A similar conversation was taking place in the other tree, where Badger had come up with an idea that he was trying out on Will and Ben. “You see the grass round here,” he said, pointing at the expanse of grass and reeds that surrounded the trees.
Will looked at him wearily. “Yes, I see the grass. It’s just grass, you know. There’s lots of it.”
“It’s very dry,” said Badger.
“Yes, it’s dry,” Will agreed. “But so what?”
“Dry grass can catch fire,” said Badger.
Will said nothing at first. Then he realised what Badger was driving at. “Of course, burning grass would drive the crocs away … Yes, I see what you mean.” But almost immediately he shook his head. “We can’t start a bush fire, Badger. It’s … well, it’s just one of the worst things you can do. They can easily get out control and cause a lot of damage.”
“I know,” said Badger. “But this would just be a small fire. We’re surrounded by rivers and creeks, and the sea’s not too far away. There’s not much room for a fire like that to spread.”
“You can never be sure,” objected Will. “Bush fires can even jump over water – everybody knows that.”
Badger defended his plan. “But surely it’s all right if it’ll save your life,” he said. “If it’s the only way we can save ourselves, nobody would blame us.”
But Ben suddenly thought of a problem. “Has anybody got any matches?” he asked. “It’s all very well to talk about starting a fire, but has anybody got any matches?”
There was silence.
“I haven’t,” said Will.
“Neither have I,” said Badger.
“So I don’t see how we could start a fire anyway,” added Ben.
Then something occurred to Badger. He had seen a film about how to make a fire without matches. You rub two sticks together, using a small string bow to turn one of them. This can create enough heat to set tinder alight. Or you can concentrate the sun’s rays through a magnifying glass over some dry leaves and eventually set them alight. But if none of them had matches, then they were very unlikely to have string or a magnifying glass either.
As he was thinking about this, Badger noticed the binoculars that Ben had slung around his neck. They contained powerful lenses that perhaps could be used like a magnifying glass to start a fire.
“Ben,” he said quietly, “could you let me have your binoculars?”
Ben wondered why Badger should want to look through binoculars at a time like this, but he passed them over without comment. Badger took them and immediately began to unscrew one of the lenses.
“Careful,” said Ben. “Don’t drop them …”
He did not finish. Just as he was issuing his warning, Badger somehow fumbled his grip of the binoculars. One second they were firmly in his grasp; the next they were falling through the air to land with a thud right next to the crocodile. But the huge reptile appeared not to notice, and after a minute or two he moved his tail slightly, bringing it directly over the binoculars, hiding them completely from view.
Ben gasped and looked at Badger angrily. It is easy to get cross with other people when they do something foolish, but it is important to remember that everybody – and that means absolutely everybody – has made a mistake at some point in their lives. And once you remind yourself of that, it is easier to control any feelings of anger you might have.
“Oh, no,” cried Badger. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’ll try to get them back.”
“No, you won’t,” Will cut in firmly. “You wouldn’t last a second down there.”
The three boys were silent. The sheer awfulness of their situation was beginning to sink in: there they were, trapped by two of the most dangerous creatures on Earth. In due course, night would fall and what would happen then? Most people can stay awake late, perhaps as late as midnight, but eventually tiredness creeps up on you, making it more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. Drowsiness builds up, your muscles relax and you drift off to sleep. If that happened to Fee, Poppy, Ben, Badger and Will, they would lose grip of the branches, and the consequences of that were too terrible even to think about. They simply could not allow themselves to go to sleep.
It was now after midday. Overhead, the sun had reached its highest point and had begun its slow journey back down to the horizon. Will knew that they had about six hours of daylight left before nightfall. Looking down at the crocodile at the bottom of his tree, he wondered what was going on in the creature’s brain. He had been told that crocodiles did not have a large brain – that the crocodile skull was mostly bone. That might be true, he thought, but they were still capable of showing exceptional cunning in the way they hunted their prey. The crocodile probably knew very well that whatever climbed a tree was bound, sooner or later, to come down – driven by the desperation of thirst or the pangs of hunger, or brought down by the force of gravity when the task of holding on to a branch became too much. So the crocodile must know he would eventually win if he simply sat it out. And why would he not do that? He had nowhere else to go and not much else to do. Sitting at the bottom of a tree waiting for your next meal is a perfectly good way of spending your time if you are a crocodile.
Will wondered whether he might be able to divert the crocodiles’ attention in some way. When he had run for the sanctuary of the tree he had been wearing the backpack containing the medicines. He still had that with him, and he wondered whether he could throw it into the grass near the crocodiles. If they saw a large object falling from the tree, they might think it was something edible and slither off to investigate. That would give Will the chance to slip down the tree and run off for help. There was always a risk that the crocodiles might pursue him, but if they were busy investigating the backpack, he might just have the headstart needed to get away.
He explained his idea to Badger and Ben.
“But what if they just ignore the backpack?” asked Badger. “What then?”
Will shrugged. “No harm will be done,” he said. “If they pay no attention, then we stay here.”
“And that means we die,” said Ben.
