They Found a Cave (14 page)

‘“Just what I did,” she chuckled. “I slipped inside and rang Bill. And Bill reckoned he'd like a look at the young chap, and told me to tell 'im there was a parcel at the house fer 'im.”

‘“Laugh! If you'd seen 'im rattle off up the hill to Bill's. And we reckoned 'e wouldn't know, very likely, it wasn't only a private 'ouse, and wouldn't it be a bitta fun when 'e sees Bill!”'

After a stunned silence Brick remarked quietly, ‘Well, anyhow, he
did
get there on the bike.'

‘A lot of good that done him,' Tas returned savagely. ‘Reckon he's sitting in the lock-up this minute. We don't even know what Pa told the Stock-and-Crop men. And if Pa should take it into his head to go to Valleeroo today…and why not? It's close enough to Christmas, ain't it?'

‘Nig'll escape somehow, you see! You trust Old Nig,' advised Nippy, solemnly wagging his head. ‘I suppose you've got all dressed up to go and rescue him? Could you take me, too?'

‘No, I couldn't. You be a good little chap and help Brick and Cherry till I bring him home. I got friends in Valleeroo may help us, see? As long as Pa doesn't beat me to it. Old George has offered me a lift to the township when he's done the culvert; he reckons I want to go for some Christmas shopping. So I'll be there in an hour or two, and you can bet Nig and me will be back for afternoon tea, or soon after. Mind you have lots ready!'

For all his haste to be gone, Tas took a great trouble with his appearance, and he certainly succeeded better than Nigel had done. Then he swung off, at such a pace that Brick thought twice about offering to go with him as far as Hollow Tree.

They still watched, rather hopelessly now, for Nigel's appearance through the scrub, and the hours dragged by until the sun was well overhead.

‘Only three to get dinner for, now, Cherrystones,' Nippy called to her as she sat listlessly watching the valley from the wall. ‘You ought to be pleased, with less cooking. It's like the ten little nigger boys, isn't it?'

For answer, Cherry gripped him by the shoulders and then, without speaking, pointed with a look of horror to the big shed at the Homestead. A man was throwing wide the doors, the two doors of the part where the lorry was kept.

It was certainly a fact that the lorry left the Homestead about dinner-time; the curious thing was that none of the remaining three saw it return. It was not for lack of watching, for they had their meals sitting along the wall, and all through the weary afternoon at least one pair of eyes from Capra Cave raked the track, imagining every movement or eddy of dust to be Nigel and Tas coming home, trundling the old bike between them.

When the milking was done and it grew too dark to see any longer outside, the three sat uneasily round the fire, talking occasionally, but mostly listening for certain sounds; the sound of a stone kicked from the track by a stumbling foot or the noise of a lorry echoing through the quiet night as it backed into a shed, with the slam of a door which would echo and re-echo to the heights.

It was warm and still, very different from the previous night. Even the dark seemed a mere blanket which the moon would presently lift, and they comforted each other with the remark that tonight would not be so bad if it came to sleeping in the bush.

The clear night magnified all sound so that a dozen small things brought them hurrying to the cave mouth or to the goats' pen. Each time it proved to be of no importance. Between such alarms as came with the end of day, the evening drew in wonderfully still; still as only the bush knows how to be, and rather awesome. Though Brick protested it was much too hot, Cherry heaped wood on the fire so that the blaze might sweep the cave with its cheerful light. She would not admit to herself that the far corners were eerie—only that their voices sounded unnaturally loud when they cut the silence, so that the hiss and crackle of the logs helped out the scanty conversation in a friendly sort of way.

Nippy, who had refused to go to bed without the others, sat with his head on his arms, his fair curls gleaming in the firelight. It was some time before they discovered he was fast asleep, and tumbled him into bed without really waking him. Brick soon followed, saying he intended to be up early next morning. Cherry remained to part the burning logs, and soak the oatmeal for the breakfast porridge. Finding Brick asleep she did not go to bed at once but crept to the wall, and sat there with arms wrapped round her knees, staring blankly at the black void which was the valley.

