Behind Mt. Baldy by Christopher Cummings Page B

he
thought.
    Off in the distance, in the
direction they were heading, Cockatoos began their raucous screeching. The two
boys stopped and looked at each other. Roger nodded with satisfaction. The men
must have disturbed the birds.
    Reassured, Roger went on, Stephen
following reluctantly ten paces behind. The track curved left, then slightly
uphill and back to the right. At the curve a side track went off to the left.
Roger walked to it and looked.
    This was an overgrown snig-track.
It went downhill very steeply. Stephen joined him. “We’d better not get lost.
We should make a sketch map,” he whispered.
    Roger nodded. “I’ll scout. You
make the map.”
    Stephen agreed. As a sergeant he
was better trained to do this. It was a skill Captain Conkey made the NCOs
practise every year. He pulled out notebook and pencil then took compass
bearings both ways along the main track then down the side track. After jotting
these onto a rough sketch he moved to follow Roger.
    Roger went on along the main
track for another fifty paces. It continued to climb gently and curve back to
the left. As he reached the bend he froze. His heart thumped wildly and he had
to force himself to edge forward. He could see the back of the black car.
    With rapid but cautious steps he
went across the track to the right and into the trees, making more noise than
he intended. From there he could also see the back of the Four-wheel Drive.
Both vehicles were parked on the track, one behind the other.
    Moving very cautiously from tree
to tree he edged forward. He heard Stephen following and glanced back.
Stephen’s eyes asked the question. Roger shook his head. No-one
in sight.
    “Write down the make and number
of the Four-wheel Drive,” he whispered. Stephen nodded. He still had his
notebook in his hand. To get a clear view of the number plate they had to creep forward level with the black car and only five metres
from it.
    By then Roger was sure no-one was
there but he kept moving cautiously just in case there was a guard somewhere
out of sight. They went on past the vehicles and within ten metres found
another track angling downhill on their right. It was also partly overgrown.
They crept into the V where the two tracks joined.
    Roger peered through the bushes
along the main track. The reason why the vehicles were parked where they were
became obvious. A large tree had crashed across the main track.  ‘Probably
blown down by that cyclone in February,’ Roger thought.
    Waving Stephen to follow, Roger
stepped out onto the side track and looked down it. It was quite steep and
curved out of sight to the left. Stephen joined him and took a compass bearing.
    As Stephen was writing it down
Roger’s heart seemed to stop. His hair stood up on the back of his neck. He
found he could not speak so grabbed at Stephen’s elbow.
    Two men had appeared at the bend
in the track below them - men in black.
    Roger kept his grip on Stephen
and pulled him sideways as he moved to the nearest big tree, on the downhill
side of the track. He thought he was going to be sick or faint but he managed
to somehow watch where he was going and keep his eyes on the men.
    The boys slipped behind the big
tree and began retreating down the slope looking for better cover. Roger looked
around. There were no large trees for ten metres, just lots of small saplings,
then a wall of wait-a-while. He heard Stephen break a twig and turned to shake
his head and gave the signal to get down.
    After another anxious look around
for better cover Roger crouched behind the biggest tree. This had a small
prickly palm at its base which gave some extra cover. He felt sure the men
hadn’t seen them because they had been searching the ground.
    As he crouched there Roger
noticed that the tree had a thick layer of moss growing on it and a small liana
wound twice round it. He crouched, peering through the palm fronds, and tried
to control his trembling.
    For a time he couldn’t see the
men but then he heard