Leopard Adventure

by Anthony McGowan

  ANTHONY McGOWAN

  Illustrated by Nelson Evergreen

  PUFFIN

  Contents

  Map

  1. A Big Beast in a Bad Mood

  2. The Climb

  3. New Friends

  4. Amazon Tastes the High Life

  5. Bluey

  6. Making TRACKS

  7. The Grand Tour

  8. Frazer’s New Toy

  9. Cowgirl Amazon

  10. A Sticky Situation

  11. Frazer’s Shot

  12. The Mission

  13. Siberia Bound

  14. A Hairy Flight

  15. Meeting the Team

  16. Setting Free the Sables

  17. Frazer Attacked!

  18. The House of Makha

  19. The Rescue Plan

  20. ‘I’ll Take My Chances with the Tigers’

  21. Terror in the Night

  22. Frazer vs the Tiger

  23. The Old Hunter

  24. Frazer’s Bluff

  25. A Dinner of Dog

  26. Amba!

  27. Gearing Up

  28. The Journey to the Boats

  29. A River Cruise – and a Crash!

  30. Frazer Gets the Blame

  31. How (Not) to Start a Fire

  32. The Journey Resumes

  33. Amba, Again

  34. The Party Splits Up

  35. The Leopardess

  36. Into the Forest’s Heart

  37. I’m Still Falling

  38. The Travellers’ Rest

  39. The Biggest Weasels in the World

  40. At the Kill

  41. The Brown Giant

  42. The Camp

  43. The Story of the Killer Bear

  44. Bear and Tiger

  45. The Night in the Forest

  46. Amba Returns

  47. The Signal

  48. Tiger Attack!

  49. A Nasty Surprise

  50. In the Belly of the Beast

  51. Dersu’s Story

  52. A Return and a Discovery

  53. Boris is Back

  54. Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair

  55. Kirov’s Camp

  56. Blip!

  57. Old Friends

  58. Out of the Frying Pan …

  59. Frazer’s Chance

  60. When the Stars Threw Down Their Spears and Watered Heaven with Their Tears

  61. Rescued

  62. A New Tracker … and an Old Enemy

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Anthony McGowan is a multi-award-winning author of books for adults, teenagers and younger children. He has a lifelong obsession with the natural world, and has travelled widely to study and observe it.

  Books by Anthony McGowan

  Leopard Adventure

  This book is dedicated

  to the great Willard Price himself,

  adventurer and storyteller

  The giant forest hog was a quarter of a tonne of angry pig you really wouldn’t want to mess with. Two great tusks curved up from its top jaw, and two more jutted out from the bottom. A giant forest hog in a good mood could be a dangerous beast. In a bad mood it was lethal: those tusks could open up and empty out a human stomach like a tin of beans.

  And this giant forest hog was in a very bad mood. Its little piggy eyes were staring short-sightedly at Amazon Hunt. It snorted twice with a noise like a backfiring car, and then it charged.

  What on earth am I doing here? thought Amazon, not for the first time over the past few days. She was a long way from home, and her only chance of survival lay in the hands of her thirteen-year-old cousin who, quite frankly, couldn’t shoot to save his own life, never mind hers.

  Amazon’s adventure had begun three days earlier and thousands of miles away.

  She was craning her neck to look up at her open bedroom window, on the third floor of the dormitory block of Millbank Abbey, an English boarding school deep in the Sussex countryside. A tough climb, she thought, but not impossible.

  Unless, of course, you had a secret fear of heights.