Was it chance, she wondered, that first Nigel and then Tas had left the cave and not returned? Or was it some plot? Tas trusted his ‘Old George', but he admitted he had called at the Homestead before he met Tas. Perhaps he was being ‘used' to lure him away. The Pinners were cunning brutes. Tas had been so certain he would return by tea-time…so very sure…

Cherry shivered slightly though she was not cold. Suppose Nig and Tas had never got as far as Valleeroo, but were caught, and locked up in the chaff-house at the Homestead?…Perhaps were being starved or tortured even now?

Quickly she dragged her thoughts away and tried to listen earnestly to the cry of a distant owl. Sitting alone in the quiet cave, with only the vast bush for company, she could feel the danger of imagining evil things. She tried to think of Mother and Dad, and Christmas in England, but those thoughts brought her too near to tears. It was worse, she thought, than the night when they had decided to run away. ‘For then,' she moaned, ‘it was all of us. Now it's only me—and I know I ought to do something—and I daren't even tell Brick what I suspect.'

At last she lifted her head and looked up. ‘Gosh!' she exclaimed, so surprised that she spoke aloud. ‘The moon's up and I never noticed.' The first clear light was flowing in from the rim of the world, reminding her of something Tas had once said; and just as the moonlight was finding out the dark depressions, so his words were coming to her like a flood of light. ‘If ever I was in a fix it'd be Mad Dad I'd want to help me out,' Tas had said once, and another time, ‘Old Mad Dad, he knows every inch of the bush.' And hadn't Tas told her clearly on the day she discovered the pool over the Spur, ‘You bet he goes there every night of the full moon; he's always there, then.'

So he'd be there now, for tonight the moon was full.

It was clear now what she had to do; go there and find Mad Dad and ask his help to rescue Nig and Tas. That was all…that was all! Oh, quite straightforward and simple to whisper to oneself what to do—but actually to do it? To get up and go—alone—out there? Ah, no! No! Easy that was
not
!

First to leave the security of the dear, familiar cave on stealthy feet, to leave behind the comfortable snores of Brick, and the sight of Fluffles curled warmly on the hearth stones; then to tread gently past the goats, asleep with heads resting on the warm sand of the outer cave, and reach the tarn, where the endless rasping of the frogs checked instantly in such a frightening way at her approach. And then, beyond the tarn, where the cold moonlight showed up queer unfamiliar shapes, the journey became a nightmare. Each forward step she made was like a big happening in her life. Each black shape safely passed, or found to be nothing more alarming than some old stump, was a great victory—until the next ‘something' came into view, motionless, sinister, horrible.

There were sounds, too, always sounds in the quiet of the night. A tiny cracking or creaking, a rustle of dry bark, leaves moving slightly with no wind to stir them…ha! What was that? Stealthy footsteps behind?…or…

Over all the moonlight played with black and silver, played games with the bush, played that a tree-trunk along the ground was really a glimpse of water and the tarn a dry, black hole, played that each stick in the undergrowth was a writhing silver snake.

Worst of all was climbing the Spur and trying to make no noise. The Spur was unfamiliar ground even in daytime, and it seemed to Cherry on no account must she disturb ‘it' up here, whatever ‘it' was. She must make no sound to attract ‘its' notice. Sometimes she held her breath to listen, and then it seemed the whole bush stopped to listen with her. With her? Or against her? She could never make up her mind which. She only knew the gum-trees leaned forward to watch her…to watch her…

She almost sobbed with relief when she came out on the same flat rock where she had first seen the track to the pool. She could see across to the far ranges, which looked like scraps of black paper stuck on the polished sky, and below, the vague beginnings of a creek in the rocks, and the sheen of water on the pool she sought. The moon was now too high to play tricks with that blob of quicksilver.

She paused, staring unhappily at the dim track descending among piles and cubes of stone, and the black space beyond yet to be explored. She felt sick at the thought of going on alone. Once she tried to call to Mad Dad, but no sound came from her dry throat. At last, noiseless and quaking, she crawled down the cleft, and began to move down the track which led to the water. She heard the blood drumming in her ears and kept her eyes fixed on the business of choosing the next spot to place her foot.

