"Hold it," Homer Crawford roared, jumping to his own feet and grabbing
the South African in his arms. He glared at the newcomer. "Kenny, you
idiot, you're lucky you don't have a couple of holes in you."
Kenny Ballalou, grinning widely, stared at Dave Moroka. "Jeepers," he
said, "you got that gun out fast. Don't you ever stick 'em up when
somebody has the drop on you?"
Dave Moroka relaxed, the side arm dropping back into its holster.
Homer Crawford released him and the South African ran a hand over his
mouth and shook his head ruefully at Kenny.
Isobel and Cliff crowded up, the one to kiss Kenny happily, the other
to pound him on the back.
Homer made introductions to Dave Moroka and the Peters brothers.
"I've told you about Kenny," he wound it up. "I sent him over to the
west to raise a harka of Nemadi to help in taking Tamanrasset." He
joined Cliff Jackson in giving the smaller man an affectionate blow on
the shoulder. "What luck did you have, Kenny?"
Kenny Ballalou rubbed himself ruefully. "If you two will stop beating,
I'll tell you. I didn't recruit a single Nemadi."
Homer Crawford looked at him.
Kenny said to the tent at large. "Anybody got a drink around here?
Good grief, have I been covering ground."
Isobel bustled off to a corner where she'd amassed most of their
remaining European type supplies, but she kept her attention on him.
Dave Moroka said, his voice unbelieving, "You mean you haven't brought
any assistance _at all_?"
Kenny grinned around at them. "I didn't say that. I said I didn't
recruit any of the Nemadi. I never even got as far as their
territory."
Homer Crawford sank back onto the small crate he'd been using as a
chair before Kenny's precipitate entrance. "O.K.," he said, "stop
dramatizing and let us know what happened."
Kenny spread his hands in a sweeping gesture. "The country's alive
from here to Bidon Cinq and south to the Niger. Bourem and Gao have
gone over to El Hassan and a column of followers was descending on
Niamey. They should be there by now. I never got as far as Nemadi
country. I could have recruited ten thousand fighting men, but I
didn't know what we'd do with them in this country. So I weeded
through everybody who volunteered and took only veterans. Men who'd
formerly been in the French forces, or British, or whatever. Louis
Wallington and his team were in Bourem when I got there and--"
"Who is Louis Wallington?" Jack Peters said.
Homer looked over at the Peters brothers and Dave Moroka. "Head of a
six-man Sahara Development Project team like the one I used to head."
His eyes went back to Kenny. "What about Louis?"
"He's come in with us. Didn't know how to get in touch, so he was
working on his own. And Pierre Dupaine. Remember him, the fellow from
Guadeloupe in the French West Indies, used to be an operative of the
African Affairs sector of the French Community? Well, he and a half
dozen of his colleagues have come in and were leading an expedition on
Timbuktu. But Timbuktu had already joined up too, before they got
there--"
"Wow," Homer said. "It's really spreading."