They Found a Cave (12 page)

Nippy wandered off along the ridge with Fluffles at his heels like a dog. He kicked aside any stick that looked as though it was asking to be picked up for firewood and felt very happy and idle. A light breeze sweeping up from the valley brought sounds to his alert ears and he distinctly heard the clop-clop of an axe, so he stretched on a warm rock to listen gloatingly to Pa Pinner cutting his own firewood, and to watch a couple of hawks wheeling round and screaming in the sky. It occurred to him then that it was a long time since they had had any bother from the Pinners.

 

When Nippy was allowed to return, the cave was much changed.

Some precious sheets of newspaper covered the cracks in the table; bags, which still smelled of the onions they had once held, draped the benches in a festive way; and the sawn log at the end for the Guest of Honour was grand with cushions of the same and scarcely wobbled at all. All down the table were rusty jam tins of late little orchids of palest pink and mauve, set off with fronds of maidenhair fern from a far gully and looking elegant enough to grace the finest damask and rarest silver.

Cherry looked it over with some pride. Rush baskets holding honey sweets (Tas called them ‘lollies') were also her work, and the crusty rolls of whole-meal and buttermilk which she had at last achieved. A milk-pail of stolen plums, stewed, and a small billy of cream, were considered too inartistic to place on the table, but they lurked ready at hand for the time when plates should have been well polished with a piece of bread to conclude the meat course.

‘Look out! He's just coming,' whispered Brick excitedly. ‘Where are the presents to go?'

‘In front of where he sits—quick!'

As another gift was added to the pile, Cherry took from a hiding-place the birthday cake, and set it in all its glory in the middle of the table. It is true it was rather flat and heavy and had no icing, but it was a cake, and she had made it in a camp oven made of an old biscuit tin heaped with hot ashes. From its centre waved a flag with birthday greetings.

Nippy himself looked unfamiliar as he came in, grinning shyly, with a clean face and his gold curls plastered sleekly down with water. He wore round his shoulders what Brick called a ‘cloak of honour' (again the old onion bags had proved useful) which was stuck full of hawk and parrot feathers.

‘Here comes the Big Chief,' called Nigel, and they all clapped as he went to his seat, indicating that the collection of curious-looking objects wrapped in leaves and tied with rushes were presents to be opened.

First came Brick's effort, a fine, smooth piece of board for drawing, and a bundle of pointed charred sticks to serve as pencils. ‘For drawing Fluffles' whiskers' was inscribed upon the board. Next, from Cherry, was one of her plaited baskets filled with a special stick-jaw toffee she had made. Then, from Nigel, a valuable sardine tin with the edges neatly hammered flat to make a drinking dish for Fluffles. Last, and best in his opinion, was a small black rabbit Tas had dug out of a hollow log, and a hutch he had made for him out of oddments.

Nippy was so excited about his rabbit that he let him escape, and Fluffles almost had an early feast of his own before the party began, but Tas captured the rabbit just in time.

All this while most succulent smells were rising from the great stew-pan in the hearth, and such happy sounds that you could believe the joint roasting there in water and fat was chuckling and gurgling to itself as it cooked.

‘
I say!
' murmured the hero of the feast, sniffing enquiringly in that direction. ‘
I say!
'

‘Yes,' Cherry admitted with a smile, as she handed Tas the only sharp knife, ‘the joint is your real birthday present because it took Tas and Nig hours lying hidden to get it for you, didn't it, Tas?'

‘Wow-wow! Is it the Pinners' Sunday dinner?'

‘It is—it was—anyway it was to be their next dinner! What fun when they find out! Tas ran round while Nig kept guard and cut it down in the sack where it hung from a gum-tree.'

‘Too right—half a sheep!' Tas added as he took the lid off and began to slice the joint. ‘Gave it to Nig, who staggered up the hill while I pulled the sack up again with a log inside.'

‘Ooo!' breathed Nippy blissfully a few moments later, when the best enamel plate loaded with meat and vegetables was placed before him, ‘and no limit to eating, as it's my birthday?'

‘No limit,' they assured him gravely, ‘and no need to talk, either, till we've all had a good tuck in.'

This rule was kept faithfully, except for a few grunts of keen enjoyment, until plates were no longer being brought quite so often to the stew-pan for the owners to hack at the meat and ladle up the trimmings.

