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The Will of Allah 3
They had been walking around for about a quarter of an
hour when a brilliant flash of lightning almost burned out their
eyeballs. That decided them. 'We'd better hurry,' whispered Dogo. 'The storm's almost here.' Sule said nothing. A
dilapidated-looking house stood a few yards away. They
walked up to it. They were not put off by its appearance.
Experience had taught them that what a house looked like was
no indication of what it contained. Some stinking hovels had
yielded rich hauls. Dogo nodded at Sule. 'You stay outside and
try to keep awake,' said Sule. He nodded at a closed window.
'You might stand near that.'
Dogo moved off to his post. Sule got busy on the crude
wooden door. Even Dogo's practised ear did not detect any
untoward sound, and from where he stood he couldn't tell
when Sule gained entry into the house. He remained at his
post for what seemed ages-it was actually a matter of
minutes. Presently he saw the window at his side open slowly.
He froze against the wall. But it was Sule's muscular hands
that came through the window, holding out to him a biggish
gourd. Dogo took the gourd and was surprised at its weight.
His pulse quickened. People around here trusted gourds like
this more than banks. 'The stream,' whispered Sule through
the open window. Dogo understood. Hoisting the gourd on to
his head, he made off at a fast trot for the stream. Sule would
find his way out of the house and follow him.
He set the gourd flown carefully by the stream, took off its
carved lid. If this contained anything of value, he thought, he
and Sule did not have to share it equally. Besides, how did he know Sule had not helped himself to a little of its contents
before passing it out through the window? He thrust his right
hand into the gourd and next instant he felt a vicious stab on
his wrist. A sharp exclamation escaped from him as he jerked
his arm out. He peered at his wrist closely then slowly and
steadily he began to curse. He damned to hell and glory
everything under the sun in the two languages he knew. He
sat on the ground, holding his wrist, cursing softly. He heard
Sule approaching and stopped. He put the lid back on the
gourd and waited. 'Any trouble?' he asked, when the other got
to him. 'No trouble,' said Sule. Together they stooped over the
gourd. Dogo had to hold his right wrist in his left hand but he
did it so Sule wouldn't notice. 'Have you opened it?' Sule
asked. 'Who? Me? Oh, no!' said Dogo. Sule did not believe him
and he knew it. 'What can be so heavy?' Dogo asked curiously.
'We'll see,' said Sule.
He took off the lid, thrust his hand into the gaping mouth of
the gourd and felt a sharp stab on his wrist. He whipped his
hand out of the gourd. He stood up. Dogo, too, stood up and
for the first time Sule noticed Dogo's wrist held in the other
hand. They were silent for a long time, glaring at each other.
'As you always insisted, we should go fifty-fifty in everything,' said Dogo casually. Quietly, almost inaudibly, Sule
started speaking. He called Dogo every name known to
obscenity. Dogo for his part was holding up his end quite well.
They stopped when they had run out of names. 'I am going
home,' Dogo announced. 'Wait!' said Sule. With his uninjured
hand he rummaged in his pocket, brought out a box of
matches. With difficulty he struck one, held the flame over the
gourd, peered in. He threw the match away. 'It is not necessary,' he said. 'Why not?' Dogo demanded. 'That in there is an
angry cobra,' said Sule. The leaden feeling was creeping up his
arm fast. The pain was tremendous. He sat down. 'I still don't
see why I can't go home,' said Dogo. 'Have you never heard
the saying that what the cobra bites dies at the foot of the
cobra? The poison is that good: just perfect for sons of swine
like you. You'll never make it home. Better sit down and die
here.' Dogo didn't agree but the throbbing pain forced him to
sit down.
They were silent for several minutes while the lightning played around them. Finally Dogo said, 'Funny that your last
haul should be a snake-charmer's gourd.' 'I think it's funnier
still that it should contain a cobra, don't you?' said Sule. He
groaned. 'I reckon funnier things will happen before the night
is done,' said Dogo. 'Uh!' he winced with pain. 'A couple of
harmless deaths, for instance,' suggested Sule. 'Might as well
kill the bloody snake,' said Dogo. He attempted to rise and
pick up a stone from the stream; he couldn't. 'Ah, well,' he
said, lying on his back. 'It doesn't matter anyway.'
The rain came pattering down. 'But why die in the rain?' he
demanded angrily. 'Might help to die soaking wet if you are
going straight to hell from here,' said Sule. Teeth clenched, he dragged himself
to the gourd, his knife in his good hand. Closing his eyes,
he thrust knife and hand into the gourd, drove vicious
thrusts into the reptile's writhing body, breathing heavily all the while. When he crawled back to lie down a
few minutes later the breath came whistling out of his nostrils;
his arm was riddled with fang-marks; but the reptile was dead.
'That's one snake that has been charmed for the last time,' said
Sule. Dogo said nothing.
Several minutes passed in silence. The poison had them
securely in its fatal grip, especially Sule, who couldn't suppress a few groans. It was only a matter of seconds now. 'Pity
you have to end up this way,' mumbled Dogo, his senses
dulling. 'By and large, it hasn't been too bad -- you thieving
scoundrel!' 'I'm soaked in tears on account of you,' drawled Sule, unutterably weary. 'This seems the end of the good old
road. But you ought to have known it had to end some time,
you rotten bastard!' He heaved a deep sigh. 'I shan't have to go
up to the hospital in the morning after all,' he mumbled,
touching the wound in his thigh with a trembling hand. 'Ah,'
he breathed in resignation, 'the will of Allah be done.' The rain
came pattering down.
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