Riding slowly back towards his Navajo partner, Jim Sinclair frowned, noting that the younger man had been distracted by the crowd of Masai gathered near the old well out past the corrals. It had run dry years ago and Hayes had been meaning to repair it for nearly as long.

"Hey, Indian!" Jim called. "We've got to get these horses put up if we want to meet the Wing Commander's plane on time."

"Uh yeah…" John Henry started to lift his horse's reins, then hesitated. "Jim…"

"Let me guess, native curiosity?" Sinclair said dryly.

"They're excited about something," John Henry pointed out. "Something could have fallen down the well and it does belong to the Wing Commander…"

"And you want to take a look?" Jim grinned, teasing him. "Come on then…" Nudging his horse around, he rode towards the Masai with John Henry tagging after him. As he approached, Jim felt a cold shiver run down his back. The Masai weren't so much excited as worried and there seemed to be quite an argument going on as ropes were waved around. A thin wailing sound was echoing from somewhere. "Ngoi?" spotting one of the ranch hands, Sinclair dismounted and waved him over. "What's going on?" John Henry slipped off his own horse, dropping the reins to ground tie her and squirming through the crowd. There wasn't a Masai who didn't tower over him, but they still moved aside obligingly to let him through.

"M'Kula's littlest daughter is in the well," Ngoi explained.

"What? How the hell did that happen?" The well had been boarded up for years and Jim knew that it was checked regularly to make sure that nothing could fall in.

"The boards had been moved," Ngoi answered grimly. "How she got in there, I do not know. But she is alive. We can hear how she is crying, bwana."

Jim swore and pushed through the crowd after his foster brother. John Henry was kneeling as the edge of the well beside M'Kula, being careful to stay far enough back not to disturb any more earth.

"It's little Watanga," John Henry told him as he leaned over his shoulder. "She's stuck quite a way down." He glanced at M'Kula who was arguing with a couple of his friends and fighting over the ropes they had brought.

"He wants to go down after her," Ngoi translated.

"Hell no! M'Kula! You’ll bring the lot down of top of her," Jim exclaimed in horror. He reached for the rope himself.

"She is my daughter," M'Kula protested. "I must do this!"

"You’re too big," Jim argued, tugging the rope out of his hands. "I've got some experience of climbing. I’ll do it."

John Henry eased back from the edge and got up. "Jim…" he said softly.

"I know, I know. But we can’t leave her," Jim broke off as the Navajo grabbed the rope.

John Henry met his blue eyes with a faint smile. "What you said," he said simply.

"No," Jim growled in refusal.

"You've taken me climbing. I know what I'm doing."

"It's too damn dangerous."

John Henry cocked his head to one side. "Do you see anyone else who can do it? Cowboy, I'm smaller than you, I'm lighter than you and you’re stronger than me. I’d rather have someone up here who knows what he's doing to get me out…."

"Yes but…"

"Jim, look around you…"

Jim looked. At the worried Masai looming around them, at M'Kula's worried expression and anxious looks darted at the well…

Watanga wailed from the well in terror.

Sinclair growled and grabbed the rope. "All right, all right. But if you get killed don't come complaining to me about it." John Henry didn't smile, but gave him a nervous look as Sinclair started to wrap the rope around him, making it into a makeshift harness. "Put your gloves on, kid," he ordered as he knotted the rope securely, making sure it wouldn't slip and cut him in two.

John Henry nodded, pulling his roping gloves on and flexing his hands. A tug on the rope made him look up at his foster brother.

"Sure about this?" Jim asked.

"No, but I can do it."

"Be careful then. Keep your feet off the sides and don’t touch anything if you can help it. The whole lot might cave in on top of the both of you."

"That isn't very reassuring."

"It's meant to be a damn warning. I don't want you getting yourself killed. I put in too much time raising you to be my partner. Got that?"

"Yes, Jim."

"Be careful," Jim repeated more quietly, lightly knuckling his chin with one fist before turning to the Masai. "Right. Let's get her out of there. Anyone got a flashlight?"

Ngoi had brought his battered torch from the house and handed it over. John Henry slipped its worn loop cord over his wrist so he wouldn't drop it and switched it on.

"John Henry…" Jim urged steadily as he finished positioning the Masai to hold the rope.

Following Jim's instructions, John Henry turned to the well and sat on the edge, using the support beam that had once held the water bucket to ease out across the deep dark hole. It looked like a long way down. Even the powerful beam of the flashlight didn't reach far enough to pick out the little girl in the darkness. Her thin frightened wail from below made him shiver and think of ghosts.

"Take your time, kid," Jim urged.

John Henry nodded. "I'm ready. Let the rope out." Taking a deep breath, he gingerly turned over onto his stomach, letting his legs slide down into the well. With the rope playing out across the beam, he eased himself downwards, letting the rope run through his hands.

There was a frightened shriek from below as loose earth slithered over the edge.

"M'Kula! Tell her to keep still," Jim yelled urgently. "If she struggles she might slip and fall..."

