Sunset at Sheba by John Harris Page B

came round in a big sweep that sent the dust flying, and stopped sharply in front of the hotel, sliding on the loose surface and quivering as the driver raced the engine. Winter recognised the long square snout and studded bonnet of Kitto’s Rolls-Royce scout car, and a few Africans, attracted by the noise and the lights, gathered immediately from nowhere and stood in the glow that came from the bar, grinning with a child-like appreciation.
    The door slammed and Kitto jumped out of the car, stamping on to the stoep where Winter sat. He had changed the smart uniform he had worn to meet Plummer and wore drill trousers now and boots and a wide-awake hat decorated with blue goggles, his Sam Browne and revolver strapped over a navy jersey, his body literally draped with the straps of his compass, binoculars, map case and other equipment.
    Romanis was with him, also in some sort of uniform, but still wearing his leather coat and cap.
    ‘Look slippy,’ Kitto said quickly, indicating the car. ‘Jump in!’
    Romanis grabbed his arm, but Winter backed away, still holding his glass. ‘Steady on,’ he said. ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Out there,’ Kitto said, indicating the broad sweep of land beyond the railway track. ‘Look slippy, they’ve dodged us. They’ve got clean away.’
    Winter got his back against the veranda, refusing to be hurried. ‘All right, all right,’ he soothed. ‘But for God’s sake just tell me what’s happening.’
    ‘They’ve been here already,’ Romanis said. ‘We found they bought stores. At a place near the station. They’re on the way to Kimberley.’
    ‘Kimberley! How do you know?’
    ‘Something they let drop in the store.’ Kitto flicked impatiently at his boot with his crop. ‘You were right. The bastard’s not to be trusted.’ His thin cheeks were sucked in with irritation. ‘He’s got a damn’ good start too,’ he concluded.
    ‘How good?’
    ‘Ten-twelve hours.’ Kitto grinned suddenly, his sharp fierce face lighting up. ‘But we’ll pick ‘em up all right,’ he said. ‘These vehicles of mine move amazin’ quick.’
    ‘It’s a good job they do,’ Romanis said. ‘There are a lot of Fabricius’ friends in Kimberley.’
    ‘And a lot of Offy’s enemies,’ Winter added.
    Kitto turned with a faint ring of triumph in his voice. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said confidently. ‘I’ll get south of ‘em in no time and set ‘em on their road again.’
    Winter stretched and yawned. ‘Offy’ll like your loyalty,’ he said.
    ‘It’s not a question of loyalty to Offy.’ Kitto was on his dignity at once, opaque in intellect and unyielding in his honesty. His face, yellowish in the light that came from the screen door, was frosty in his humourless disapproval of Winter.
    ‘We’d better get this straight here and now,’ he suggested. ‘To me, this is a military operation and nothing more. Politics don’t come into it. You can act as Offy’s jackal if you like, Winter. I don’t.’
    ‘I wish I’d got your principles, Kitto,’ Winter smiled. ‘ "What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?" ‘
    ‘I’m concerned with only one thing,’ Kitto went on. ‘And that’s my country. I was one of the men who helped pull down the Transvaal flag and I had to watch the bloody politicians in Whitehall give it all back to them. You don’t think I’m going to let a few hotheads like De Wet drag apart all we’ve built up, do you? Now let’s get going.’
    Winter shrugged, humbled by Kitto’s obsessed pride. ‘Have it your own way,’ he said, ‘but we can’t follow their tracks till daylight, surely?’
    ‘I think we can.’ Kitto sounded cheerful again. ‘I’ve got an ex-scout with my mob. Chap called Le Roux. He could follow the spoor with his nose. He can smell it in the dark. He’s out there now. And these damn’ people can’t ride a horse at sixty miles an hour.’
    ‘Good God,’ Romanis added, ‘this Schuter’s only a Sheeny backvelder! He