The camp at Ibeka was on high alert when they returned, with the outlying picket challenging them behind a loaded rifle.
“Returning patrol,” Chalmers replied and led his patrol in.
“You should have brought in your new friends,” Simpson said as Andrew dismounted. “You could have shown them round the defences and made them a nice cup of tea.”
“Maybe next time,” Andrew replied. He felt Simpson’s eyes on him and knew he had made an enemy.
Simpson hawked and spat on the ground. Of average height and wiry, he had a nearly permanent sneer on his face and a jaundiced look on life. Andrew watched as Simpson stepped to Hitchings and pushed the incident out of his mind.
I wonder who the woman is who waits for me.
I wonder who the woman is who waits for me.He allowed himself a smile, imagining a
