The Quicksand Pony by Alison Lester Page A

all the way back, but the heavy sand of the dunes slowed him to a walk. He was angry with Biddy for not being where he’d left her, but at the same time he felt sick with worry. What could have made the horses bolt like that? As he ran, he faltered at every bend, half expecting to find Biddy lying crumpled around the turn, but it hadn’t happened. She must have stuck on. He looked down to the beach where Lorna was holding the three horses beside the ute. Gordon and Blue were streaked with dried sweat. They must have been going like the wind.
    â€˜Is she all right?’ he called. Lorna cupped her hand to her ear. Dave raced down the dune in giant sliding steps and ran towards her. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked again, trying to see past the horses, into the ute. Grandpa was sitting in the passenger seat with his arm hooked over the door. Dave could almost see Biddy sitting there beside him.
    Lorna stepped in front of him. ‘What do you mean?’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Biddy’s not here. I thought she was with you. The horses came back alone.’
    Dave couldn’t take it in. He pushed past her and peered through the open window. There was nothing on the seat but the thermos.
    â€˜So you’ve never been anywhere but the headland?’ Biddy sucked her fingers clean and put the last rabbit bone on the pile beside her. She was saving them for Devil.
    Joe hugged his knees. ‘No. This is it. Mum always said there were too many bad people. My dad got killed in the town.’
    Biddy had to lean forward to hear his voice above the crackle of the fire. ‘I know. I know that story from Irene.’ She had told Joe that his cousin was her best friend. ‘But you musn’t think that would happen again. Most people are kind, like us.’
    Bella was cadging damper from Joe, reaching over to pick the pieces from his lap. Joe leaned against her, his eyes closed. He looked so tired, thought Biddy, so small and tired. ‘Are you scared?’ she asked. ‘I mean about the town. You are going to come back with me, aren’t you?’
    Joe nodded and looked into the fire. ‘I’ve been following you all the time. I was going to talk to you the night before last, but I wanted to get my things. I thought your mum and dad mightn’t let me come back. Then I missed you yesterday— Hey! I just remembered something.’ He darted into his house. Biddy couldn’t get used to the way he moved so fast and silently. ‘Look!’ He came out wearing her beanie. ‘I found this on the beach.’
    â€˜Hey! My hat! Thanks, Joe.’ She went to grab it, but he skipped out of her reach.
    â€˜Finders keepers. That’s what Jozz used to say.’
    Biddy chased him around the fire, first one way and then the other. She had no hope of catching him; he was as fast and slippery as an eel. She plopped onto her log, panting and laughing. ‘I give in. You can keep it.’
    â€˜No, I was only playing,’ Joe wrapped the hat around a stick and tossed it across the fire to Biddy, but before she could catch it, a yellow shape—an animal—flashed past and the hat was gone. Biddy screamed. Joe hurried around the fire to her. ‘It’s okay. That was Devil. He couldn’t help himself. His favourite game is keepings-off.’
    Biddy stirred. She and Joe were curled together under the rabbit-skin rug, but something was waking her. Something was tickling her face. She opened her eyes and froze. A pair of amber eyes stared at her from the edge of the bed. ‘Hello, Devil,’ Biddy whispered. The dingo dropped the hat onto the bed, then settled beside the door. He gave Biddy a friendly look, and rested his head on his paws. ‘Goodnight, Devil. Nice to meet you,’ she said softly. Then she, too, drifted back to sleep.

Irene shut the chook-house door, then peered into the dark to make sure the catch was secure. She heard a car pull