  Amazon had missed her curfew again. She had been in the woods next to the school grounds, watching a family of badgers playing outside their sett. She was so engrossed in the way the little ones had fought and rolled in the dry leaves that she had completely lost track of time. She’d thought about making a dash for it through the ornate front door of the school, but if she were caught again it would be the end. The headmistress, that sour-faced old dragon, Miss Pettifer, had said that one more ‘episode’, and she would be confined to the creepy old building for the whole summer, and that she really couldn’t bear. An ‘episode’ could be anything from wearing a skirt that was too short to blowing up half the chemistry lab, even though that had been an accident. Sort of …

  It was bad enough that she was the only girl spending the summer holidays at Millbank. She’d had to wave off all her friends as they were collected by their parents, and then go back alone to the empty, echoing dorm. Sometimes she wished her parents’ lives were a bit less … interesting, then hers might not be quite so boring.

  So she started to climb. The first part was easy enough – there was an old iron drainpipe attached to the wall by thick brackets, which made excellent hand and footholds for her strong fingers and nimble feet. Soon she was up to the first-floor level.

  Then she looked down.

  Mistake.

  Instantly her head began to spin. She thought for a moment that she might actually puke, which added a whole layer of grossness on top of the wobbling jelly of her fear, making the world’s nastiest trifle. She breathed deeply, swallowed hard and got a grip on her insides before reaching for the next hold. A minute later she reached the second floor. Her arms were beginning to ache, so she took a rest. This time she didn’t look down. But she did wonder what would happen if she fell.

  Sprained ankle?

  Broken leg?

  Broken neck?

  She knew that this was reckless, but also that it would now be just as difficult to climb back down as to go on. Hadn’t she read somewhere that most mountaineering accidents happen when the climbers are on the way down?

  She gulped, and climbed again. She was there, so nearly there. The open window called to her in a sweet, soft voice. But it was now that the fatal flaw in her plan became evident: somehow she had to get from the drainpipe to the window ledge.

  She stretched out her hand. She could just touch the corner of the ledge with her fingertips. It wasn’t enough. She was going to have to jump. She thought again about the drop; about the horror as she fell through the air; about the agonizing crunch at the bottom.

  But Amazon, despite her phobia, was no coward. She tensed her muscles and leapt sideways across the face of the wall.

  It was a good jump.

  She was going to make it.

  Her fingers found the window ledge, and gripped. But the plaster was old and crumbly. To Amazon’s dismay she found that her fingers were slipping. She scrabbled vainly at the ledge. She was falling. She tried to dig her nails into the very wall itself, but it was no good. It flaked away and took her hopes with it.

  She thought, briefly, about screaming. But she wasn’t a screaming sort of a girl.

  Her final thoughts were of her mum and dad, how she wished that she could see them again, one last time …

  And then came a jolt as a hand closed round her wrist. She gasped in amazement, and looked up. Leaning out of the window was a kid with messy, floppy hair. His grey eyes looked vaguely familiar, although she was sure she’d never met him before.

  ‘Hi, cuz,’ he said. ‘Call me old-fashioned, but I always say you can’t beat the door for, you know, getting in and out of a room.’

  The boy tugged, and Amazon
somehow found a toehold in the ancient brickwork. As soon as she got her knees up on to the window ledge, Amazon shook off the kid’s hand.

  ‘Who the heck are you?’ she said in a voice that wasn’t far short of a snarl.

  ‘Hey, Amazon by name, Amazon by nature,’ said the kid, still grinning.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she snapped.

  ‘Just saying, you know, cool Greek girl warriors … you climbing up the wall like Spider-Man, an’ all.’

  ‘I know who the flaming Amazons were. But you still haven’t told me who you are.’

  The grin grew even wider. ‘I’m your cousin, Frazer Hunt. And I think that maybe I just saved your neck. If I hadn’t looked out –’

  ‘I was fine. I’d have made it,’ lied Amazon. She knew that she had a cousin called Frazer, though she’d never met him. Just then she noticed another figure standing in the shadows. ‘Who’s this guy?’

  The figure stepped forward. He was tall, but stooping, wore rimless glasses and was almost completely bald. He held out his hand.

  ‘Doctor John Drexler. Pleased to meet you.’

  Amazon didn’t take the hand. She was still suspicious. She’d been taken by surprise, and that was one thing she didn’t like.

  ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘I think I’d rather explain when we’re safely airborne,’ said Dr Drexler. ‘And we really must hurry if we’re to make that flight.’

  ‘Airborne? Flight? What is this? Where are we going?’

  ‘Well, to New York and then the TRACKS base on Long Island. Your uncle, Hal, awaits, and your mother and father should have arrived by the time we get there.’

  ‘Mum and Dad? What are they doing there? And I can’t just leave … Miss Pettifer – she’ll never allow it.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ came a sharp voice, and Amazon spun round to see the equally sharp face of Miss Pettifer, who had bustled into the now rather crowded room. ‘I have received an email from your parents. You are to leave with these people.’

  Miss Pettifer didn’t try to hide her distaste. In fact, as Amazon guessed, she was torn between relief at getting rid of Amazon (whose fees had already been paid, without the option of a refund), and her annoyance that it should occur in such an unusual way.

  ‘Can I see the email?’ Amazon asked.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Miss Pettifer frostily. ‘Here is a printout.’

  She handed Amazon an A4 sheet of paper. The message was in two parts. The first was addressed to Miss Pettifer from Amazon’s mother, Ling-Mei, and simply informed her that Amazon would not be staying for the summer. The second part was addressed to Amazon.

  It read:

  Darling Amazon,

  Your father and I have had to cut short our expedition to Alaska. We have come across some very important information, and need to discuss the issue with your uncle, Hal. We think it best if you come to meet us at the old ranch on Long Island where your father was brought up, and from where Hal now runs his animal rescue organization. Hal is sending one of his assistants, Dr Drexler, along with his son, your cousin Frazer, to collect you. I don’t want to sound too mysterious, but I really can’t tell you any more about this until we meet you on Long Island.

  Lots of love,

  Mum (and Dad says don’t eat too many olives on the plane!)

  That certainly rang true. Amazon’s strangely adult taste for black olives was a standing joke in the family.

  She looked again at the people in the room. Frazer had a face it was hard not to like, even if you were naturally a little suspicious of people, as was Amazon. Dr Drexler was trickier to read, but he seemed harmless enough. And then there was Miss Pettifer with her cat’s-bum mouth. That, at least, was one very good reason to get out of this place.

  But even more than the joy of escaping from Miss Pettifer, Amazon was excited about seeing her mum and dad. They had been away on some mysterious expedition for four months, and in all that time she had only had one hurried phone call, cut short when the satellite link had gone down. And secretly she was excited about what, in her heart of hearts, she knew was going to be an adventure.

  ‘Just give me five minutes to pack,’ she said.

  At this same moment, five thousand miles away, a mother Amur leopard, one of the rarest big cats in the world, was sniffing the air suspiciously.

  It should have been a good time. The two cubs had fed on her rich milk, and they now wormed their way cosily into her thick fur.

  But she was worried. There were only two animals she feared. The first were humans with their killing sticks that made the noise of thunder. The second was the tiger. Humans had been in the woods with dogs. And she had smelled the strong odour of a big male tiger two days ago.

  But something else was coming, something that was faster than any human, more deadly than a tiger. Something that would find her even in the deepest den.

  Again she sniffed. A memory stirred. Carefully, she picked up both of her cubs. They mewled and complained in their sleepy way. She ignored their cries and prowled away silently through the thick undergrowth.

  She could not have known that as she was moving away from her fear, she was walking right into a trap.

  Three hours later, Amazon was sitting in the luxury of first class, with her cousin Frazer on one side and Dr Drexler on the other. They were 35,000 feet above the Atlantic.

  Her parents didn’t have much money to spare. Almost every penny left over from their environmental work went on her boarding-school fees, so this was the first time she had flown in anything other than the cheapest seats. She felt like a princess sitting on a throne. And they had four different kinds of olives, which they’d bring you whenever you asked!

