They Found a Cave (13 page)

Then, as though released from an evil spell, they stirred and sat comfortably along the wall, and drew in deep breaths of the sweet night air.

‘Well?' Nigel asked. ‘He seems oddly keen to get us back, doesn't he? What do you think, Tas? Are those two afraid Jandie may be coming back, or what?'

‘Umm—I don't reckon so. What are we going to do? Turn up tonight like good little boys?'

There was a shout of indignation at such a suggestion, especially from Nippy. But a short while after Nippy was found to be very near tears as he thought of the letters they would never see. ‘And there would be a parcel, too, p'raps, as it's my birthday.' They tried to comfort him, but it was hard to find much hope that the Pinners would not be as good as their word.

Looking round, Cherry saw that Pa Pinner had indeed killed the party; the fire was nearly out and only litter and dirty plates remained of the great feast.

‘Come on!' cried Nigel, springing up. ‘I bet he can still hear us, the sneaking piece of pig-face. Now then, Nippy! Help sing Pa Pinner down the track. Make it a round; I'll start, and Nippy you're to come in next. Ready, everybody?

 

‘
Pore
Mr. Pinner

Lost his dinner.

 

(Now, Nippy!')

‘Not me!' muttered Tas, slipping inside to stir up the fire. He quietly cleared up the mess and washed up, while the rest leaned out and sang themselves hoarse and happy.

‘Come out, Tas,' called Nippy. ‘Come and join in the Raiding Song.'

It made no difference to them that the enemy was by now far beyond hearing. They sang to the listening bush, and the tranquil, uninterested stars. They sang until Tas, who had refused to come out, shouted brutally, ‘Stow the noise! Don't you blokes want any tea?'

‘Good old Tas!' they croaked, and snatching up their mugs they crowded to the hearth, where he was carefully tapping the big black billy of tea to make the tea leaves settle, and quickly and in good cheer got their jaws to work on some pleasant leavings from the feast.

There was always someone from Capra Cave watching the Homestead for any special activity next day, and the big roots of the fallen tree were hacked back so that never again would Pa Pinner or anyone else be able to spy upon them.

However, when evening came without another invasion of their peace the tension relaxed and Tas said, ‘See? The Old Man was jest talking through his neck. Let's roast another bit of lamb, and hope he smells it.'

Feeling secure again, they had another feast, the evening passing in great merriment. Once or twice Cherry found herself throwing a furtive glance towards the mouth of the cave, to be reassured by the sight of a pale yellow star instead of an ugly grinning face, and the knowledge that there was no longer a grandstand immediately below.

They grew careless of danger again, and the following morning saw a wild scramble up a crag where Brick was shouting to come and see the hawk's nest he had found.

‘Look at the bones, Nippy. A mountain of rabbit bones. You'd better watch your rabbit—and Fluffles! Why shouldn't the hawk mistake him for a new sort of rabbit?…Hullo? I say, what's that?'

‘What?'

‘Something moving along the road down there. Might be a car.'

‘Quick,' Tas called, ‘get back to the cave and watch. We mustn't take our eyes off of that.'

Strangely enough, no one was killed in the stampede that followed, and they were able to pick out the tiny object again from the cave.

‘It's not a car,' Tas pronounced, ‘and it's not a horse and buggy neither. It's a—yes! Oh, gosh! It's a motor bike and side-car. What rotten bad luck.'

‘You mean it won't be Jandie, then?'

‘Jandie? Oh, I wasn't thinking of her, Nig. See, in these parts the Troopers—the Police—use an outfit like that down there. That means two Johns, I reckon—like Pa said.'

Nigel whistled and the rest looked grave.

‘Tell you what,' said Tas, after watching a little longer, ‘I'll nip down and hide as close as I can git. Might overhear something that would be useful to us. The rest of you pack swags and be all ready to go bush, if we have to.'

‘Where?'

‘We'll take the goats and go over the Cock's Spur,' said Tas, thinking hard. ‘Must be somewhere where there's water. That Fern Gully of Mad Dad's is a bit too far, I reckon.'

It was on the tip of Cherry's tongue to tell them of the pool which was quite close, and the rocks where they could hide. She looked hard at Tas, but he returned the look blankly.

