Behind Mt. Baldy

by Christopher Cummings

  The road wound around several curves and continued to climb for half a kilometre. To Roger’s intense relief he saw sunlight ahead on a level space. Here a side road went off to the right and the main road doubled sharply back on itself to the left.

  “The Python Road,” Peter said.

  Graham nodded. “That’s the one we went down to get to the lake during the exercise last year.” The friends briefly discussed the exercise while they paused to get their breath back and to have a drink. Then they resumed marching along the main road.

  The road ran almost level along the crest of a ridge. The ground dropped away steeply on either side. Large trees again formed a cool tunnel of shade. Roger wanted to ask for a halt to catch his breath but kept silent. Slowly his breathing slowed to near normal and the sweat began to chill on his soaked shirt.

  From time to time Roger got a glimpse out through the trees of other jungle covered ridges and of distant mountains but he didn’t have the energy to pull out his map all the time in the way Peter and Graham did. He had faith they wouldn’t get lost. They were good at navigation. Roger felt a twinge of envy. ‘They are good at lots of things. And they aren’t all pudgy and unfit!’ he thought wistfully.

  Graham called to the others. “There’s that old timber road we followed last year when we went to capture the fort.”

  Roger looked up and saw an overgrown logging track going up a rise on the left. It vanished into the forest. The main road went right, snaking around the side of a steep hill with moss covered cuttings on the left and a drop into the green tangle on the right. The rainforest down there looked most uninviting.

  Once again the others halted to wait for Roger. He wasn’t far behind so they said nothing but the looks on their faces hurt. Roger pursed his lips and forced himself to walk faster.

  The road curved left, then right, then left. As they trudged around that curve Roger thought his heart was going to stop. He found he was walking in a state of such mental turmoil that later he could only remember snippets.

  There was the black car!

  And not two men in black with guns but four!

  The men were standing in a group looking at a map spread on the bonnet of a red and white 4WD. Two of the men were the pair they had met previously. Another had a round face and glasses and had a shotgun slung over his shoulder. The fourth was much older with a hard, hatchet face and close-cropped grey hair.

  At that moment the man with the glasses saw them. He gave a guilty start, (or was that just imagination?) and went to unsling the gun. All the others turned in surprise and Roger saw the blond man put a hand out to stop the man with the glasses. He shook his head and said something but the boys were still too far away to hear.

  Roger felt an urge to turn and run. Instead he just plodded on behind the others. He wanted to call out to Graham to tell him to act naturally but by then they were too close.

  He found himself muttering “act naturally, act naturally!” and had to make a conscious effort to will himself do so. He didn’t know whether to look at the men or not but found it impossible to look away.

  Graham waved. “G’day. How’s it goin’?” he called to the men. Roger was filled with admiration for the tone of breezy nonchalance Graham used - or did he not understand the situation! These are the killers! And there are four of them - with guns, or at least two had them. The older man and blondie appeared unarmed.

  The older man wore knee length leather boots, obviously highly polished despite a sheen of dust. The men looked hard at the boys and for a moment, as they came up to them, Roger feared ... he didn’t know what. He just feared!

  Then the blond man gave a smile and said, “Hello boys. How goes the hike? It is hot is it not, ja?”

  “Too bloody hot!” Graham replied with a grin.

  “Nefer mind. It is down der hill from here,” the man said.

  By then the boys were level with them. To Roger’s intense relief Graham didn’t stop. As he passed the men Roger managed a feeble grin but he was panting for breath and his heart seemed to be hammering at a hundred times his normal rate.

  The one called Bruno said something in the foreign language and the other three laughed. It was an unpleasant sound and Roger felt a flush of embarrassment and anger. He was sure they were laughing at him.

  Graham just kept on walking. The road had a couple of curves in it but not enough to hide them from the men for several hundred metres. There had been a spur on the right with a timber track along it where the men were parked but after that there were high cuttings on the left and a steep drop on the right.

  “Keep walking, act normal!” Roger whispered urgently. He was managing to keep up with the others.

  “Calm down Roger,” Peter called back. Stephen turned his head to look back.

