Behind Mt. Baldy (12 page)

“Is it far?” Roger asked.

Graham again studied the map.
“No.
Only about a kilometre in a straight line.”

Roger bent to look at the map.
“Where are we?”

Graham indicated their location.
Roger bit his lip, then said, “See how the road wriggles around this hill next
to us. Couldn’t we cut across back onto the road there?” He pointed to where he
meant.

Stephen cut in. “This is stupid.
Come on. Let’s go on with our hike. We’re behind time already.”

Roger turned to him in surprise.
“But Steve we’ve got to tell the police.”

“We already have. They’ve got
their car number. They’ll get them. Let’s get out of here.” Stephen turned to
keep walking.

“No!”

Roger was adamant. He stood there
trembling with excitement and dripping sweat. “We’ve got to tell the police.”

Graham met Peter’s eye and
nodded. “Roger’s right Steve.”

Stephen stopped and turned back.
“Well you bloody well tell them. I’m sick of this. I just want to get on with
the hike!”

“Not so loud,” Graham cautioned.
“Keep your voice down.”

Stephen sneered. “You’re as bad
as Roger. You think those men murdered that man too.”

“As a matter of fact I do,”
Graham replied evenly.

Peter interposed. “They do look
mighty fishy. Or I mean like fish out of water. What are they doing here, in
the middle of the jungle?”

“Probably just
stealing orchids from the Sate Forest!”
Stephen snapped.

“Or looking for someone else to
shoot?” Peter said.

Roger shivered. The blond man
certainly looked like he was capable of shooting someone, and so did Bruno.

“We’ve got to do something,” he
urged.

“Yes, but what?” Graham asked.

Peter spoke first. “We could
start by having a look at what they are up to.”

“That’s a good idea,” Graham
cried. “We could sneak back through the jungle and watch them.”

Roger went cold with fright at
the thought of that but felt his whole being concentrated on the desire to do
just that. “What about telling the police?” he asked.

“Let’s have something to tell
them first,” Peter said.

“Couldn’t we do both?” Stephen
asked. “Two go to watch and two go to get the police?”

Graham hesitated. Then he shook
his head. “No. Better if we all stick together.”

“Remember what happened when we
split up at Stannary Hills that time,” Peter said.

“Don’t remind me!” Roger cried.
He went cold at the memory. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

Graham grabbed Roger’s arm. “Hang
on. Let’s plan this.” He studied his map. “We will get off the road here and go
up to the top of this hill and dump our packs. It isn’t far.”

“Come on.  Let’s go. I want
to know what these men are up to,” Roger urged.

Graham turned, looked back along
the road,
then
led the way to where the end of a cutting
allowed them to get off the road. Compass and secateurs in hand he led the way
up into the jungle.

CHAPTER 8

ROGER IS DETERMINED

Roger found the slope much steeper
than he expected. He and his friends had to grab at trees to help haul
themselves up the first twenty metres. The jungle wasn’t too thick but there
were still enough small trees and vines to impede their movement and to catch
on their packs and equipment. It was also very dry so the leaves and deadfall
underfoot rustled and crackled.

After about a hundred paces
Graham stopped. The hill still went on up. “We’d better dump our gear. We are making
too much noise,” he whispered as the other closed up on him.

Roger looked around. He could not
see the crest of the hill but he could just see the road down on their left. He
felt a worry that was almost a physical itch -
that
the men would drive off before they got there.

They took off their packs.
Stephen dropped his with a thud and earned a glare from Graham and Roger.

“What about our basic webbing?”
Peter asked.

Graham hesitated,
then
said, “Better leave that too.”

“That’s against Captain Conkey’s
orders,” Stephen reminded.

The rule in their unit was that
cadets in the bush always had a map, matches, water and one meal. That meant
basic webbing. This was basic safety in case they got lost or injured.

Graham shook his head. “I know.
But it’s more important we don’t make a noise and aren’t seen. Those blokes
have got guns don’t forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Stephen
said, looking a bit pale. He was remembering not only the body they’d fished
out of the lake but the kid he’d seen shot by a .22 in a gang fight two years
earlier.

Roger was remembering the same
incident but he was so excited he pushed it to the side of his consciousness.
His whole being seemed to be tingling. As he unbuckled his webbing he asked.
“What’s the plan?”

Graham pointed. “We will just
creep along the side of the hill where we can see the road until we can get a
look,” he said.

“Should we all go?” Stephen
asked. “Won’t four make more noise?”

Graham answered. “A bit more, but
we are safer in a group. Come on. Have a big drink and let's move.”

They began walking slowly along
the side of the slope. Without their gear it was much easier to weave around
obstacles and slip through between trees. Only their boots made a noise in the
deadfall. Graham risked going fairly fast to begin with as they had two hundred
metres to backtrack. They went down into a small re-entrant choked with ferns
and wait-a-while and this took a couple of minutes to find a way around.

As they went on around the slope
they got a clear glimpse back along the road. To his consternation Roger saw
the men open the doors of their vehicles and get in. Motors roared into life.

“Blast! They’re going to drive
off!” he hissed. The boys began to move as quickly as they could, knowing they
would not be heard above the vehicle engine noises.

For a moment a thick clump of
undergrowth hid the vehicles from view. The sound of them moving off came
clearly to them.

“They’re not coming this way,”
Peter said.

The boys stopped to listen. The
engines did not accelerate and there was no sound of gear changes but the noise
began to get fainter. Graham and Roger both broke into a run, or as near a run
as they could manage through the tangle of dry undergrowth. Graham leaped a
fallen log blocking his path. Roger couldn’t clear it but sprang up onto it.

