Page 37 of Desert Barbarian

Peter shouted again, in alarm. 'Run… get back!'

Terror chilled Marie's blood. It seemed an eternity until she could reach the door, and her eyes, accustomed now to the gloom inside, had to adjust to the dazzle of sunlight before she could take in what was happening.

Stonor was on his back, wrestling helplessly with the huge animal, while Peter was gallantly slashing at its eyes with a bamboo stake. She saw wet stains of sweat spread across the back of his shirt.

She had once been shown how to fire a pistol. Instinct made her now fling up her arm, her eyes narrowing on-the tiger's head. The recoil of the shot made her deaf for a moment, then she was able to hear and see again.

The tiger had vanished. Her shot had missed, some­how, but it had frightened the beast away. The leaves swayed in the jungle, testifying to his departure. She ran down the steps and flung herself down beside Stonor. He was clasping one shoulder, a red stain spreading from beneath his fingers.

'Let me see…' she said anxiously.

'No!' His voice bit out curtly. 'Leave it alone!'

She felt hot colour run up under her skin, and drew back. Peter looked at her sympathetically. He lifted her, a hand under her elbow, and put an arm around her waist.

'Look,' he said gently, 'that tiger may come back. I can't go and leave you two alone here, and I can't let you run back to the others alone, so we'll have to help this fellow back there together. If he isn't hurt badly he may be able to walk with our help.'

Stonor ground out harshly, 'Lift me. I can walk with­out help once I'm on my feet.'

Peter gently helped him to his feet. Stonor swayed, still holding his torn shoulder. There was blood running down his arm and along the side of his ripped shirt now.

'Here, take my arm,' said Peter.

Stonor drew back, frowning. 'I'm all right.' He began to walk steadily, with that upright loping pace which was so characteristic of him, and Peter, giving her a wry grimace, followed him. Marie came after them more slowly, her mind in confusion.

What was Stonor doing here? Had he been looking for her? She looked at his straight, graceful back, the dark hair ruffled by the fight, the broad powerful shoul­ders held tensely in pain. Of course he must have been here looking for her. Hadn't she known, all the time, inwardly that he would come? When Peter arrived sud­denly unannounced, hadn't she thought it was Stonor? She had known that sooner or later Stonor would turn up.

'What on earth were you doing strolling through the jungle in that light-hearted fashion, anyway?' Peter was asking him. 'I was staggered when I saw you. Where did you spring from?'

'Lhalli,' Stonor said grimly.

'What's your name? I'm Peter Davidson, by the way. I'm with the British archaeological expedition in Jedh­pur.' He looked back at Marie. 'This is Miss…'

'I know,' Stonor interrupted in that curt fashion. Was he in much pain? Marie wondered anxiously.

Peter looked from one to the other of them, his brows raised. 'Oh, you know each other.'

'My name is Grey,' Stonor told him.

'Friend of Miss Brinton?'

'We've met,' said Stonor.

Peter was baffled, glancing back enquiringly at her, as if to ask her what he was to make of this laconic, tight-lipped stranger. But she glanced away without revealing anything.

'Are you an artist like Mrs Cunningham?' Peter asked, struck by a sudden thought.

'No.'

Peter glanced back at Marie again, then shrugged, see­ing that he would get no help from her in his inter­rogation. They came out beside the river. At their abrupt arrival a gaggle of white egrets made a hawking sound of rage and vanished from their fishing in the shallows of the waterpool below the stilt hut. A peacock stalking on the far bank rattled with irritation at them. Far along the river bank came the loud splash as a mugger slid down the mud into the water, his wicked little eyes blinking above his long snout. As if it had been some sort of signal the other muggers basking on the bank in the sun, for all the world like a row of grey-brown logs, came to life and slid down after him, making a series of splashes which awoke the monkeys in the tree tops and sent them chat­tering and swinging across the jungle.

From the stilt hut they saw faces peering crossly at them. Then heard an exclamation of alarm. Soon Jess, Grant Williams and Jeremy had descended to them to investigate, having seen the blood on Stonor's shirt.

A few moments later Rahaib came swinging through the jungle at an easy pace carrying a woven basket of eggs and some goat's milk in a wide-lipped jug.

Calmly, despite Stonor's displeasure, he made him take away his hand from the mauled shoulder, frowning over what he saw. Stonor had turned so that Marie should not see his wound, but she saw Rahaib's face, and knew at once that it was far more serious than Stonor had been prepared to admit.

Soon Stonor was in the Land-Rover being driven back to Lhalli by Rahaib. He had arrived in a small, battered Mini which, he said, he had hired in the city. Grant Wil­liams promised to drive it back to its owner for him. Jess accompanied him, and Peter drove Marie and Jeremy back to the bungalow.

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