Caroline opened her mouth, closed it, and did as she was told. Bob Baxter claimed Cowper’s attention; Rod noticed that he looked very upset. “Grant? You ordered all the women up to the cave?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry but Carmen can’t.”
“You’ll have to carry her. She is the one I had most on my mind when I decided on the move.
“But” Baxter stopped and urged Grant away from the others. He spoke insistently but quietly. Grant shook his head.
“It’s not safe, Grant,” Baxter went on, raising his voice. “I don’t dare risk it. The interval is nineteen minutes now.
“Well. . . all right. Leave a couple of women with her. Use Caroline, will you? That’ll keep her out of my hair.”
“Okay.” Baxter hurried away.
Kennedy took the first watch with a dozen men spread out along the fire line; Rod was on the second watch commanded by Cliff Pawley. He went to the Baxter house to find out how Carmen was doing, was told to beat it by Agnes. He then went to the bachelors’ shed and tried to sleep.
He was awakened by yells, in time to see one of the leonine monsters at least five meters long go bounding through the camp and disappear downstream. It had jumped the barrier, the stakes behind it, and the fire behind that, all in one leap.
Rod called out, “Anybody hurt?”
Shorty Dumont answered. “No. It didn’t even stop to wave.” Shorty was bleeding from a slash in his left calf; he seemed unaware of it. Rod crawled back inside tried again to sleep.
He was awakened again by the building shaking. He hurried out. “What’s up?”
“That you, Rod? I didn’t know anybody was inside. Give me a hand; we’re going to burn it.” The voice was Baxter’s; he was prying at a corner post and cutting rawhide strips that held it.
Rod put his spear where it would not be stepped on, re-sheathed Colonel Bowie, and started to help. The building was bamboo and leaves, with a mudandthatch roof; most of it would burn. “How’s Carmen?”
“Okay. Normal progress. I can do more good here. Besides they don’t want me.” Baxter brought the corner of the shed down with a crash, gathered a double armful of wreckage and hurried away. Rod picked up a load and followed him.
The reserve wood pile was gone; somebody was tearing the roof off the “city hall” and banging pieces on the ground to shake clay loose. The walls were sunbaked bricks, but the roof would burn. Rod came closer, saw that it was Cowper who was destroying this symbol of the sovereign community. He worked with the fury of anger. “Let me do that, Grant. Have you had any rest?”
“Huh? No.”
“Better get some. It’s going to be a long night. What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Midnight, maybe.” Fire blazed up and Cowper faced it, wiping his face with his hand. “Rod, take charge of the second watch and relieve Bill. Cliff got clawed and I sent him up.”
“Okay. Burn everything that will burn, right?”
“Everything but the roof of the Baxter house. But don’t use it up too fast; it’s got to last till morning.”
“Got it.” Rod hurried to the fire line, found Kennedy. Okay, Bill, I’ll take over Grant’s orders. Get some sleep. Anything getting through?”
‘Not much. And not far.” Kennedy’s spear was dark with blood in the firelight. “I’m not going to sleep, Rod. Find yourself a spot and help out.”
Rod shook his head. “You’re groggy. Beat it. Grant’s orders.”
“No!”
“Well. . . look, take your gang and tear down the old maids’ shack. That’ll give you a change, at least.”
“Uh all right.” Kennedy left, almost staggering. There was a lull in the onrush of animals; Rod could see none beyond the barricade. It gave him time to sort out his crew, send away those who had been on duty since sunset, send for stragglers. He delegated Doug Sanders and Mick Mahmud as firetenders, passed the word that no one else was to put fuel on the fires.
He returned from his inspection to find Bob Baxter, spear in hand, holding his place at the center of the line. Rod put a hand on his shoulder. “The medical officer doesn’t need to fight. We aren’t that bad off.”