«How far from the town?»
«About five miles, Major, maybe six. Not more.»
«Fine, fine! And you're sure you can find this cave?»
«A hundred years from now and my head in a goatskin bag!» Louki boasted.
«Fair enough!» Even as he spoke, Mallory catapulted himself violently to one side, twisted in midair to avoid falling across Stevens and crashed heavily into the wall between Andrea and Miller. In a moment of unthinking carelessness he had exposed himself to view from the ravine they had just combed: the burst of machine-gun fire from its lower end — a hundred and fifty yards away at the most — had almost blown his head off. Even as it was, the left shoulder of his jacket had been torn away, the shell just grazing his shoulder. Miller was already kneeling by his side, fingering the gash, running a gently exploratory band across his back.
«Careless, damn careless,» Mallory murmured. «But I didn't think they were so close.» He didn't feel as calm as he sounded. If the mouth of that Schineisser had been another sixteenth of an inch to the right, he'd have had no head left now.
«Are you all right, boss?» Miller was puzzled. «Did they—»
«Terrible shots,» Mallory assured him cheerfully. «Couldn't hit a barn.» He twisted round to look at his shoulder. «I hate to sound heroic, but this really is just a scratch… .» He rose easily to his feet, and picked up his gun. «Sorry and all that, gentlemen, but it's time we were on our way again. How far along is this cave, Louki?»
Louki rubbed his bristly chin, the smile suddenly gone. He looked quickly at Mallory, then away again.
«Louki!»
«Yes, yes, Major. The cave.» Louki rubbed his chin again. «Well, it is a good way along. In fact, it is at the end,» he finished uncomfortably.
«The very end?» asked Mallory quietly.
Louki nodded miserably, stared down at the ground at his feet. Even the ends of his moustache seemed to droop.
«That's handy,» Mallory said heavily. «Oh, that's very handy!» He sank down to the ground again. «Helps us no end, that does.»
He bowed his head in thought and didn't even lift it as Andrea poked a Bren round the angle of the rock, and fired a short downhill burst more in token of discouragement than in any hope of hitting anything. Another ten seconds passed, then Louki spoke again, his voice barely audible.
«I am very, very sorry. This is a terrible thing. Before God, Major, I would not have done it but that I thought they were still far behind.»
«It's not your fault, Louki.» Mallory was touched by the little man's obvious distress. He touched his ripped shoulder jacket. «I thought the same thing.»
«Please!» Stevens put his hand on Mallory's arm. «What's wrong? I don't understand.»
«Everybody else does, I'm afraid, Andy. It's very, very simple. We have half a mile to go along this valley here — and not a shred of cover. The Alpenkorps have less than two hundred yards to come up that ravine we've just left.» He paused while Andrea fired another retaliatory short burst, then continued. «They'll do what they're doing now — keep probing to see if we're still here. The minute they judge we're gone, they'll be up here in a flash. They'll nail us before we're halfway, quarter way to the cave — you know we can't travel fast. And they're carrying a couple of Spandaus — they'll cut us to ribbons.»
«I see,» Stevens murmured. «You put it all so nicely, sir.»
«Sorry, Andy, but that's how it is.»
«But could you not leave two men as a rearguard, while the rest—»
«And what happens to the rearguard?» Mallory interrupted dryly.
«I see what you mean,» he said in a low voice. «I hadn't thought of that.»
«No, but the rearguard would. Quite a problem, isn't it?»
«There is no problem at all,» Louki announced. «The Major is kind, but this is all my fault. I will—»
«You'll do damn all of the kind!» Miller said savagely. He tore Louki's Bren from his hand and laid it on the ground. «You heard what the boss said — it wasn't your fault.» For a moment Louki stared at him in anger, then turned dejectedly away. He looked as if he were going to cry. Mallory, too, stared at the American, astonished at the sudden vehemence, so completely out of character. Now that he came to think of it, Dusty had been strangely taciturn and thoughtful during the past hour or so — Mallory couldn't recall his saying a word during all that time. But time enough to worry about that later on… .
Casey Brown eased his injured leg, looking hopefully at Mallory. «Couldn't we stay here till it's dark — real dark — then make our way—»
«No good. The moon's almost full to-night — and not a cloud in the sky. They'd get us. Even more important, we have to get into the town between sunset and curfew to-night. Our last chance. Sorry, Casey, but it's no go.»
Fifteen seconds, half a minute passed, and passed in silence, then they all started abruptly as Andy Stevens spoke.
«Louki was right, you know,» he said pleasantly. The voice was weak, but filled with a calm certainty that jerked every eye towards him. He was propped up on one elbow, Louki's Bren cradled in his hands. It was a measure of their concentration on the problem on hand that no one had heard or seen him reach out for the machine-gun. «It's all very simple,» Stevens went on quietly. «Just let's use our heads, that's all… . The gangrene's right up past the knee, isn't it, sir?»
Mallory said nothing: he didn't know what to say, the complete unexpectedness had knocked him off balance. He was vaguely aware that Miller was looking at him, his eyes begging him to say «No.»
«Is it or isn't it?» There was patience, a curious understanding in the voice, and all of a sudden Mallory knew what to say.
«Yes,» he nodded. «It is.» Miller was looking at him in horror.
«Thank you, sir.» Stevens was smiling in satisfaction. «Thank you very much indeed. There's no need to point out all the advantages of my staying here.» There was an assurance in his voice no one had ever heard before. The unthinking authority of a man completely in charge of a situation. «Tune I did something for my living anyway. No fond farewells, please. Just leave me a couple of boxes of ammo, two or three thirty-six grenades and away you go.»
«I'll be damned if we will!» Miller was on his feet, making for the boy, then brought up abruptly as the Bren centered on his chest.
«One step nearer and I'll shoot you,» Stevens said calmly. Miller looked at him in long silence, sank slowly back to the ground.
«I would, you know,» Stevens assured him. «Well, good-bye, gentlemen. Thank you for all you'vу done for me.»
Twenty seconds, thirty, a whole minute passed In a queer, trance-like silence, then Miller heaved himself to his feet again, a tall, rangy figure with tattered clothes and a face curiously haggard in the gathering gloom.
«So long kid. I guess — waal, mebbe I'm not so smart after all.» He took Stevens's hand, looked down at the wasted face for a long moment, made to say something else, then changed his mind. «Be seein' you,» he said abruptly, turned and walked off heavily down the valley. One by one the others followed him, wordlessly, except for Andrea who stopped and whispered in the boy's ear, a whisper that brought a smile and a nod of complete understanding, and then there was only Mallory left. Stevens grinned up at him.
«Thank you, sir. Thanks for not letting me down. You and Andrea — you understand. You always did understand.»
«You'll — you'll be all right, Andy?» God, Mallory thought, what a stupid, what an inane thing, to say.
«Honest, sir, I'm O.K.» Stevens smiled contentedly. «No pain left — I can't feel a thing. It's wonderful!»
«Andy, I don't—»
«It's time you were gone, sir. The others will be waiting. Now if you'll just light me a gasper and fire a few random shots down that ravine.»
Within five minutes Mallory had overtaken the othera, and inside fifteen they had all reached the cave that led to the coast. For a moment they stood in the entrance, listening to the intermittent firing from the other end of the valley, then turned wordlessly and plunged into the cave. Back where they had left him, Andy Stevens was lying on his stomach, peering down into the now almost dark ravine. There was no pain left in his body, none at all. He drew deeply on a cupped cigarette, smiled as he pushed another clip home into the magazine of the Bren. For the first time in his life Andy Stevens was happy and content beyond his understanding, a man at last at peace with himself. He was no longer afraid.