‘Thank goodness,' remarked Nippy at last, sighing with satisfaction as he wiped his mouth with his hand, ‘thank goodness we don't have to rust things up with party manners!'

‘Funny thing, manners,' Brick ruminated with his mouth full. ‘They only seem to work when a chap's too well fed to care whether another chap gets in first or not. S'pose I'd had to wait just now, looking down my nose, till the lot of you had finished before I could have a second go. Cripes!'

‘Yes,' agreed Nippy eagerly, ‘and look at the waste of nice gravy there still is because of manners. Cherry makes us wipe our plates with bread, instead of a lick round with our tongues, like Fluffles does. Still I ate up my bread before I started on the plums, so I can't say it was really waste.'

At this point Nigel stood up, thumping on the table for silence with his knife handle. He made some peculiar noises with his mouth, but no words came.

‘'Orry,' he got out at last, ‘ish thish toffee. Here Cherry ish your fault—you make ish. You can make the spesh then. My teesh…stuck together…urr!'

He sat down so abruptly that Cherry, who happened to be on the other end of the bench, was shot upwards suddenly. She remained standing, looking round nervously and wondering how to begin a speech in Nippy's honour.

‘Er…er…Ladies and Gentlemen…' she floundered.

‘We're certainly not
that
,' interrupted Nippy firmly.

‘Well, anyway,' she struggled on, ‘er…here we all are and it's getting dashed dark, but we've saved some candles to light in a minute and so…er…er…well, I think it's really the goats we should thank.'

‘Why? It isn't
their
birthday,' protested Nippy.

‘No, of course it isn't, it's
your
birthday, Nippy.'

(‘Gosh! How did she guess?')

‘But…what I meant was…' Cherry looked wildly round for a source of inspiration. Why was it so hard to say things standing up? She turned her eyes from the glowing fire to the table, littered with remains of the feast, and from the table to Nigel's jaws, patiently working away to free themselves of her toffee. She glanced from Nippy's rumpled curls to where Tas grinned at her in the half shadow, his back to the cave mouth, and still no inspiration came.

Lastly she stared in front, at the sky framed above Nigel's wall in an arc of stone, and here her gaze was fixed. The colour drained from her cheeks. Her mouth stayed open, but no words came at all, for…
what was hanging out there
?

‘Fine speech, Cherrystones,' Brick called carelessly, giving her some mock applause. A silence followed his noise, a silence like the pause charged with electricity before a thunderstorm breaks.

Tas was staring at Cherry—then he turned softly in his seat. The others, following his glance, also turned their heads—and like Cherry they saw with a shock the face outside. It was Pa Pinner's face—a face screwed into lines of devilish joy—a face which appeared in the half-light to hang suspended, unconnected with a body.

‘Reg'lar thieves' kitchen, ain't it?' remarked the Face pleasantly. ‘Go on with your fun. Don't mind me!'

Breath, held in fear, was let out in a sigh. Somehow it was not so bad once he had spoken, and the familiar nasal tones stirred up their old hate. With one accord they moved to the wall, standing in line as though to protect their cave against further spying. They felt even braver when they could see that Pa was standing on the upflung roots of the big tree which had gone over, and was at least no headless apparition.

He hung there, one arm crooked round a snake-like root, the other hand attempting to roll a careless cigarette. ‘When the party's all over,' he remarked, ‘I reckon we'll all stroll 'ome together, eh? I'd have bin along to fetch yer down before but fer shearing and one thing and the other.'

He paused and seemed to feel slightly uncomfortable beneath their staring eyes and silence.

‘Cutting a bit o' wood today after dinner,' he continued, ‘I happens to notice the old dog,' he nodded towards Tinker, the sheep-dog, who was sitting at the place where Pa must have climbed the trunk of the tree. ‘'E keeps lookin' up this way. Seems 'e reckoned he could smell something interesting. By gosh, if the poor brute didn't think 'e could smell roast lamb! What d'you make of that now?'

There was no reply.

‘Yeah,' Pa went on, ‘I give 'im a bit of a kick of course, “You old fool,” I sez to 'im, “what will you reckon you can smell next? Half of a sheep, I suppose?”'

Pa lit a match with some difficulty and glanced slyly up at the cave. There was still no response from the watchers by the wall, only the same disconcerting blank looks met his, though at the mention of ‘sheep' a private nudge had been exchanged.

