Harkaway's Sixth Column Read Online Free PDF Page B

navels.’
    Yussuf smiled but offered nothing in return, and, glancing again at the others, Harkaway went on briskly.
    ‘Tell your chief we have guns to sell,’ he said.
    Gooch and Tully glanced at each other. Harkaway was a private sort of person and they never knew what he was thinking - usually because he was way ahead of them - but this was unexpected.
    ‘Life’s hard,’ Harkaway went on. ‘Not much meat. Goats and sheep hard to come by.’ His arm swept the desert. ‘Buck out there. Dik-dik and gerenuk. Even some kudu in the hills. Good eating but hard to catch. Run fast. Faster than a man can run. Further than he can throw spear. Gun stop them. Gun powerful.’
    Yussuf smiled. ‘Where are these guns? You take us to them?’
    ‘No.’ Harkaway smiled back. ‘We bring them to you.’
     
    Harkaway didn’t bother to explain his impulsive offer and no one attempted to ask him. It had always been assumed that Harkaway was the brains of the group and it was an indication of his potential that they didn’t argue.
    The following day, when they headed down to Eil Dif, hidden beneath the water skins in the back of the lorry were three of the ancient Martinis.
    ‘We show you.’ Harkaway gestured at Tully as the tribesmen appeared, watching warily. ‘Set up a target, Paddy.’
    Tully walked away from the village and placed a bully beef tin they had brought with them on a small boulder. Harkaway lay down on the sand and took aim. As the crack of the shot echoed in the ruins of the old houses behind them the can jumped into the air to land on the earth with a puff of dust.
    ‘Your people throw a spear that far?’ he asked.
    The men behind him were silent, leaning forward on their spears, covetously watching the rifle, their eyes glinting with menace.
    ‘You show?’ Yussuf indicated the young men. ‘Sure.’ Harkaway picked a tall young Somali with a lean, intelligent face and handed him the rifle. The Somali backed away but between them Harkaway and Yussuf got him on the ground with the rifle to his shoulder.
    The can was set up again, the sights were explained and the Somali fired. The can remained where it was.
    ‘He yanked at the trigger,’ Gooch said. ‘He didn’t squeeze.’
    Harkaway took the young tribesman to one side. ‘What him name him?’ he asked Yussuf.
    ‘He Abdillahi. He speak small-small English. He fireman one-time, like me. One year. Me many.’
    ‘Right. You tell Abdillahi.’ Harkaway took the rifle and demonstrated. ‘Butt well into the shoulder and up against the cheek. Left hand well down the barrel. Right hand holding the narrow part of the stock. Then you squeeze the trigger. Once for the first pressure. Then again for the second. Tell him to try it again.’
    Yussuf explained carefully, his thin black hands fluttering over the rifle as the young Somali held it. This time, though the can didn’t jump, the bullet threw up a puff of dust only a few feet to the right.
    ‘Better,’ Harkaway said. ‘Go over it again.’
    The Somali’s third shot came within a foot of the can.
    ‘Near enough to bring down a buck. And he could do better if he were closer.’ Harkaway went to great lengths to explain the use of the sights. ‘You’ll need some ammunition to practise with, of course. Nobody can shoot without practice.’ He held out a sack containing cartridges. ‘Much as you like. Fire a few off. Two days from now you’ll be bringing buck down like clay pipes at a fair.’
    Yussuf went into a huddle with the old chief and several of the young men. Behind them the women of the village stood in a small group, chattering in shrill voices. Then the ex-fireman turned round.
    ‘How many women you want in exchange, effendi?’
    Tully licked his lips but Harkaway shook his head.
    ‘Not women. Money.’
    ‘No have money, effendi.’
    ‘Gold? They have gold in Abyssinia. Don’t tell me none ever found its way down here. Or silver. You’ve got silver. I’ve seen your women wearing