
Barrett took a swig from his canteen. “Go ’way and come back with some good news. I’ve got enough trouble getting anything useful out of this old coot.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, George, but this is serious real. The men say they’re not going to go another step further.”
Barrett considered. “Do tell. What prompted this pollyanna decision?”
“Too much thinking, probably,” suggested Murin. “They’ve had a lot of time to think, these last days, about where they’re going. They all know, George, that on your last expedition only you came back alive, and that was considered a miracle.”
“Damnit, I’ve been to this country eleven times in the last five years with expeditions, and that was the first one that ever had any serious trouble. Don’t they know that, too?”
“They know it, George,” said Murin placatingly. “However, it’s the last one that didn’t come back, and that’s the one they chose to consider. There seems to be a crisis of confidence in your capabilities.”
Barrett grunted. “What are they gonna do, walk back to Nairobi? They’re sure as hell not going in my land rovers, and they won’t get paid.”
“Apparently,” continued Murin softly, “their worry outweighs the personal loss they will take. But they don’t want to desert, only to have some proof of your courage and strength. Something to restore their damaged confidence.”
“Isn’t that sweet of them. What would they like me to do? Wrestle a croc? Take on a leopard with my bare hands? Trade spit with a spitting cobra?”
“It’s rather more serious than that, I’m afraid.” Murin didn’t smile. “They want a kill-fight.”
“Pigana ua, huh?” Barrett cracked his knuckles. “Okay, if that’s what it’ll take. Who do they want me to go against?”
“It seems Kobenene has volunteered.”
“Kobenene.” Barrett nodded. “Somehow that figures. All right. Can the chief supply a couple of scorps?”
Murin nodded, then put a friendly hand on Barrett’s shoulder as the other started to rise. He eyed a puzzled Isabel, spoke in Swahili.
“George, don’t you think it might be better to pass this? I know what this woman is paying you, but really, is pigana ua worth it just for money?”
“Bite your tongue, Breeded,” Barrett snapped. “It’s worth it especially for money! Besides, I’ve got more at stake here than just shillings.”
“Your crazy theories again, friend George?”
“Yep. Anyhow, a scorpion sting isn’t fatal all that often. I like the odds.”
He stood up, handed Murin the canteen.
“Are you sure?” asked Murin. “This Kobenene has much weight on you. It’s not all fat, either.”
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” Barrett said as they I started towards the center of the corral. The cattle had been shunted aside and the dry open space would serve nicely. Delighted at the prospect of some real entertainment, the villagers would be gathering already. Laying bets, too, no doubt. Gambling was a universal human instinct.
Isabel Hardi had been quiet up to now. She’d been bursting to say something ever since she grasped the import behind Murin’s words, but had kept silent in accord with Barrett’s “one captain” orders. When it became apparent that it was far from a joke, she couldn’t restrain herself any further.
“Mr. Barrett—George—this is absolutely ridiculous!”
“Of course it is,” Barrett agreed. “It’s also absolutely necessary.”
He put on his best mock serious expression, glaring down at her, and spoke in the sepulchral tones of a Karloff, “Don’t you realize, Miss Hardi, that This Is Africa?”
She seemed genuinely upset, however. “Please don’t joke with me, Mr. Barrett. From what I gather, it’s not a joking matter.”
He halted, eyed her evenly. “No, you’re right, Izzy, it’s not. Okay, we’ll call it off, pack up, and go back to Nairobi. Is that what you
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