FROM THE BLACK NOTEBOOK
203
seiged. The Matabele approach, in all their horrid finery. We are out–
numbered. Besides, we are not, so I am told? a warlike folk, only
simple people dedicated to the
arts
of peace, and the Matabele always
win. We know, we men, that we will die a painful death in a few
moments. You lucky women, however, Anna and Maryrose, will
merely be dragged off by new masters in the superior tribe of the
altogether more warlike and virile Matabele."
"They would kill themselves first," said Jimmy. "Wouldn't you,
Anna? Wouldn't you, Maryrose?"
"Of course," said Maryrose, good-humored.
"Of course," I said.
The pigeon cooed on. It was visible, a small, shapely bird, dark
against the sky. Paul took up the rifle, aimed and shot. The bird fell,
turning over and over with loose wings, and hit earth with a thud
we could hear from where we sat. "We need a dog," said Paul. He
expected Jimmy to leap up and fetch it. Although we could see Jimmy
struggling with himself, he in fact got up, walked across to the sister
clump of trees, retrieved the now graceless corpse, flung
it
at Paul's
feet, and sat down again. The small walk in the sun had flushed him,
and caused great patches to appear on his shirt. He pulled
it
off.
His torso, naked, was pale, fattish, almost childish. "That's better,"
he said, defiantly, knowing we were looking at him, and probably
critically.
The trees were now silent. "One pigeon," said Paul. "A tooth–
some mouthful for our host."
From trees far away came the sound of pigeons cooing, a mur–
muring gentle sound. "Patience," said Paul. He rested his rifle again
and smoked.
Meanwhile, Willi was reading. Maryrose lay on her back, her
soft gold head on a tuft of grass, her eyes closed. Jimmy had found
a new amusement. Between isolated tufts of grass was a clear trickle
of sand where water had coursed, probably last night in the storm.
It was a miniature riverbed, about two feet wide, already bone dry
from the morning's sun. And on the white sand were a dozen round
shallow depressions, but irregularly spaced and of different sizes.
Jimmy had a fine strong grass-stem, and, lying on his stomach, was
wriggling the stem around the bottom of one of the larger depressions.
