‘That should be okay,’ he said; ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of…’

But he decided not to mention gangrene.

MacConnachie checked that the canteen was securely stoppered, and then examined Ansell. The one thing that gave him real concern was Ansell’s left shoulder.

Both of them had suffered superficial damage to their arms, legs and faces; and of course there were debilitating factors, such as lack of food and sleep, about which they could do nothing. But the shoulder was another matter.

On the first day, the strap must have bitten deeply. The skin was chafed and rubbed away from neck to shoulder, and even now had begun only improperly to re-form. The worst weals were in the centre, puffy and bruised across the ridge of bone; from there, they radiated outwards with diminishing severity, as the boy must have shifted the canteen from place to place in a vain search for relief.

So far as he could see the area was not actually weeping, but carrying the canteen must have become an agony that could only grow worse. A quick glance at the other shoulder told him that soon there would be nothing to choose between the two. The boy had not complained. Well, the canteen had to be carried. He said,

‘Not too bad.’

‘The right’s better.’

‘Try draping it round your neck.’

‘I’ve been meaning to, but we seem to crawl all the time.’

‘It’ll be better when we get in the mountains.’

‘Yes.’

But MacConnachie could not push the memory of that ravaged shoulder from his mind. Knowing he would have to approach the suggestion obliquely, unsubtle though he was, he nodded briskly and turned away, saying,

‘We’ll see if we can find something to pad it with.’ And then, very casual, ‘I’ll give you a spell, when I can, to give it a chance to heal.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Good. That’s fixed.’

‘And I’ll take the suitcase.’

Oh well.

The water had made Ansell’s finger-tips tingle, reminding him of their condition, but, having so recently seen the produce of MacConnachie’s wound, he decided against interfering with his own. Their boots had stood the march well, remaining weatherproof and securely attached all round. And this time, when they scratched out their shallow holes and squatted, they were both successful.

‘Must be the early morning trot.’

‘We’ll ask him to call us again tomorrow.’

Finally, MacConnachie said,

‘We must move to a place where we can see the whole valley ahead.’

It took nearly half an hour to find a suitable position. Crawling down through the scrub, they came suddenly upon a dazzling complex of brush, creeper and vine, at the heart of which, and running to its forward edge, there lay a scab-grown depression, offering concealment and a perfect vista of the valley floor. Settling on his stomach, MacConnachie read the ground over which they must travel; to know it by heart was essential.

From left to right, a river system of four elements ran across their front. The valley floor itself was cultivated and well inhabited, being dotted with huts. Beyond, the mountains rose sheer into the sky.