The other two boys looked at him. “Don’t say that, Ben,” replied Badger. “Don’t give up.”
But Ben was struggling. He wanted to be brave; he wanted to act as if he were not afraid, but it was difficult. He knew, though, that he had to try. Mr Rigger had once said to him that if people start to go to pieces when they’re in a tight spot, it only makes matters worse. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t given up. We’ll get out of this – I’m sure we will.”
His positive tone almost convinced him, but there was still a tight knot of fear in his stomach. He said nothing more and managed a smile.
Will grinned in return. “Just think of the story we’ll be able to tell everybody,” he said. “Not many people can have been trapped up a tree by a salty.”
Just as Will was saying this, Ben noticed something out of the corner of his eye. When he realised just what it was, he almost fell out of the tree with surprise.
“Look,” he shouted. “Henry!”
Henry was at the edge of the grass surrounding the trees, walking slowly, as if he were not quite sure where he was going. His tail, though, was wagging enthusiastically, a little black aerial sticking up confidently behind him.
Badger was excited at first, as Henry’s arrival might mean that rescuers were not far behind. But then he remembered that Henry was officially lost and that there would be nobody with him.
Ben’s first thought was concern for the dog. Like all dogs, Henry had a powerful sense of smell, and it would not be long before he caught their scent and worked out where they were. And once that happened, he would be in as much, if not more, danger as they themselves were.
“Are crocodiles afraid of dogs?” Ben asked Will.
Will shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Crocodiles love dogs,” he said before quickly clarifying himself, “I mean, crocodiles love eating dogs.”
Ben looked over
towards Henry, who was now looking directly towards the trees. “He knows we’re here,” he said. “Oh no, look …”
Henry’s walk had become a trot, and he was now running straight towards the trees, his tail wagging even faster at the thought of being reunited with his friends.
By now Poppy and Fee had seen him too.
“Have you seen Henry over there?” Poppy called out.
“Yes,” shouted Will. “We must try and warn him. Those crocs will be after him once they smell him.”
“Henry!” Poppy called out. “Henry! Stop!”
Henry suddenly stopped in his tracks. This was not because he had heard Poppy shouting but because his nose had now told him of the presence of the crocodiles. For a few moments he stood stock still, even his tail now immobile. Then he lowered himself in the grass and began to creep up towards the reptiles.
“What’s he doing?” asked Fee.
“I think he’s stalking them,” answered Poppy.
“But they’re much bigger than he is,” said Fee. “And their jaws are much more powerful than his.”
“I know,” said Poppy. “But what can we do?”
There was nothing that any of them could do, so they all watched with bated breath. Nobody said anything until Will muttered under his breath, “I don’t believe it – I just don’t believe it.”
As Henry approached his quarry, the crocodiles suddenly stirred. They could not see very well through the thick grass, but when they eventually spotted Henry the effect was immediate. Slowly they rose, pulling their heavy bellies and tails off the ground as their small, clawed feet extended for movement. Then they began to move towards him, their bodies making a strange swishing sound as they moved through the grass.
Up in his tree, Ben caught his breath. He could hardly bring himself to watch what was happening. Henry stood no chance, he thought. There would be a dreadful moment when the first of the crocodiles got to him, then the whole thing would be over in a second.
But Ben was wrong. Henry was not a foolish dog – he knew very well that crocodiles were deadly dangerous. He understood too that if he attracted their attention, these great scaly creatures would be unable to resist the temptation to snatch a ready meal of delicious dog rather than wait for a less tasty people-snack to drop from a tree. As well as being intelligent, Henry was brave, and like any brave dog he was ready to take a risk if he felt his human friends were in danger.
Henry inched forward, the hair on the back of his neck raised in a tight, prickly ridge. As he moved, he growled, baring his teeth in defiance. Of course, his teeth were nothing compared with those of the crocodiles – great, yellowing fangs, each one capable of inflicting a terrible wound on whatever unfortunate creature came into contact with them.
As Henry moved forward, so did the crocodiles, and now there was barely any distance between them. Poppy held her breath; she could hardly bear to look at what she thought would be the inevitable result of this mismatched encounter.
Suddenly one of the crocodiles lunged forward, snapping its jaws in the air as it sought to cover the remaining ground between it and the growling dog. Had Henry been at all slow, that would have been the end of him. But he was not. Leaping up with a yelp, he turned tail and ran, pursued by the two angry crocodiles. He was much faster than they were, and as soon as he had reached a safe distance he stopped to look back at his pursuers, before running off again, all the while drawing the crocodiles further and further way from the trees.
Will knew instinctively what they had to do. “This is our chance,” he shouted. “Everybody climb down and follow me.”
He did not need to repeat the order. Shaking with a mixture of excitement and relief, Poppy slid down the trunk of her tree. She was soon joined on the ground by Fee, Badger and Ben. Then, following Will, they all ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction from that in which Henry had drawn the crocodiles.
“What about Henry?” panted Fee, glancing over her shoulder to see what was happening.
“He’ll be fine,” answered Poppy. “He’s smarter than those crocs. They won’t catch him.”
