The Crocodile's Last Embrace Read Free

certain Miss del Cameron will be happy to teach the older girls in due time,” said Beverly, “but for now, you had better concentrate on using the sling. Besides being handy for chasing vermin out of your garden, it can be very useful in bringing down small game if you’re lost and in need of food. And it will help you develop hand-to-eye coordination.”
    Jade retrieved her knife and slid it into her boot sheath as the girls each selected a small stone and pushed it into the pocket of her leather sling.
    “Miss Jade, have you ever killed someone with your knife?” asked Elspeth.
    “Elspeth Archibald!” scolded Beverly. “Is that how a Girl Guide talks?”
    “I’m sorry,” Elspeth said, although her expression suggested she was sorrier that she was being reprimanded. The downcast look vanished as quickly as a dewdrop under the hot Nairobi sun. “It’s only that I’ve heard all sorts of exciting stories about Miss Jade. How she’s captured criminals, and roped wild animals, and how she’s flown a plane, and—”
    “Is it true you’ve been traveling the globe these past months, looking for your lost love?” asked Mary. The other girls’ heads all snapped around in unison to stare wide-eyed at Jade.
    “Where in the name of Saint Peter’s goldfish did you hear that load of . . . ?” asked Jade.
    Undaunted, Mary persisted. “My mother heard from Nancy, the telephone girl, that your sweetheart died in the war. But Uncle Steven said that your sweetheart left you and went away.” She put a finger to her lips and crinkled her brow as she tried to reconcile the conflicting accounts.
    “Uncle Steven?” Jade asked.
    “Steven Holly,” said Mary.
    “Oh,” replied Jade in a flat tone. She remembered Mr. Holly only too well. During her first visit to the Muthaiga Club, he’d made a drunken pass at her and she’d punched him in the face. And if the telephone operator was spreading stories, everyone in the blooming colony would know by now that her beau, Sam Featherstone, had left her at the train station.
    Jade pulled her own sling out of her trouser pocket and picked up a small stone. “Shall we get back to your practice? Perhaps Mary would like to emulate William Tell’s son, put a tin can on her head, and let us try to knock it off.”
    Mary hung her head. “I apologize, Miss del Cameron.” Her head popped back up as though on a spring. “It’s just that both you and madame here,” she added, addressing Beverly in the approved Girl Guide manner, “have led such exciting lives driving ambulances and traveling, and we’d dearly love to hear about some of it.” All the girls’ eyes opened wide in expectation.
    “No!” Jade’s voice was low, but firm. “Now, if you are ready, we’ll continue with your sling practice.”
    She put an empty canned-meat tin on top of a fence post and lined up the girls from youngest to oldest. “Remember what I taught you. Keep one strap wrapped around your hand; hold the other end loosely. Swing around several times to get the proper speed but keep your eye on the target, not on your sling. Release at the top of your downswing and let the stone fly.”
    Each girl took a turn. A few stones smacked straight down into the dirt by the girls’ feet. Others made great sweeping arcs up and down, falling short or long, depending on the girl’s strength. One stone went straight up before plunking down on the thrower’s hat. Jade explained to each girl what had gone awry: releasing too late or too soon or without enough speed and force. The last girl, Helen, stepped up and flung the stone with enough accuracy to graze the tin and make it jiggle.
    “Very good, Helen,” said Beverly. “It really is just a matter of practice.”
    “This is harder than archery,” said Gwendolyn Walker, a plump little blonde. “I can’t see where I’m throwing with the sling.”
    “That’s part of practice,” said Jade. “Teaching your hand to obey your eyes. It’s not much