The World in My Pocket

That decided him, and he set off at a fast walk down the road. He had been walking a little over half an hour and had covered nearly two miles when he heard the sound of falling rocks, far above him.

Looking up, he saw Bleck and Kitson coming down the hillside, sliding and nearly falling, but coming at an alarming pace.

The sight of them filled Gypo with terror.

He heard Kitson yell, ‘Gypo! Stop! Come back!’

He began to run blindly.

He hadn’t run more than a few hundred yards before he realized he could never keep up this pace. Again he looked back.

Bleck was slithering down the slope and, as he watched, he gained the road. Kitson was coming down in a cloud of dust, sliding on his heels, sending a shower of stones before him.

Like a frightened, hunted animal, Gypo left the road and began to rush madly down the slope. In a few seconds, he lost his balance and fell face forward. His hands took the shock and he began to roll over and over.

He came to a gasping halt near the road. Desperately he scrambled to his feet and looked back over his shoulder. At the level he was now on, he realized neither Bleck nor Kitson could see him, owing to the overhanging rocks that screened him from their view. Although he couldn’t see them and he had a feeling of momentary safety, he could hear them and the sound of their movements sounded alarmingly close. He looked around wildly, sure that in a few minutes, they would catch up with him.

To his right was a wide stretch of short thick scrubs that grew on the mountainside. His one panic-stricken thought was now to hide, and he bolted headlong into the shrubs, wading thigh-deep through the close undergrowth, tearing his trousers against the stiff little shrubs, but not caring, until he reached the centre of the thicket, then he threw himself down, and stretched out flat, the shrubs closing over him like the covering of a protective blanket.

Trying to control his breathing, he lay motionless, listening. Kitson was the first to reach the road. He came to an abrupt stop and looked to right and left, surprised and startled to see no

sign of Gypo.

Panting and cursing, Bleck joined him.

‘Where is he?’ Bleck gasped.

‘Looks like he’s gone to ground,’ Kitson said.

Both men looked towards the stretch of shrubs. It was the obvious and only place where anyone could hide on this bare mountain slope.

‘That’s where he is!’ Bleck said, pointing, then raising his voice, he bawled, ‘Gypo! Come on out of there! We know you’re in there!’

Gypo flinched at the sound of Bleck’s voice, but he flattened himself further into the sandy soil, holding his breath and waited.

Bleck turned to Kitson.

‘Let’s get after the creep! You go in at the top and I’ll go in here!’

He walked to the shrub patch and pushed his way in, but he had only forced his way forward for about ten yards or so before he stopped, realizing the labour and the time it would take to cover the whole vast patch of ground. Unless he was lucky enough to walk right on to Gypo he would probably never find him.

Kitson, too, moving into the dense tangle of shrubs, also realized the difficulty of the task and he also came to a stop.

The two men looked at each other over the sea of green, tightly growing shrubs.

‘Gypo!’ Bleck shouted, his voice shaking with rage. ‘This is your last chance! If you don’t come out I’ll give you a beating you’ll live to remember! Come on out!’

Hearing the rage and despair in Bleck’s voice, Gypo remained motionless. He realized that if he only kept his nerve and remained right where he was, he stood a good chance of getting away.

Bleck began to move forward again, but without much hope and Gypo heard him forcing his way through the shrubs, going away from him. He could also hear Kitson crashing through the undergrowth, and also going away from him.

He waited, getting his breath back while his pounding heart slowly returned to a more normal beat.

After some minutes, the noise of the two men searching for him began to fade into the distance, and Gypo decided it would be safe to make a move. If they were going to cover the whole of the ground, it would be safer for him to keep shifting his position.

He started off, pulling himself over the sandy ground, manoeuvring his body past the short thick stems of the shrubs, careful not to disturb the head of the shrubs that now formed a screen above his crawling body.

He had been crawling forward for some thirty or forty yards, almost relaxed in his feeling of safety, when he saw the snake. He had just put his right hand out, his arm fully extended, his fingers digging into the soft soil to pull himself forward, when he glanced ahead, and there was the snake, coiled, its flat, diamond head within a few inches of his hand.

Gypo sucked in his breath in a hiss of terror. His reflexes became paralysed. It was as if he were turned to stone. Fear chilled his blood and sent his heart pounding so violently that he felt suffocated.

The snake, too, remained motionless.