Will led them back to the path. It was getting late now, and he decided that there would not be time to get back to the beach by nightfall. It would be safer, he explained, to make their way to his village. They could go back to the beach the following day, when it would be much safer.
“We’ll be fine at my place,” he said to Poppy. “We can have something to eat and you can meet my folks.”
Poppy said that this sounded like a good idea, and Badger agreed. He was beginning to feel hungry and the thought of having a meal was an attractive one. It was certainly better than being a meal for a hungry crocodile.
There was great relief in the village at Will’s safe return, and a warm welcome for his new friends too, when they eventually arrived. Although Will knew his way about the bush, the villagers had been worried when he hadn’t returned the previous day and had even sent out a search party, which had been unable to find him. There had also been concern about the medicines. Had something happened to the plane that was bringing them? Had it crashed? Fortunately, all these worries could be dispelled.
As well as meeting Will’s parents, the visitors were taken to see the head of the village, an old man with a deep voice and a pair of bright, searching eyes. He listened as Will told him what had happened with the crocodiles. “You have to watch those fellows,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t get any second chances with them.”
Will’s mother prepared a meal that included all her son’s favourite dishes. After they had eaten, Will showed Poppy, Fee, Ben and Badger around, introducing them to his friends, who listened in both horror and relief to the story of their narrow escape. Then, as the sun slipped below the horizon and darkness embraced the land, Will led them to the house where they would spend the night. This belonged to the teacher at the settlement school, a kind woman who handed each of them a blanket and a pillow and found a spot for them to sleep. Poppy and Fee shared a floor in the storeroom, made comfortable with cushions from her living-room chairs. Ben and Badger slept on the veranda, on a couple of old sofas. From where they lay, they could look up at the night sky – a great field of stars stretching from one edge of the horizon to the other. Ben saw the Southern Cross, a constellation that has guided sailors for hundreds of years. Badger saw a shooting star, a meteorite, tracing a line of silver across the sky. He wanted to draw Ben’s attention to this, but exhaustion overtook him and he managed no more than a few mumbled words before his eyes closed and he slipped off to sleep.
Poppy could not get to sleep so easily. She was worried about Henry, whom nobody had seen since he had saved their lives earlier. They had been unable to go back to look for him: that would have exposed them once more to the crocodiles and would have been twice as dangerous in the dark. So they had had no alternative but to leave him behind, hoping that the brave and resourceful dog would be able to look after himself.
“Don’t worry too much about Henry,” Will said. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“But what if he gets lost again?” Poppy asked. “He could be lost in the bush forever.”
Will had assured her that this was unlikely. “He’ll be all right,” he said. “Dogs know how to look after themselves.”
Poppy hoped that Will was right, but that did not stop her worrying. At long last she fell asleep, only to have dreams in which Henry was in some sort of danger. These dreams were vivid and were made all the worse by the appearance of Hardtack and Shark. In one of them, the two boys were riding on crocodiles, having rigged up saddles and reins to make it possible for them to chase after Henry on the backs of the scaly monsters. It was a bad dream by any standards, and when she awoke, just as dawn was breaking, it was with a feeling of relief.
They did not linger over breakfast, but had a quick bowl of fruit and some bread that Will’s father had baked. Then they set off to get back to the beach, avoiding the area where they had seen
the crocodiles the previous day. If there are some experiences in life that you do not want to repeat, then being chased up a tree by a hungry saltwater crocodile must be high on the list. But although they all felt relieved that they were going back to the Tobermory, they were also anxious about what would happen on their return. Would they get into trouble for getting lost in the first place? Would a search party have been sent out? These were just two of the questions they asked themselves as they made the long journey to the beach, where, much to their surprise and joy, not to mention relief, Henry was waiting for them.
“Look!” shouted Poppy, her voice rising with excitement. “There’s Henry.”
Hearing her cry, Henry turned round and raced over the sand to greet them. Leaping into Poppy’s arms, he covered her face with wet dog kisses before wriggling out of her grasp to welcome the others with a similar show of affection. Everybody was laughing – with relief as much as with pleasure. Henry was safe. That was the best outcome anyone could have wished for.
But then they saw the liberty boat, with Mr Rigger and Miss Worsfold standing beside it, looking far from pleased.
“What on Earth have you been doing? Where have you been?” asked Miss Worsfold. “Don’t you realise that everyone’s been worried sick?”
For a few moments there was silence. Then Poppy explained. “It wasn’t our fault,” she said. “We were trapped by crocodiles.”
Miss Worsfold let out a gasp. “Crocodiles? You were in the water?”
“Up a tree,” said Badger.
Mr Rigger frowned. “Crocodiles up a tree?”
Badger laughed. “No, sir, we were in the trees and the crocodiles …”
“… were at the bottom of the trees,” continued Ben. “And then Henry came along and the crocodiles saw him and so we were able to …”
Fee took up the story. “. . . we were able to climb down the trees and run. Then we went to Will’s place because by then it was too late to come back here …”
The Race to Kangaroo Cliff Page 12