The sounds of his ranting fury gradually diminished as he retreated into the forest and Sepoo lowered his bow and turned to his wife. I haven't enjoyed myself so much since the day Pirri fell into his own trap on top of the buffalo that was already in the pit! he guffawed.
But he described you well, my lovely wife. Pamba ignored him and went to where Daniel Armstrong lay unconscious, half buried in dirt and dead leaves.
She knelt beside him and examined him quickly but thoroughly, plucking the ants from the corners of his eyes and his nostrils. I will have to work hard to save him for Karl-Ki, she said as she reached into her medicine bag.
If I lose this one, I don't know where I will find another one for her.
While Pamba ministered to Daniel, Sepoo built a hut over him where he lay and then lit a little fire to disperse the mosquitoes and the humidity.
He squatted in the doorway and watched his wife work.
She was the most skilled medicine woman of all the Bambuti, and her fingers were swift and dextrous as she cleaned the wound in the wazungu's back and applied a poultice of mashed and boiled roots and leaves. Then she forced him to drink copious quantities of a hot infusion of herbs that would bind his bowels and replace the fluid that his body had shed.
She crooned and muttered encouragement to the unconscious man as she worked, her bare dugs swinging wrinkled and empty as a pair of leather tobacco pouches from her bony chest and her necklace of ivory and beads clicking each time she moved.
Within three hours Daniel had regained consciousness. He looked up dazedly at the two little old people crouched over him in the smoky hut and asked in Swahili, Who are you? I am Sepoo, said the man. A famous hunter and a renowned sage of the Bambuti. And I am Pamba, the wife of the greatest liar in all the forest of Ubomo, said the woman, and cackled with laughter.
By the next morning Daniel's diarrhea had dried up and he could eat a little of the stew of monkey meat and herbs that Pamba had prepared for him. By the following morning the infection of the wound in his back had abated and he was strong enough to begin the journey to Gondola.
Daniel went slowly at first, using a staff to steady himself, for his legs were still wobbly and his head seemed to be filled with wool and floating clear of his shoulders. Pamba kept him company, leading him at a gentle pace through the forest and keeping up a constant chattering punctuated with shrieks of merry laughter, Sepoo ranged afar hunting and scavenging in the usual Bambuti manner.
Daniel had already guessed the identity of the mysterious Kara-Ki who had sent the pygmies to rescue him, but as soon as Pamba gave him an opportunity he questioned her further trying to get her to describe her patron in detail. Kara-Ki is very tall, Pamba told him, and Daniel realised that to a Bambuti everybody else in the world is very tall.
And she has a long pointed nose. All Bambuti noses were flat and broad.
Pamba's description could apply to any wazungu, so Daniel gave up and hobbled on after the little woman.
Towards dusk Sepoo suddenly appeared again from the forest with the carcass of a duiker he had killed hanging over his shoulder. That night they feasted on grilled liver and fillets.
The next morning Daniel was strong enough to discard his staff and Pamba increased the pace of the march.
They reached Gondola the following afternoon. The pygmies had given Daniel no warning that they had arrived, and as he stepped out of the forest he was presented with the dramatic view of the little community.
Its open gardens and streams, and the high snow-capped mountains forming a grand backdrop to the scene. Daniel, Kelly Kinnear greeted him as he climbed the verandah steps, and even though he had half expected it, Daniel was unprepared for his own pleasure at meeting her again. She looked fresh and vital and attractive, but he sensed a reserve in her as she came to him and shook his hand. I was so worried that Sepoo might not get to you in time. . . Then she broke off and stood back. God, you look awful. What on earth happened to you?
Thanks for the compliment, he grinned ruefully. But to answer your question, a great deal has happened to me since we last met. Come into the surgery. Let's have a look at you, before we do anything else.
Couldn't I have a bath first? I find it difficult even being near myself. She laughed. You are rather strong on the nose, but so are most of my patients. I'm used to it. She took him into the surgery and laid him on the examination table.
After she had gone over him thoroughly and inspected the wound on his back, she remarked, Pamba has done a pretty good job. I'll give you a shot of antibiotic and I'll put a fresh dressing on your back after your bath. It should have had stitches but it's too late for that now.
You'll have a new interesting scar to add to all the others. As she washed her hands in the basin, she smiled at him over her shoulder.
You look as though you've been in a fight or two. Always the other guy's fault, he assured her. Talking about fights, you never let me explain myself at our last meeting. You jumped on your motorbike before I had a chance. I know. It's my Irish blood. Can I explain now? How about a bath first?
The bathroom was a thatched hut, and the bath was a galvanised iron tub just large enough to contain him if he kept his knees up under his chin. The camp servants filled it with buckets of steaming water heated on the fire outside. There was clothing laid out for him: khaki shorts and shirt, faded and worn but clean and crisply ironed, together with a pair of rawhide sandals. one of the servants took away his stinking blood-stained shorts and muddy boots.
Kelly was waiting for him in her surgery when he had dressed. What a transformation, she greeted him. Let's fix that back. He sat on the single chair and she stood behind him. Her fingers were cool and light and quick on his skin. When she spoke he could feel her breath on the back of his neck and smell her. He liked the feel of her hands and the sweet clean smell of her breath. I didn't thank you for sending your pygmies to save my life, he said. All in the day's work. Think nothing of it. I owe you one.
I'll call on you. You were the very last person I'd have expected to find here, Daniel told her. But when Pamba described you I began to suspect who you were. How did you get into the country?
And what the hell are you doing here? If Taffari gets hold of you it will be a shooting party on the beach or a head-dress of hornets. Oh, so you're beginning to find out the truth about Ephrem Taffari, that he's not the saint and saviour you thought he was? Don't let's fight again, he pleaded. I'm still too weak to defend myself. You're as weak as a bull. Look at all that muscle.
Okay, now it's time for your shot. Lie on the bed and drop your shorts.
Hey! Can't I have it in the arm? You haven't got anything I haven't seen before. Get on the table.
Grumbling he lay face down, and lowered his shorts halfway. Nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, not bad at all, she assured him, and slid the needle home. Okay, that does it. Get dressed and come to dinner.
I've got another surprise for you.
A dinner guest, somebody you haven't seen for years. In the sunset they crossed from the clinic to Kelly's living quarters at the end of the clearing. On the way they stopped for a minute to watch the sunset turn the Mountains of the Moon to a splendour of gold and flames. I carry the memory of this beauty wherever I travel in the world, Kelly whispered. It's one of the things that draws me back. And Daniel was moved as much by her reaction to it as by the grandeur of the scene itself. To express his accord with her he wanted to take her arm and squeeze it, but he kept his distance and after a while they moved on.
There was a dinner-table laid on the verandah of Kelly's bungalow and a solitary figure seated at it, who rose as they approached. Doctor Armstrong. How good to see you again. Daniel stared at him in astonishment and then hurried forward. I heard that you were dead, Mr.