Crack!

The log snapped and Roger went
sprawling into the leafmould. He swore and scrambled to his feet. By this he
was so excited his vision seemed blurry. A thin vine at ankle height caught his
left foot and he fell again, heavily this time, striking his face on a tree
trunk. He felt blood rush in his nose but ignored it and sprang to his feet.
Ahead was another dip, with thicker undergrowth. They crashed through this and
up a slight rise.

Graham suddenly stopped and lay
down. Roger slowed and went forward at a crouching run and joined him. Peter
and Stephen were still well behind them. Roger saw that he and Graham were on
the edge of the cutting and could see down to where the vehicles had been parked.

“Oh they’ve gone!” Roger wailed.

“Shh! Listen,” Graham said. The
sound of a motor came to them. “They’ve gone down that old timber track.”

“Both of them?”

Graham shrugged. “Don’t know. One
for sure, the four wheel drive.”

“What’s down there?” Roger asked.

Peter and Stephen joined them.
Graham pulled out his map and peered at it.

“There’s no road marked,” he
said.

Roger leaned over to peer at the
map. “Where are we?”

“Here.” Graham put his finger on
the map.

“None of the timber snig tracks
are marked,” Peter said.

“It must run down this spur
line.” Graham traced it with his finger. It was one of about five roughly
parallel ridges which ran south from the main ridge to end in an arm of Lake
Tinaroo. The whole area was a network of small creeks and covered in
rainforest.

“What on earth are they doing
down there?” Peter asked.

“Hiding something?” Graham
suggested.

“Looking for treasure,” Roger
answered with conviction.

Stephen snorted.
“Treasure!
Your imagination’s taken over Roger,” he
commented as he turned to laugh at him. Then his expression changed to concern.
“Jeez Roger!
You’ve got blood everywhere.”

Roger put his hand to his nose
and it came away covered in blood. He realised it was trickling down his chin
and red droplets were spattering on the dead leaves. He pulled out a
handkerchief. “It’s OK,” he said. “It’s only a blood nose. I tripped. What will
we do now?”

“First we will check if both cars
went down the track. Then we should tell the police,” Graham replied.

“Here
comes
a car,” Peter cautioned. They listened to an approaching vehicle. A white
Landcruiser came into view from the west and drove straight past.

“Just tourists,” Peter observed
as the vehicle went out of sight.

By this time Roger had staunched
the flow of blood. He pulled out his water bottle and washed his face. His nose
now felt all stuffed up and his handkerchief was a bloody mess. A few drops
still trickled and dripped and he could taste the blood on his lips and at the
back of his throat. He ignored it.

“Come on,” he said, leading the
way down onto the road.

The four walked quickly but
cautiously forward to where the vehicles had been parked. Roger stopped, looked
down the side track then scanned the ground. “Both vehicles have gone down
there,” he murmured, pointing to where the wheel tracks showed in the dust.

“I wonder if they dropped
anything
else?
” Peter asked.

Their eyes quartered the ground.
There was nothing. Roger walked across to get a better look down the side road.
It went gently downhill along the spine of the ridge but curved to the left
fifty metres on. There was no-one in sight and no sound.  He began walking
down it.

“Roger! Where are you going?”
Stephen called after him.

Roger turned and hissed
furiously. “Ssh! They’ll hear you. I’m going to see what they’re up to.”

“Don’t be a fool!  What
about our hike?” Stephen replied angrily.

“Bugger the hike. It can wait.
This is more important,” Roger replied.

“Shouldn’t we go and tell the
police?” Peter temporised.

“Tell them what? We haven’t seen what
these blokes are up to,” Roger replied.

Graham looked at his watch. “Two
o’clock. We should be getting on,” He said. Then he added, “Besides, I’m not at
all keen to go looking for armed men in the jungle.”

To Roger it appeared that
Graham’s sense of responsibility was warring with his spirit of adventure.
“Just a little look,” Roger replied.

“We promised Captain Conkey we’d
keep out of trouble,” Graham replied. “I’m the senior don’t forget and I’m
responsible for your safety.”

“Why don’t two of us stay here
and watch while two walk back to the Forestry Barracks to contact the police?”
Peter suggested.

Graham hesitated. He bit his lip
in indecision.

“I’ll stay and watch,” Roger
said.

“So will
I
,”
Stephen replied.

Graham gave in. “Alright. Pete
and I will go back. If we don’t meet you here then we will RV on top of the
hill where our gear is. And for God’s sake don’t let them see you.”

“We won’t. Get going. Hurry up,”
Roger replied.

Graham and Peter turned and set
off at a brisk walk. Stephen turned to Roger. “Where will we hide, up on the
bank?”

“I’m going to follow this track
for a bit, just to see where it leads,” Roger replied.

“Roger! You said we would hide
and watch.”

“I will too. I don’t want to be
seen,” Roger replied. He glanced around.  Graham and Peter had vanished
from sight. ‘It will take them about twenty minutes to reach the Forestry
Barracks, so I have perhaps twice that long,’ he calculated. Now he was gripped
by an intense curiosity. ‘I just have to know!’ he told himself. After a check
of his watch he started walking cautiously along the track.

“Roger!” Stephen hissed, fear
evident on his face and in his voice.

“You stay here and hide if you
want to,” Roger replied in an angry whisper. He wiped sweaty palms and
swallowed. His throat felt suddenly dry. He knew he was scared. He also knew he
was being stupid but he couldn’t stop himself. So he continued walking.