M'Kula grimaced in understanding, bellowing instructions quickly to Watanga.

John Henry descended slowly into darkness. He could hear the little girl below him alternately wailing and sobbing in fright.

"Hold still, Watanga!" he called down to her, hoping she could recognise his voice. She had seen him often enough in the village with M'Kula, who had been teaching the young Navajo the specialist skills of tracking in Africa and John Henry had frequently played with her.

"John Henry?" Watanga wailed, mangling his name as usual.

"Yeah, little one. Don't be scared. I'm coming…"

"Its dark!" she sobbed.

"I know, I know. Hold still now. You can look for the torch…"

There were times when John Henry could bring him close to hysteria, Jim reflected grimly as he slowly let the rope pay out through his hands. He got had two of the biggest Masai to act as anchor men, but he was still terrified of letting John Henry drop. The sides of the well were far too precarious for this sort of thing. One wrong move and the whole thing could collapse burying both John Henry and Watanga at the bottom. If that happened there would be little chance of getting them out, even if they survived the fall.

"John Henry! How's it going?!" he lifted his voice to yell, figuring they would both need the reassurance.

Sure enough there was a definite quiver in John Henry's voice as he yelled back. "I can see her! A little more now. I can almost reach her…"

"What are you doing?" M'Bula's grim voice made Jim jump and look round in alarm as the Masai shoved through the crowd. He wore the traditional red robe of his people, hung round with beads and feathers and the various paraphernalia of a witch doctor. Rumour had it that the witch doctor was leader of the leopard men in the area. His power however seemed to be waning as the gentler and, Jim suspected, more powerful Kumba started to displace him in the Masai's respect.

"Watanga has fallen into the well," someone explained cautiously.

"Then leave her," M'Bula snapped.

"What?" Jim yelped.

"The spirits are angry. This is why they bring no rain. They have chosen Watanga and have taken her for their own. Leave her. The spirits will bring rain in her name."

"You have got to be kidding!" Sinclair snarled. M'Bula snorted and stepped forward, scattering black dust from a pouch into the well as he chanted and stamped hard on the soft earth.

"Hold the rope!" The chanting Jim would have stood for, but the sudden stamping was too much and he lunged, grabbing the Masai and yanking him away from the well. He shoved him hard, propelling him away from the well. A babble of shocked excitement rose around him at his manhandling of the witch doctor. M'Bula looked as shocked as any one.

"Get off our land," Jim hissed at him in fury.

"You defy me?" M'Bula began and was interrupted by a yell from behind him.

"The well!" Ngoi cried in horror and Sinclair swung back. M'Bula's stamping had been enough to dislodge the fragile edges of the well and dirt was starting to slide into the hole, surging faster and faster.

"Pull!" Jim screamed in horror, lunging back to his place on the rope. "Get them out of there…"

* * *

Oblivious to what was going on on the surface, John Henry concentrated on the small hand reaching up to him through the darkness. He could see Watanga's wide eyes in the light of the flashlight, the glint of the bright beaded necklace she always wore.

"Okay, okay, nearly got you," he crooned, reaching for her. Her fingers touched his and he stretched as he far as he could, not daring to risk pulling her towards him. As far as he could tell, she had landed on a board that had some time fallen into the well. The decaying wood was creaking under her slight weight and obviously wouldn't hold her for much longer.

The rope eased out a little more, letting him ease his arm around her. "Are you stuck?" he asked as she clung to his hand. She shook her head, too scared to speak. Very carefully, John Henry put one foot against the wall, risking the chance of a dirt slide to get enough leverage to lift her. Then he let go of the rope with his other hand to pull her towards him.

"Put your arms round my neck now," he urged her and Watanga obeyed, locking onto him in a choking grip as he tugged her free from her perch into the slightly safer hold of his arms. John Henry tightened his grip around her waist as she burrowed her face into his shoulder. "I've got you, little one. Soon be….Yipe!"

John Henry let out a yell of fright, nearly deafened by Watanga's shriek of terror in his ear as dirt suddenly started to pour past them, filling the air with choking dust. A board he had passed on the way down, clattering past him, hitting his shoulder and slamming into the wall. Something sharp dug into his back under his shoulder blade and he yelped in pain, struggling to hold onto the terrified little girl as his arm weakened. Grimly, he held on, ignoring the pain and doing his best to protect Watanga from the worst of it with his own body.

Dirt was everywhere in his face and nose and eyes, he was drowning in the stuff and being cut in two by the rope strangling his midriff. "Jim!" he yelled in panic, spitting out dust and coughing as the air became choked with the stuff and it started to get hard to breathe. He could hardly see now even with the torch…

Dirt was burying them alive…

Then suddenly the rope jerked and they were being hauled upwards at a dangerous speed, dragged through the torrent of dirt spilling down on top of them….

Abruptly light blossomed through the darkness, growing stronger and stronger. John Henry flung out one hand, fending them off from the wall as they crashed into it and twisting so that Watanga wouldn't be squashed against it.

