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Badly winded, North knew that the boers would be there in a couple of seconds. He plunged into the undergrowth and forced his way through the dense vegetation as fast as he could. Very aware that he was leaving a trail any skilled tracker could follow blindfolded, he expected the boers to be on him any second. But there were no sounds of pursuit and as the minutes ticked by he began to realize that they had lost him. Halting his headlong flight, he cautiously peered over the top of the bushes. He saw the boers searching the scrub a mile or so away to the west and heaved a sigh of relief. His first concern now was to find shelter. Although still very early in the day, the sun was very hot. He looked about him and soon found one of the curious tumbles of rock, very common on the veldt. A large slab of rock formed a slight overhang on the northen side and this, together with the screening thorn- bushes, offered an ideal place for him to rest and take stock. After first making sure that no other creature was already in residence, he crawled gratefully into the shade.
Naked and with no horse, food or water, North knew that he'd not stand much chance of getting across the veldt alive. So he'd have to try to stop the boers killing a trainload of soldiers himself. He'd
even have to rescue the youngster and that tight-arsed sergeant. Not that he'd be so tight-arsed, he thought with a grin, after Kotze had finished with him. He reached for the rifle and what he found wiped the grin from his face. Two bullets, only two fucking bullets.
Flint and Birch stood in the hot sunshine watching the boers ranging further and further afield in their search for North. Kotze appeared outwardly calm but he couldn't keep still and he was sweating heavily. Birch was surreptitiously loosening the rope binding his wrists behind him. He'd managed to untie one knot but it was slow work. He turned to glance at Flint and his eyes dropped to the man's huge cock. The sergeant caught the directioon of his gaze and grinned. He blushed and looking away, saw that the young afrikaaner Lang had quietly joined them. His very pale face was bruised and swollen. He had recovered his clothes and was again neatly dressed. But he hadn't found his drawers Birch thought with amazement as he noticed the large prominent bulge in his trousers. Then he recalled Lang's screams and pleas for mercy during the night, and sobered instantly. Suddenly Kotze grabbed his pistol and fired into the air. As the sound of the shot reverberated over the silent veldt he waved and yelled, "That's enough, come back. We've got to get down to the bridge.
Lying in his lair, North heard the shot and also knew that it was time to move.
Chapter 6
North lay in the scrub and watched the men standing before the steep tree-clad embakment that carried the railway line up onto the long wooden trestle bridge. He could hear the distant roar of the falls. The lean young man produced some items of equipment from his saddlebags and as Kotze hunkered down beside him, North recognised a detonator and what he took to be yards and yards of fuse. He aimed the rifle at Kotze but his target stood up and moved away. Lang got up too and North saw that he had headphones slung loosely around his neck and held a wide belt in his left hand.He watched Lang approach the nearby telegraph pole and with the aid of the belt begin to work his way up. He made a perfect target and when he reached the top, North put a bullet neatly between his shoulder blades. Without waiting to see Lang fall, he quickly sought his next target. But everything was a blur of movement and he lost valuable seconds trying to get Kotze in his sights. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the men running for his horse and brought his rifle round. Then, there in his sights was another of the boers. Without hesitation he fired and blood fountained from the man's chest as he fell. North flung the rifle away and dived back into the undergrowth. As he crashed through the bushes, a mounted boer appeared on his right. Frantically he ducked to the left and into the path of another man who opened fire.
For a second after Lang had been shot and tumbled from the telegraph pole everyone had stood stock still in shock. But recovering fast, Kotze had sprung towards the two remaining prisoners and was safely behind them before Wessels went down. Flint winced as Kotze jabbed his pistol into his sore back, and a few moments later there was a volley of shots. Flint's heart sank as the two boers in the scrub whooped with delight. "Oh my God, Sarge, they've got North," Birch whispered and as he turned his stricken face towards him, Flint saw the glimmer of tears.
The two boers moment of elation was brief and by the time they dismounnted in front of Kotze their expressions were grim. "We put six bullets in him, pity we didn't do it sooner."
"Ja" this companion added, "The bastard's really fucked things up. What the hell are we going to do?"
"You Myburg, are going to tie these two bastards to this tree and me and Malan here are going to get the dynamite onto the bridge. When this is over, we'll fuck their arses red raw before we chuck them into the gorge to join their khaki mates."
The last knot finally gave way and Birch got his wrists free of the rope securing them to the tree. It was past noon and the heat was fierce. Myburg was dozing in the shade of a nearby tree, his back propped against its thick trunk. As the young trooper worked, as quickly as possible with his numb fingers, to free the sergeant's wrists, Flint suddenly yelled, "Behind you lad, look out." Birch spun round just as Myburg came at him with a knife. Flint struggled frantically to finish untying himself as the boer lunged at Birch and missed. Birch struck out, but Myburg dodged the blow easily and lunged again. The trooper danced out of danger and Flint broke free. But as he stepped forward, Birch made a grab for the knife, missed and Myburg drove it, up to the hilt into chest. With s roar of rage, Flint flung himself onto Myburg and they crashed to the ground. The boer lashed out with the knife, red with Birch's blood, and slashed Flint's forearm. Ignoring the pain, Flint grabbed Myburg's wrist in a vice-like grip and wrapped his free arm around the boer's neck. Myburg twisted and kicked futilely as the life was slowly crushed out of him and was already dead when Flint snapped his neck. Getting to his feet, Flint felt a wave of grief threatening to engulf him. But this isn't the time, he thought, as he looked at the embankment before him. There would be time to grieve later. He brushed the tears from his cheeks with a hairy wrist, and without looking back, headed towards the embankment.
The climb was very steep and Flint had to use the trunks of trees and the tough thornbushes to haul himself upwards. With sweat pouring from him and bleeding from a score of deep scatches, he reached the top and saw Malan standing on his left, facing down the track. He looked to his right out across the bridge but there was no sign of Kotze. As he sprung forward the boer spun round and swung the rifle butt at his head. The blow sent Flint staggering backwards and Malan thrust the rifle again at his head. The blow struck Flint's forehead and he dropped to one knee, blood dripping from his brows. Malan feinted with the rifle and, as Flint's arms came up to ward off the blow, swung his boot hard into soldier's big balls. Flint gave a loud grunt and went down onto his back. Malan stood over him sneering, with the rifle poised. "I'm going to pound those big fucking donkey balls into schnitzl meat." When Flint tried to rise Malan again struck him on the side of the head. The naked soldier fell back and the boer stamped down hard on his groin. Flint pulled up his knees and rolled unto his side. Ducking his head and taking the next rifle blow on his shoulders he grabbed the boer's legs and yanked. Malan felt himself falling but flinging out his free arm he managed to save himself.
He quickly righted himself but Flint was already up and ready for him. The boer lashed out again but Flint ducked under the swinging rifle and drove his fist into Malan's belly with enough force to lift to lift him off the ground. The boer doubled-up and stumbled back perilously close to the embankment's edge. Then Flint's huge fist struck his chin, lifting him up and pitching him out into thin air. Malan's scream ceased abruptly when his falling body struck the first of many trees on its way down to the veldt below.
Flint dropped to his knees, badly winded, and sucked in huge mouthfuls of air as his spinning head steadied. Suddenly he heard a voice and whirled round to see Kotze standing on the track, the detontor, trailing yards of fuse, under one arm and a pistrol in his free hand. He launched himself at
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