‘Yeah,' Pa continued, ‘“Ol' fool,” I calls Tinker. “Don't yer know,” I asks him, “that there's plenty good laws in the land agin sheep stealing? Don't you know, you old fool, that if anyone touches so much as a chop off a sheep, why the Law would git him quick and lively? He'd soon go for sheep stealin' where the convicts used to go in Hobart—ter prison!” That's wot I told 'im. Wasn't I right?'

He waited, glancing again at the row of expressionless faces watching him. Then Tas leaned forward.

‘Your dog's a rum 'un not to know that,' he said politely. ‘Why, I wouldn't keep a dog with so little sense. You best be careful. A dog like that might go fer the sheep in lambing time or anything. Better shoot him,' advised Tas.

‘Wot? Tinker go fer sheep? Shoot Tinker?' Pa shouted, thoroughly roused. ‘Wotjermean? Tinker's the best dog I ever had. He…'

Suddenly he stopped short and altered the tone of his voice.

‘He's a reel clever dog, is Tinker, but we all of us makes mistakes at times, don't we? True enough he fetched me up here, and said as how it was queer the smell of a good dinner could come out of a blankety wall o' rock. That got me beat, too, till I climbed this 'ere tree and seen what I seen. I would never 'ave looked fer a cave on top there, only I happened to notice the white stuff in them cracks in the rock where you haul yerselves in.'

Cherry felt an elbow in her ribs and Brick whispered, ‘Gosh! That old flour from the busted bag!'

Pa Pinner tossed down the stub of his cigarette and took hold of the tree roots as though about to climb down. ‘Now,' he commanded, ‘chuck down that rope ladder. I want ter come up.'

‘We haven't got one,' Nigel stated calmly. ‘Why not climb?'

‘Take me for a fool? 'Urry up now. Git a move on. No tricks with me or it will be the worse fer you,' Pa snarled. ‘I know well enough you gotta rope ladder up there; matter o' fact I bin missing that bitta rope some time, and I reckoned it 'ad taken a walk this way, 'long with a lot of other stuff!'

As he turned to descend they whispered quickly together, then watched him make his way to the foot of the cave. He was badly out of temper when he saw that daylight was already failing along the homeward track. He almost pleaded, ‘Look! I just wantta climb up and take a look round before we all leave. Come on now, chuck down the rope. It'll pay yer. I won't hurt no one if you do as I say.'

‘It's no good, Pa,' Tas said, ‘we're up here, and here we intend to stay. We wouldn't chuck a stair-case for you if we had one, see? And we're not going back to the Homestead neither, see? Not till Jandie comes home.'

‘Jandie?' he gave a short laugh. ‘Hev ter wait a long time then. Look 'ere, I'm not waiting any longer to argufy an' break me blooming neck goin' down in the dark, so jest listen to wot I say. You'll come along
now—
d'you hear that?
—now
! And best be sharp about it or you'll be sorry later, see?'

They saw only an irate man waving his fists about below them, while Tinker the Border Collie looked on with an ear cocked, as though he rather enjoyed the joke against his master.

All at once Pa let his arms fall and swung away, whistling to his dog. ‘All right,' he called over his shoulder, ‘all right! You think you got the laugh of me, don't yer? Wait on—we'll see! Jest you wait on!'

After a few steps he paused again, turning to make his words carry, ‘Like to know what'll happen if yer not at the Homestead by ten o'clock tonight? (See, I give yer that long to collect the blankets and stuff, though I don't know another chap as would.) First, all them letters that came fer you by the mail will do to light me kitchen fire in the morning. Next, a couple o' Johns will come smelling around with orders to make an arrest. Oh, yeah? Think yerself mighty clever, don't yer, Mr. Tas? Had about enough trouble with you, I have. So I notified the Police, I did. “Sheep stealing,” I told 'em, “and other stuff pinched, too.”'

A chuckle, a deliberate chuckle, reached his ears:

 

‘
Pore
Mr. Pinner

Lost his dinner!'

 

someone murmured in gentle tones of sympathy.

Pa Pinner spluttered and swore for a minute, then rather surprisingly got control of himself and said quite calmly, ‘Orl right! Do yer own deciding. Turn up be ten and no more trouble, and I'll let the Johns know everything's turned up. But if you
don
'
t—my word
!' With which dark threat he plunged away along the darkening track. They could hear him talking to himself, or his dog, long after he was lost to sight.