There was a babble of Masai and hands abruptly reached for him, pulling him and his precious burden over the edge of the well to safety. Before he could protest, Watanga was plucked out of his arms and he was being lifted, hustled away from the well.

With a roar of sound the well finally caved in completely, taking a large part of the surrounding surface with it. All John Henry could do was gape at it over Jim's broad shoulder that he had been slung over.

"Wow," he sputtered, then started coughing violently again. He was promptly set back on his feet and allowed to sit down.

"John Henry? Indian? Speak to me, kid?" Jim's worried voice finally got through the roar of dirt in his ears and he focused on him, smiling weakly as he gasped for breath. The Texan was busily untying the ropes from around him. The loosening of the constriction helped John Henry suck down some much needed air.

"Watanga…" he managed to gasp.

"She's fine." Jim pointed to where the little girl was sitting in M'Kula's lap, being hugged and adored by what appeared to be the entire Masai tribe. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

John Henry waved weakly at his shoulder and Jim quickly ducked behind him, examining the area. The Navajo yelped as the sore spot was poked and prodded.

"Doesn't hurt enough for anything to be broken," he wheezed.

"We'll let Hayes decide that," Jim grumbled, then groaned aloud. "Hell, he's going to be waiting for us."

John Henry closed his eyes. The last thing he fancied was driving out to the airstrip. He suddenly realised he was starting to shake helplessly.

"Easy, kid," Jim said softly, putting his arm around him in a friendly hug.

"I was so scared," John Henry stuttered, clutching at the older man.

"You’re okay. You did well…"

"Was that a pun?" John Henry stammered.

"No. Well, it wasn't meant to be…Oh hell…" Jim grinned as John Henry managed a weak laugh.

"What happened to the well? It gave way…"

"That bastard M'Bula was here," Jim shot a glance round, half glad, half-angry that the witch doctor had vanished. If he could have got his hands on him he would have taught him a thing or two about nearly getting John Henry and the child killed. He glanced down at John Henry as the young Navajo shivered against him and softened his voice. "I'll send someone to pick up Hayes. Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up. You look like something a hyena rejected…"

* * *

With the soft darkness of an African night slipping across the ranch, John Henry curled up on the veranda with the book Hayes' had brought him from Nairobi. Jim was not quite dozing at the table while Hayes was tinkering with his stamp collection.

John Henry was feeling quite proud of himself now he had got over the shock of having the well fall in on top of him. Hayes kept teasing him with being hero of the day.

"M'Kula, we didn't expect to see you tonight," Hayes soft exclamation made him look up. "How's Watanga?"

M'Kula was standing at the bottom of the steps, holding a feathered Masai asagi in one hand. "She is well, bwana," the Masai responded, beaming at them all. "I came to invite you all to a celebration. John Henry?"

The Navajo sat up, moving stiffly thanks to the stitches Hayes had decided to put into his shoulder. The Wing Commander's opinion was that he has mashed his shoulder thoroughly on a sharp stone in the well wall. "Hi, M'Kula…"

M'Kula bowed to him. "You are to be guest of honour. And I have a gift for you."

"For me?" With a glance at Hayes to see what he should do, John Henry slipped to his feet and padded down the steps.

M'Kula offered him the spear. "You are a warrior," he told the young Navajo. "You risked your life for my child. For that I will give you my life."

"Uh, thank you," John Henry took the asagi respectfully, genuinely awed by the gift.

M'Kula nodded, pleased. "Come to the village," he urged. "We will dance and feast…"

"Jim? Hayes?" John Henry glanced back at the others.

"Can't have a celebration without the guest of honour, off you go." Hayes urged. "I'll wake Jim and follow you…"

"I am awake!" Jim grumbled, unfolding his long legs to get up.

John Henry grinned and set off with the Masai, questioning him curiously about the spear.

"Kids and their toys," Jim snorted as he stretched and wandered down the steps. "I hope he doesn't get any ideas about lion hunting with that thing. Hey…"

"What is it?" Hayes followed him and then felt it to; the splash of a fat drop of rain against his neck.

"Rain," Jim commented smugly. "So M'Bula was wrong. The spirits didn't want a sacrifice to send rain and saving Watanga was the right thing to do."

"Hmmh," Hayes murmured as he strolled after John Henry and M'Kula.

"Hmmh?" Jim echoed warily.

"I think M'Bula will blame us for being wrong."

"Probably. What else is new? We'll worry about it later. At least Kumba thinks we're okay. Come on, Howie. If we don't hurry, John Henry will get there without us and eat everything in sight." Hayes smiled in amusement and followed Sinclair as he strode briskly on ahead. It was obvious that Jim was incredibly proud of John Henry. So was Hayes. He was delighted that John Henry was being celebrated for his courage as he deserved. Co-operation was the secret of survival in this land and he was glad that Jim and John Henry were starting to fit in as they made the game ranch their home.