Snake Water by Alan Williams

Author:Alan Williams [Williams, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2020-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

They awoke at five, had breakfast and packed up the tents while it was just growing light. Ben had a bad moment while Hitzi Leiter was loading his mule, but the German noticed nothing wrong. As Ben climbed on to his own mule, Mel gave him a quick wink and smiled. He thought with relief: Whatever else is wrong with her, she’s at least on my side.

They set off again through the black canyon, winding slowly downward, with the rock walls growing higher, closing out all view of what lay ahead. Then suddenly, after more than five hours, it ended. The wind dropped and they walked out again into sunlight onto the top of a vast slope of cinders that plunged down to the desert.

At first the glare was so strong that all they could make out below was a diffuse yellow fog stretching away on all sides to meet the sun; and Ben understood now what had stopped the Conquistadores here — those bold men, who still believed the earth was flat, coming out on to this high platform and looking down into the void. To them it must have been the edge of the world, as endless and empty as the sky.

The mules started down the slope, their hooves slithering dangerously on the cinders; they had only gone a few feet when the heat hit them from below — a dry blast like that from an oven — and Ryderbeit yelled over his shoulder: ‘Get back! Back, Mel! It’s no good — we’d roast down there!’ The guide had already leaped down and was dragging his mule up into the shelter of the canyon. ‘We’ll have to wait till sundown,’ Ryderbeit called, looking over at Hitzi Leiter: ‘That right, Hitzi?’

The German nodded. ‘It’s very hot down there,’ he said woodenly, and Ben noticed that his face was still very bruised and swollen, a greenish mauve now that gave him a grotesque look behind the yellow snow goggles.

‘We’ll stop in the shade and rest a few hours,’ said Ryderbeit, already wheezing with the heat. He took the whisky bottle from his pocket and passed around the little that was left in it, offering it to Hitzi Leiter, who again refused. ‘What’s the matter, Hitzi — don’t you drink? I thought all Krauts drank?’

‘I don’t like it,’ Hitzi said, and Ben had another nasty moment as the German began unloading his rucksack from the pack mule. He didn’t touch the ammunition pockets. Ryderbeit swallowed the last of the Scotch and hurled the bottle far out over the slope, listening to the clink and purr of cinders, then went over and fetched another from the crate, together with a cigar, and lay down against the rock with the felt sombrero over his eyes.

Above the slope the wind had fallen to a steady tepid breeze. They had stripped off their heavy clothing, tied the mules up in a circle, and while Mel prepared the meal, Ben boiled a mug of water and shaved.

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