"Sapper, for a moment there you were very close to death. I would have
broken your neck with my own hands." He thrust the key into the ignition
lock and turned it to the pre-heat position, waiting for the coil light
on the dashboard to turn from red to green.
"Come on!" he muttered impatiently. Those few seconds of delay seemed
like a lifetime. Then the green light flashed and he twisted the key to
start.
The engine fired at the first turn and Nicholas hooted, "Full marks,
Sapper. All is forgiven."
He gave the machine time to warm up to optimum operating temperature,
slitting his eyes against the rain as he waited and looking around at
the hills above him, fearful that the sound of the engine might bring
Nogo's gorillas swarming down on him. However, there was no sign of life
on the rainswept heights.
He eased the tractor into her lowest gear and turned her down the bank.
Below the dam wall the water that was finding its way through the gaps
was less than hub-deep.
The tractor bounced and ground its way through the boulder-strewn
watercourse. Nicholas stopped the machine in the middle of the river bed
while he studied the downstream face of the dam wall for its weakest
section.
Then he' lined up below the centre of the wall, at'the point where
Sapper had shored up the raft of logs with rows of gabions.
"Sorry for all your hard work," he apologized to Sapper, as he
manoeuvred the steel scoop of the tractor to the right height and angle
before attacking the wall. He worried the gabion he had selected out of
its niche in the row, reversing and thrusting at it until he could get
the scoop under it and drag it free. He pulled away and dropped the
heavy wire mesh basket over the waterfall, then drove back and renewed
the attack.
It was slow work. The pressure of the water had wedged in the gabions,
keying them into the wall so it took almost ten minutes to free the
second basket. As he dropped that one over the waterfall, he glanced for
the first time at the fuel gauge on the dashboard of the tractor and his
heart sank. It was registering empty. Sapper must have neglected to
refuel it: either he had exhausted the fuel supply or he had not
expected ever to use the machine again when he abandoned it.
Even as Nicholas thought about it the engine stuttered as it starved. He
reversed it sharply, changing the angle of inclination so that the
remaining fuel in the tank could slosh forward. The engine caught and
cleared, running smoothly and strongly once again. Quickly he changed
gear and ran back at the wall.
"No more time for finesse," he told himself grimly.
"From here on in it's brute force and muscle."
By removing two of the gabions he had exposed a corner of the log raft
behind them. This was the vulnerable and part of the wall. He worked the
hydraulic controls lifted the scoop to its highest travel. Then he
lowered it carefully, an inch at a time; until it hooked over the end of
the thickest log in the jam. He locked the hydraulics and thrust the
tractor into reverse, gradually pouring on full power until the engine
was roaring and blowing out a cloud of thick blue diesel smoke.
Nothing gave. The log was jammed solidly and the wall was held together
by the keying of the gabions into each other and the enormous pressure
of water behind them. Despairingly, Nicholas kept the throttle wide
open.
The lugged tyres spun and skidded on the boulders under them, throwing a
tall shower of spray high into the air and churning out loose rock and
gravel.
"Come on!" Nicholas pleaded with the machine. "Come on! You can do it."
The engine beat faltered again as she starved for fuel.
She spluttered and coughed, and almost stalled.
"Please!" Nicholas begged her aloud. "One more try." Almost as if it had
heard him, the engine fired again, ran unevenly for a few moments, and
then abruptly bellowed at full power again.
That's it, my beauty," Nicholas yelled, as it lurched hammered against
the wall.
an With a sound like a cannon shot the log snapped and the top end of it
flew out of the wall, leaving a long, deep hole through which the river
poured triumphantly, a thing -'solid column of dirty grey water.
"Thar she blows!" Nicholas shouted, jumping down from the driver's seat.
He knew there was not enough time left for him to drive the tractor out
of the river bed. He could move more quickly on his own feet.
The current seized his legs, trying to pull them out from under him. It
was like one of those childhood nightmares when monsters were pursuing
him and, despite his every effort, his legs would only move in slow
motion.
He glanced back over his shoulder, and at that instant he saw the
central section of the dam wall burst, blowing outward in a violent
eruption of furious waters. He struggled on another few paces towards
the bank before the deep and turbulent tide picked him up. He was
helpless in its grip. It swept him away, over the waterfall and down,
down into the hungry maw of the chasm.
these are the royal crook and sceptre of the Pharaoh," cried von
Schiller in a voice that was gusty and faint with emotion as he lifted
them out of the cedarwood chest.
"And this is his false beard and his ceremonial pectoral Wo, emblem."
Nahoot knelt beside him on the floor of the tomb under the great statue
of Osiris. All the ill feelings between them were forgotten in the
wonder of the moment as they examined the fabulous treasures of Egypt.
"This is the greatest archaeological discovery of all time," von
Schiller whispered, his voice tremulous. He pulled his handkerchief from
his pocket and dabbed at the perspiration of excitement that trickled
down his cheeks.
"There is years of work here," Nahoot told him seriously. "This
incredible collection will have to be catalogued and evaluated. It will
be known for ever as the von Schiller hoard. Your name will be
perpetuated for all time.
it is like the Egyptian dream of immortality. You will never be
forgotten. You will live for ever."
A rapturous expression crossed von Schiller's features.
He had not considered' that possibility. Up until this moment he had not
considered sharing this treasure with anybody, except in his particular
way with Utte Kemper, but Nahoot's words had awakened in him the old
impossible dream of eternity. Perhaps he might make arrangements for it
to be made accessible to the public - but only after his own death,
naturally.
Then he thrust the temptation aside. He would not debase this treasure
by making it available to the common rabble. It had been assembled for
the funeral of a pharaoh.
Von Schiller saw himself as the modern equivalent of a pharaoh.
"No!" he told Nahoot violently. "This is mine, all mine.
When I die it will go with me, all of it. I have made the arrangements
already, in my will. My sons know what to do. This will all be with me
in my own grave. My royal grave.
Nahoot stared at him aghast. He had not realized until that moment that
the old man was mad, that his obsessions had driven him over the edge of
sanity. But the Egyptian knew that there was no point in arguing with
him now later he would find a way to save this marvelous treasure from
the oblivion of another tomb. So he bowed his.head in mock acquiescence.
"You are right, Hell von Schiller. That is the only fitting manner to
dispose of it. You deserve that form of burial. However, our main
concern now must be to get all of it to safety. Helm has warned us about