Tas hurried off, and left them to collect the goats and pack what would be most necessary, as well as all the remaining meat, cooked or uncooked.

They were still at work when Tas was observed to be returning. Scurrying to the wall in surprise they craned out to call to him. Tas came without haste to the foot of the rock and then he looked up. ‘Gosh!' he spluttered, laughing till he had to press his hands to his sides. ‘Gosh! Ever see hungry birds stretching their necks from the nest? They got nothing on you. Ever see 'possums disturbed in daylight? Oh, if you could see yerselves!'

‘Shut up, Tas. Have some sense. What about the Troopers? Don't fool about.'

‘Oh,
them
,' Tas replied carelessly. ‘I spotted what they were without having to go right down. They're not Troopers, only Stock-and-Crop, see?'

‘Aren't they after us?'

‘No fear. See, once a year someone comes to each farm singing a little song, “Wanter-lister-Stock'n Crop”. Then they find the Boss and he tells 'em what stock and what crops he's got, everything. My Dad used to invite them to count the bees in his hives.'

‘Is that all?'

‘That's all. Sometimes they take a squint at the place and if you've worked it up a bit they makes a note and shoves the rates up on yer next time; or if the old dog's fool enough to show himself they may ask nasty questions about a licence, see? But those blokes down there won't trouble us, not unless Pa sez things and they come again one day.'

‘Good, then we can unpack. And you can take the meat out of my blanket, Cherry—thank you!—and put it back in the safe.'

 

***

 

They laughed about their false alarm as the days went by towards Christmas with no further disturbance of any kind. As Nippy was fond of saying, ‘A lot
we
care for old Pa Pinner's threats.'

Yet Pa had scored one victory, whether he knew it or not, for since his visit on the birthday night Nigel had been unlike his usual self. He seemed always restless, and would go off for hours by himself, and return with nothing much to say—and still less to offer for the larder, though supplies were getting very low. Cherry wondered whether it was the war he worried over, or the lack of any news about Jandie, and the mail they had never read.

One morning he went off as soon as it was light and did not return until they were eating breakfast, sprawled on the withered grass beside the tarn. He wore a shirt he had himself washed the previous day, and over it, to hide the rents, a coat.

‘Not hot enough for you?' enquired Tas. ‘Or are you off to the Races, perhaps? Going gay in the big city?'

Nigel grinned round happily, ‘I'm off to Valleeroo, if you call that one-eyed hamlet a city. I'm going to fetch in our Christmas mail,' he stated calmly.

Tas no longer sprawled, but sat alert in every muscle. ‘No go, son! It's too far. Why, you couldn't get there and back in one day. I don't reckon I could meself without starting reel early, and you don't know the way; you'd only git bushed. Never bin to the township before, have you?'

‘Only in the car passing through in the dark when Jandie brought us here. That doesn't bother me. There's only the one track and I'll follow it till I get there!'

‘If you follow the road all the time it'll take still longer.'

‘Can't help that! Can you pack me something to eat, Cherry? Then I'll be off. My noble steed is prancing down below.'

‘Your
what
?'

Nigel explained that he had found an old bike thrown away in a shed, and for the last few weeks he had been mending it up, concealed in a hidden gully. The tyres were worn out, but he had stuffed them with grass and reeds and some straw pinched from the cowshed.

‘Why, I saw that old boneshaker once,' cried Brick. ‘You'll never get anywhere on that. It's got enormous wheels and queer fixed pedals. I tried to ride it, but I couldn't.'

‘I'm taller than you, and I've been having a quiet practice each day, Brick. Come down and help start me off, will you?'

‘Suppose Pa sees you?' Tas enquired.

‘That's why I must go now. I've been watching him. He's gone to the lower paddock with a mob of sheep.'

‘Suppose he reckons it's time to fetch the Christmas mail himself? They usually go on the bust about Christmas Eve. And that's in three days by my calculations,' said Tas.

‘I make it the same, so there's no time to lose. If I hear a lorry trailing me I can always leave the track and hide in the bush, can't I? Now, I've only a few bob to spend and a huge list of things we need, but who wants what from the city shops?'

