Forest Spirit by David Laing Page A

Jars?’
    â€˜I’m not sure, but it was late.’
    â€˜That’s strange. Why on earth would anyone be prowling around here at that time of night?’
    â€˜Don’t forget the lights we saw last night, Dad,’ Snook said. ‘Whoever was wandering around in the forest was more than likely our visitors.’
    His dad thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. There’s not much we can do about it though, except let Reg Carter know. Now go and fetch Quenton, wherever he is.’
    SignaIling that the subject was closed, he tousled Snook’s hair. ‘Tell him breakfast will soon be on the go.’
    â€˜There’s one thing for sure,’ Snook added. ‘I don’t think we should spend another night out here.’ He prodded Jars on the arm. ‘What do you reckon? Makes you feel a bit uneasy, don’t it?’
    â€˜It’s another mystery, Snook. One we can do without, I think.’
    Snook’s dad interrupted. ‘Let’s not worry too much about it though. We’ll get out of here straight after breakfast. We’ll take everything with us. It won’t take long to pack up.’
    Quenton, who had been peering at them from behind the tent, made a beeline for Jim, who had gone to collect some food from the esky.
    After a short while, Jim, arms laden with bread, eggs and bacon, walked over and placed the food on an old card table. Quenton was with him.
    He straightened and called out to Snook and Jars, who were placing a steel hotplate on the fire, which was now glowing with red embers. ‘Snook, go and get the butter and some oil for the barbeque plate. And Jars, you come with me.’ He walked some distance from the fire, then turned and faced her.
    Jars knew something was wrong. Her uncle’s cheeks had turned to a crimson colour again; his lips were pressed tightly together and his brow was furrowed. She raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s the matter, Uncle Jim?’
    Somewhere in the distance, a cockatoo screeched, and smoke drifted across from the fire; it curled around her, stinging her eyes. She couldn’t help noticing Quenton. He was looking their way with what looked like a satisfied smile on his lips.
    â€˜We have some things to discuss,’ her uncle said, his words clipped.
    Jars could hardly believe it; she was in trouble again. She did not know how or why, but she suspected Quenton Quigley somehow had a hand in it. As her uncle started to outline her latest ‘misdoing’, she knew she had guessed correctly.
    Afterwards, she returned to where Snook was busy frying the eggs and making toast. He stopped what he was doing when he saw her arrive. ‘What’s the matter now? Don’t tell me you got another telling off?’
    Jars sat on a nearby log. ‘Yes, I did.’
    Snook shrugged, then carried on with his cooking.
    She wiped her eyes, watching Snook at work, still hearing her uncle’s words. ‘It’s not good enough. First, you go wandering off … and now you play a stupid trick on Quenton with a lizard, for goodness sake. So, you just listen to me young lady. Your aunt and I have given you a new home, a new beginning for that matter, and we expect you to toe the line. We certainly do not expect the behaviour you have displayed so far, so …’
    Quenton sidled over towards Snook and took out some bread from its plastic bag. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll finish making the toast. I’m good at that.’
    Jars watched them. So, she thought, Quenton’s done it again. Made me look bad. But why? Sighing, she pushed herself up from the log. Why does he do this? What have I done to him?
    Jim returned to the fire. He grabbed a plate and squatted next to Snook and Quenton. Quenton handed him some toast then flipped an egg onto his plate. He beamed. ‘Good job, boys.’ He glanced towards Jars, then turned his back and walked over to a log, where he sat