Bond lay and focused all his senses. What hell this controlled breathing was and how maddening the soft nibbling of the shrimps! It was lucky none of them had a sore on their bodies or the damned things would have eaten into it. But it had been a bright idea of the girl’s. Without it the dogs would have got to them wherever they had hidden.
Suddenly Bond cringed. A rubber boot had stepped on his shin and slid off. Would the man think it was a branch? Bond couldn’t chance it. With one surge of motion he hurled him self upwards, spitting out the length of bamboo.
Bond caught a quick impression of a huge body standing almost on top of him and of a swirling rifle butt. He lifted his’ left arm to protect his head and felt the jarring blow on his forearm. At the same time his right hand lunged forward and as the muzzle of his gun touched the glistening right breast below the hairless aureole he pulled the trigger.
The kick of the explosion, pent up against the man’s body, almost broke Bond’s wrist, but the man crashed back like a chopped tree into the water. Bond caught a glimpse of a huge rent in his side as he went under. The rubber waders thrashed once and the head, a Chinese Negroid head, broke the surface its eyes turned up and water pouring from its silently yelling mouth. Then the head went under again and there was nothing but muddy froth and a slowly widening red stain that began to seep away downstream.
Bond shook himself. He turned. Quarrel and the girl were standing behind him, water streaming from their bodies. Quarrel was grinning from ear to ear, but the girl’s knuckles were at her mouth and her eyes were staring horror-struck at the reddened water.
Bond said curtly, “I’m sorry, Honey. It had to be done. He was right on top of us. Come on, let’s get going.” He took her roughly by the arm and thrust her away from the place and out into the main stream, only stopping when they had reached the open river at the beginning of the mangrove tunnel.
The landscape was empty again. Bond glanced at his watch. It had stopped at three o’clock. He looked at the westering sun. It might be four o’clock now. How much farther had they to go? Bond suddenly felt tired. Now he’d torn it. Even if the shot hadn’t been heard-and it would have been well muffled, by the man’s body and by the mangroves-the man would be missed when the others rendezvoused, if Quarrel’s guess was right, at the river mouth to be taken off to the launch. Would they come back up the river to look for the missing man? Probably not. It would be getting dark before they knew for certain that he was missing. They’d send out a search party in the morning. The dogs would soon get the body. Then what?
The girl tugged at his sleeve. She said angrily, “It’s.time you told me what all this is about! Why’s everybody trying to kill each other? And who are you? I don’t believe all this story about birds. You don’t take a revolver after birds.”
Bond looked down into the angry, wide-apart eyes. “I’m sorry, Honey. I’m afraid I’ve got you into a bit of a mess. I’ll tell you all about it this evening when we get to the camp. It’s just bad luck you being mixed up with me like this. I’ve got a bit of a war on with these people. They seem to want to kill me. Now I’m only interested in seeing us all off the island without anyone else getting hurt. I’ve got enough to go on now so that next time I can come back by the front door.”
“What do you mean? Are you some sort of a policeman? Are you trying to send this Chinaman to prison?”
“That’s about it,” Bond smiled down at her. “At least you’re on the side of the angels. And now you tell me something. How much farther to the camp?”
“Oh, about an hour.”