Beefsteak for Christmas dinner was the one item they all agreed upon, and this Nigel promised to bring them, if nothing else. They all escorted him down the hill as far as it was safe, leaving Brick to go right down to see him off. He proudly related on his return how Old Nig had sailed off on the rattle-trap like a bird.

‘The bike looked like something from a museum,' he told them, ‘but most of the hay seemed to stay in the tyres.'

Cherry laughed. ‘It couldn't have looked more of a museum piece than Old Nig.'

Truly, cave life had not improved their worn clothing, though it had provided a fine tan covering for their skin. For the first time Cherry noticed that hair trimmed with a pair of sewing scissors gave rather a gnawed appearance to the head; and patches made of flour bag with the printing still readable showed up worse than the holes.

It was absurd to watch for Nigel's return before evening, yet they did. A dozen times at least Nippy must have run to report, ‘Something moving in the bush—yes,
really
, this time.'

The day which had opened so brightly grew dull towards sundown, and a wind from the west sawed uneasily through the high trees. Dark soon drove Nippy from his watching to the cave, and when their evening meal was finished they found big clouds had rolled up, obscuring the moon which was nearly at the full and should have been Nigel's lantern if he was late.

Nor was this all; a cold lashing rain was driving in at the cave mouth by bedtime, when he had still not returned. It was horrible to them to think of Nigel somewhere out in the bush, fighting his way home in the dark along a wretched rough track with no protection but a thin coat.

However, it was no good sitting and worrying, Tas said. ‘Best go to bed, and I'll stack the fire so's it keeps in all night. Then he'll soon dry off if he comes in.'

 

***

 

There was no Nigel when they woke at dawn. However, the storm had blown itself out, according to Tas, and the smoke from their faithful fire rose steadily in a blue sky. Nippy, whose sight was that of a hawk's, was sent off with his breakfast in his hands, to watch; Cherry did her milking with a neck screwed round most of the time to see if Nigel should appear suddenly over the ridge; while Tas went off alone to the valley, to see what he could find out.

The morning fretted past with still no sign of Nigel, nor had Tas returned. Nerves were becoming strained; Cherry nearly wept when Brick left lumps of mud on the stone floor she had just swept, a thing which had never troubled her much before.

Suddenly Tas came panting up the track, in such haste that he could scarcely find breath to tell his news. Then he moved round, looking for soap and a towel, and told his story while he cleaned himself up and put on his one tidy shirt. It appeared he had met a man he knew, working to mend a culvert washed out of the road by the night's rain, when about a mile from the Homestead.

‘If I'd only bin a bit sooner!' Tas grieved. ‘The silly cow had just taken our mail up to the Homestead.'

‘Good lord! Then—then Nig couldn't have got it yesterday.'

‘Doesn't look like it, does it? But that's not all. Old George told me a thing or two without knowing it; that's why I'm going down to Valleeroo jest as fast as ever I can spruce up me clobber.'

‘Go on telling us—quick!'

‘Yes, what happened to Nig?'

‘Can't you give a chap a chance? I'm puffed. Well, see, I couldn't ask straight out bang about Nig, could I? Old George thinks we're all at the Homestead still, so Pa can't have split, that's one thing. Ough! Where's the comb?'

‘Here you are. What did your “Old George” actually say, then?'

‘He said, “You ought a bin in the township lars night, Tas. You'd 'ave laughed your head off. A chap comes in from some place out back on a bike all wired up, with no tyres, and making a noise like ten army lorries on the road. 'E was a guy if ever there was one! Coat half tore off and the colour of mud, hair bin chewed by the rats, shoes tied round with a bitta string, and best joke of the lot 'e couldn't talk proper. No! He props the old bike outside the store, goes into the Post Office part, and says to old Mrs. Fancy, “Ah want the meel for the Homestead”—like that, all lad-de-dah.

‘“It's gorn,” she tells 'im, same time tipping me the wink to collect it up for you after he goes out ther shop. She knew I'd be coming this way today, and she wasn't trustin' that young guy with letters. As she sez to me afterwards, “You can't be too careful, can you? Who knows if he's not a German spy?”

‘“If you reckon that,” I tells her, “it's your place to let your cousin up at the Police Station know.”