  But despite the comfort and luxury – or maybe even because of them – she was still troubled and confused. Something about this just didn’t make sense to Amazon. Her father, Roger Hunt, had fallen out with his brother, Hal, years before. As far as she knew, they hadn’t spoken a word since she was a baby. What could be so important that they had arranged this family reunion?

  If only her parents had written more in that email …

  She looked over at Frazer. He was eating pretzels and playing with his new toy: a cool little Leica digital camera that cost so much you’d think it was made of solid gold. She was beginning to like him, but she didn’t think he was the one to answer her questions. She turned to Dr Drexler, who was reading a magazine called The Journal of Veterinary Science.

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘My mum and dad are definitely waiting for me on Long Island?’

  Dr Drexler put down the magazine, and looked at her over the top of his reading glasses.

  ‘That is my, ah, expectation. They sent a message, letting your uncle Hal know that they had something of vital importance to tell him. They added that you should be brought over to the TRACKS HQ as well. But they had not yet arrived when Frazer and I set off.’

  Dr Drexler said ‘ah’ quite a lot, as if he were always searching for exactly the right word. It fitted in with his general fussy appearance. He had the cleanest nails Amazon had ever seen.

  ‘Why didn’t they just come and get me?’

  ‘It wasn’t possible. They were flying in directly from … well, I’m not quite sure which far-flung part of the world …’ Dr Drexler chuckled a little nervously, or so Amazon thought. He took a sip of the dry martini that had been served to him by an elegant, smiling stewardess. ‘Tell me, Amazon, what do you know about Hal Hunt’s organization?’

  ‘We’re called TRACKS,’ cut in Frazer. ‘I helped come up with the name. It stands for … hold on, let me get this right, the Trans-Regional Animal Conservation and Knowledge Society. I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, but all the really snappy names had already been taken, and there were copyright issues to think about. Anyway, like I said, we just call it TRACKS, and we are the Trackers. Pretty cool, huh?’

  Amazon made a non-committal hummmph noise. ‘I’ve heard my pare
nts talking about it. They say it’s a big organization supposedly set up to help animals, but –’

  ‘Supposedly?’

  ‘Yeah, well, my dad says that you take money from millionaires and big business, and they sure don’t have a good record for caring about the environment. My dad says that Uncle Hal sold out, that he abandoned all his old ideals. And,’ she added, looking rather guiltily at her olive, ‘I dread to think what he’d say about flying first class like this. I mean, shouldn’t the money be spent on something more … important?’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ exclaimed Frazer. ‘This airline is one of our corporate sponsors, so we get the flights for nothing. Dad couldn’t do all the cool stuff he does without the money he drags in.’

  Dr Drexler patted the boy’s arm. ‘That’s OK, Frazer. Amazon doesn’t know the truth about us yet. She’ll come to appreciate our work when she gets to know us a little better.’ He turned back to Amazon. ‘Let me try to give you a more, ah, realistic picture of our organization and what we do. As I’m sure you know, Hal Hunt is one of the most respected conservationists and animal experts in the world. He set up what was to become TRACKS with your father, Roger, twenty years ago.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, but my dad walked out because of all the interference from the guys in suits.’

  ‘As you say,’ Dr Drexler carried on patiently, ‘your father left the organization at an early stage. There were differences about the way we should do things, but no real argument about the underlying purpose. TRACKS is dedicated to providing state-of-the-art training and resources to young conservationists. The, ah, Trackers act as a flying squad, ready to take off at a moment’s notice to rescue wild animals in danger wherever they may be. Of course most of the team are over eighteen, but Frazer here has already helped out on a couple of missions. That right, ah, Fraze?’

  Frazer blushed, but still looked pretty pleased. ‘Yeah, I guess, sorta. Cos of my dad. Mainly I just take photos, you know, recording the work.’ He held up the camera for Amazon to admire. ‘Got this baby to help me out when I didn’t want to carry anything bigger.’