They reined in the horses to watch two ancient Ndorobo working on the fresh skull of a bull elephant with their hand axes, chipping away the bone to expose the roots of the tusks. As they watched, one man drew a tusk free of its bony canal. The pair staggered away with it, their skinny legs buckling under the weight. They struggled unsuccessfully to lift the immense ivory shaft into a canvas sling suspended from the hook of a beam scale. Leon slipped out of the saddle and took their burden from them. Effortlessly he reached up and placed it in the sling. Under the weight of the tusk the needle revolved halfway around the scale’s dial.

‘Thanks for your help, young fellow.’

Leon turned. A tall man was standing behind his shoulder. He had the features of a Roman patrician. His short neat beard was silver grey and his bright blue eyes were steady. There could be no question as to who this was. Leon knew that Percy Phillips’s Swahili name was Bwana Samawati, ‘the man with eyes the colour of the sky’.

‘Hello, Percy.’ Penrod confirmed his identity as he rode up and dismounted.

‘Penrod, you look fit.’ They shook hands.

‘So do you, Percy. Hardly a day older than when we last met.’

‘You must be wanting a favour. Is this your nephew?’ Percy did not wait for the reply. ‘What do you think of that tusk, young man?’

‘Magnificent, sir. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘One hundred and twenty-two pounds.’ Percy Phillips read the weight from the scale and smiled. ‘The best piece of ivory I’ve taken in the last many years. Not too many of those around any more.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Much too good for the miserable dago who shot it. Cheek of the man! He complained he’d been given short measure for his miserly five hundred pounds. Didn’t want to pay up at the end of the safari. I had to talk to him very sternly indeed.’ He blew softly on the scarred knuckles of his right fist, then turned back to Penrod. ‘I had my cook bake a batch of ginger snaps for you. I remember your penchant for them.’ He took Penrod’s arm and, limping slightly, led him towards the large mess tent in the centre of the encampment.

‘How did you hurt your leg, sir?’ Leon asked, as he fell in with them.

Percy laughed. ‘Big old bull buffalo jumped on it, but that was thirty years ago when I was still a greenhorn. Taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten.’

Percy and Penrod settled in the folding chairs under the flap of the mess tent to exchange news of mutual acquaintances and bring each other up to date with goings-on in the colony. Meanwhile, Leon looked around the camp with interest. Despite its apparently haphazard layout it was obviously convenient and comfortable. The ground was swept clean. The huts were all in good repair. On the periphery of the main camp, on the slope of the hill above it, a small whitewashed and thatched bungalow was obviously Percy’s home. There was only one exception to the camp’s order, which caught Leon’s attention.

A Vauxhall truck, of the same vintage as the vehicle he and Bobby owned, was parked behind a hut. It was in a terrible condition: one of the front wheels was missing, the windscreen was cracked and opaque with filth, the bonnet was propped open with a log and the engine had been removed to a crude workbench in the shade of a nearby tree. Somebody had started to strip it down, but seemed to have lost interest and abandoned it. Engine parts were scattered around or piled on the driver’s seat. A flock of chickens had taken over the chassis as their roost and splashes of their white droppings almost obscured the original paintwork.

‘Your uncle tells me you want to be a hunter. Is that right?’

Leon turned back to Percy Phillips when he realized he had been addressed. ‘Yes, sir.’ Percy stroked his silver beard and studied him thoughtfully. Leon did not look away, which Percy liked. Polite and respectful, but sure of himself, he thought. ‘Have you ever shot an elephant?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Lion?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Rhino? Buffalo? Leopard?’

‘Afraid not, sir.’

‘What have you taken, then?’

‘Just a few Tommies and Grant’s for the pot, sir, but I can learn. That’s why I’ve come to you.’

‘At least you’re honest. If you’ve never taken dangerous game, what can you do? Give me a good reason why I should offer you a job.’

‘Well, sir, I can ride.’

‘Are you talking about horses or human females?’

Leon flushed vividly. He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again.

‘Yes, young man, word gets around. Now, listen to me. Many of my clients bring their families with them on safari. Wives and daughters. How do I know you won’t try to rabbit them at the first opportunity?’

‘Whatever you heard is not true, sir,’ Leon protested. ‘I’m not like that, at all.’

‘You’ll keep your fly buttoned around here,’ Percy grunted. ‘Other than ride, what else can you do?’

‘I could mend that.’ Leon pointed to the wreckage.

Percy showed immediate interest.

‘I have one of the same make and model,’ Leon went on. ‘It was in similar condition to yours when I got it. I put it back together and now it runs like a Swiss watch.’

‘Does it, by God? Damn motors are a complete mystery to me. All right, so you can ride and repair trucks. That’s a start. What else? Can you shoot?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Leon won the Governor’s Cup at the regimental rifle competition at the beginning of the year,’ Penrod confirmed. ‘He can shoot, I’ll vouch for that.’

‘Paper targets are not live animals. They don’t bite you or jump on you if you miss,’ Percy pointed out. ‘If you want to be a hunter you’ll need a rifle. I am not talking about a little service Enfield – a pea-shooter isn’t much use in an argument with an angry buffalo. Have you got a real rifle?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What is it?’

‘A Holland & Holland Royal .470 Nitro Express.’

Percy’s blue eyes widened. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘That is a real rifle. They don’t come better than that. But you’ll also need a tracker. Can you find a good one?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He was thinking of Manyoro, but then he remembered Loikot. ‘Actually, I have two.’

Percy gazed at a brilliant gold and green sunbird flitting about in the branches above the tent. Then he seemed to make up his mind. ‘You’re lucky. It just so happens that I am going to need help. I’m to lead a big safari early next year. The client is an extremely important person.’

‘This client of yours, I wonder, could he be Theodore Roosevelt, the President of the United States of America?’ Penrod asked innocently.

Percy was startled. ‘In the name of all that’s holy, Penrod, how on earth did you discover that?’ he demanded. ‘Nobody’s supposed to know.’

‘The US State Department sent a cable to the Commander in Chief of the British Army, Lord Kitchener, in London. They wanted to know more about you before the President hired you. I was on Kitchener’s staff in South Africa during the war so he telegraphed me,’ Penrod admitted.

Percy burst out laughing. ‘You’re a sly creature, Ballantyne. Here I was believing that Teddy Roosevelt’s visit was a state secret. So you put in a good word for me. It seems I’m even deeper in your debt.’ He turned back to Leon. ‘Here’s what I’ll do with you. I’m going to make you prove yourself. First, I want you to put that heap of rubbish together and get it running.’ He nodded at the dismembered truck. ‘I want you to make good your boast. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘When you’ve done that, you’ll take your famous .470 and your two even more famous trackers, go out there into the blue and bag an elephant. I could never employ a hunter who’s never hunted. When you’ve done that, I want you to bring back the tusks to prove it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Leon grinned.

‘Have you enough money to buy a game licence? It’ll cost you ten pounds.’