What caused her to look up suddenly she never afterwards knew, but ahead she saw a gleam of water, and in front a black stump she had not noticed from above. So wrought up was she that it scarcely surprised her when the stump moved towards her—yes, walked towards her—but its branches were two arms outflung.

Around her the bush held its breath again. Was it for this it had waited? Defiant anger seized her. She just
wouldn
'
t
show it she was afraid! She threw back her head and shouted a challenge to it—and discovered that her voice obeyed her, though with an odd cry quite different from what she had intended.

Strangest of all there came an answer, a wild glad shout that tore to shreds the frozen silence of the bush.

Then, stumbling towards her with arms outstretched came the stump—which was no stump, of course, but Mad Dad—Mad Dad plunging towards her and falling forward, crying in a strange voice and thanking her again and again, because ‘You've come! You've come at last!'

And then he fell full length on the path and lay quietly.

 

Cherry knew another kind of fear as she knelt beside him, wondering what to do. Then he stirred and started muttering. His eyes were still closed and again he seemed to be thanking someone for coming—where? ‘It's all right now; everything's all right now,' he cried. Then he sighed, and was quiet again except for a hard breathing.

He remained like that for so long that she had almost decided to go down to the pool and fetch him a scoop of water in her hands—though quite what she would do with it when she fetched it she didn't know, as he seemed to be asleep. Remembering what Tas had said once happened at the pool she shivered, thinking it would be easier to return to the cave for help than go forward those few yards.

‘Extraordinary!' She turned with a start and found the old man's mild eyes fixed on her. ‘What are
you
doing here?' he asked.

Before she could answer he sat up, smoothing his white hair carefully with his hand and placing on top the felt hat full of holes that he loved. ‘I didn't see you come,' he said. Then he asked in a casual sort of way, ‘Did you happen to meet anyone on the way down? Oh, no…of course not! There was someone with me just now…but he's gone away. He won't come back because it's all right…Everything's all right now, eh?…All happy again. But aren't you afraid, child?'

Cherry laughed in great gulps, ‘Why, no! I'm not. It's funny, but I'm not afraid any more.'

She looked proudly round about her. The bush, still steeped in moonlight, appeared only beautiful and friendly. She glowed with the pride of achievement. Had she not done what she had set out to do, reached this place and found Mad Dad? He had mistaken her for someone else, but that didn't matter, for it somehow made him happy, and he seemed to have forgotten the rubbish he had talked when upset by his fall.

‘Do you know,' she said softly, ‘I don't believe I shall ever be afraid again in all my life. But perhaps I shall.'

He had been watching her face. ‘No, you won't!' he stated, ‘not like that. You see it's only imaginary things which make us so afraid. What else could? Think for yourself.
There!
Now you're grown-up, see?'

‘Yes. I know what you mean. But “they” won't ever believe it, you know. There'll be times when I don't myself, I suppose,' she sighed. ‘And school and all that…'

‘Of course. But at least you are free of…' his arm swept round in a great gesture.

‘Yes!' she exulted. ‘Yes, I am!' Then she laughed happily. ‘All this time and I haven't told you what I came to ask.'

‘Nor what made you think I should be here. Or did you happen to see me when looking for your goats, perhaps?'

‘Oh, no!'

His face changed and looked almost stern. ‘Did Tas—' he began, but she interrupted quickly.

‘Tas is away. Both he and Nig. That's why I—why I am so glad to find you, and I want you to help us, please. Everything has gone wrong…'

He shook his head, smiling. ‘Sit down and tell me,' he ordered, unstrapping his bluey and spreading it on the ground. Then he fumbled in the pack for chocolate. ‘Eat something while you talk, child!'

‘Oh, that reminds me. Do you want a drink? Are you all right after your fall?'

‘My fall? What fall? I'm quite all right!'

The moon had shrunk to a silver sixpence while they sat talking and making plans. Mad Dad was confident no harm had come to the boys and that he would soon find out where they were. Occasionally as they talked a frogmouth would boom, or a small something rustle through the scrub, and Cherry listened intent but unafraid.