  “Don’t look back,” Roger hissed.

  They trudged on. The road began to go slowly downhill. At a sharp bend to the left Roger risked a glance. The men were out of sight.

  “Stop here! They can’t see us now,” he called.

  The others stopped and turned to face him.

  “It’s them!” Roger gasped.

  Peter grinned. “No!”

  “Don’t clown Peter! It’s those men. And did you see? All in black, and with guns. We’ve got to tell the Inspector!”

  “Calm down Roger,” Graham said. “How are we going to tell the Inspector?”

  “By telephone?”

  Graham shrugged and gestured at the surrounding jungle. “It’s a fair way to the nearest phone.”

  “How far?” Roger demanded.

  Graham looked at his map. “Five or six kilometres. Not till we get out of the Danbulla State Forest.”

  Roger’s heart sank. Then he brightened. “There must be one back at the Forestry barracks.”

  “Sure to be. But how are you going to get back there? Are you going to cut through the jungle on a compass course or walk back past those men?” Graham asked.

  “Is it far?” Roger asked.

  Graham again studied the map. “No. Only about a kilometre in a straight line.”

  Roger bent to look at the map. “Where are we?”

  Graham indicated their location. Roger bit his lip, then said, “See how the road wriggles around this hill next to us. Couldn’t we cut across back onto the road there?” He pointed to where he meant.

  Stephen cut in. “This is stupid. Come on. Let’s go on with our hike. We’re behind time already.”

  Roger turned to him in surprise. “But Steve we’ve got to tell the police.”

  “We already have. They’ve got their car number. They’ll get them. Let’s get out of here.” Stephen turned to keep walking.

  “No!”

  Roger was adamant. He stood there trembling with excitement and dripping sweat. “We’ve got to tell the police.”

  Graham met Peter’s eye and nodded. “Roger’s right Steve.”

  Stephen stopped and turned back. “Well you bloody well tell them. I’m sick of this. I just want to get on with the hike!”

  “Not so loud,” Graham cautioned. “Keep your voice down.”

  Stephen sneered. “You’re as bad as Roger. You think those men murdered that man too.”

  “As a matter of fact I do,” Graham replied evenly.

  Peter interposed. “They do look mighty fishy. Or I mean like fish out of water. What are they doing here, in the middle of the jungle?”

  “Probably just stealing orchids from the Sate Forest!” Stephen snapped.

  “Or looking for someone else to shoot?” Peter said.

  Roger shivered. The blond man certainly looked like he was capable of shooting someone, and so did Bruno.

  “We’ve got to do something,” he urged.

  “Yes, but what?” Graham asked.

  Peter spoke first. “We could start by having a look at what they are up to.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Graham cried. “We could sneak back through the jungle and watch them.”

&n
bsp; Roger went cold with fright at the thought of that but felt his whole being concentrated on the desire to do just that. “What about telling the police?” he asked.

  “Let’s have something to tell them first,” Peter said.

  “Couldn’t we do both?” Stephen asked. “Two go to watch and two go to get the police?”

  Graham hesitated. Then he shook his head. “No. Better if we all stick together.”

  “Remember what happened when we split up at Stannary Hills that time,” Peter said.

  “Don’t remind me!” Roger cried. He went cold at the memory. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

  Graham grabbed Roger’s arm. “Hang on. Let’s plan this.” He studied his map. “We will get off the road here and go up to the top of this hill and dump our packs. It isn’t far.”

  “Come on. Let’s go. I want to know what these men are up to,” Roger urged.

  Graham turned, looked back along the road, then led the way to where the end of a cutting allowed them to get off the road. Compass and secateurs in hand he led the way up into the jungle.

  CHAPTER 8

  ROGER IS DETERMINED

  Roger found the slope much steeper than he expected. He and his friends had to grab at trees to help haul themselves up the first twenty metres. The jungle wasn’t too thick but there were still enough small trees and vines to impede their movement and to catch on their packs and equipment. It was also very dry so the leaves and deadfall underfoot rustled and crackled.

  After about a hundred paces Graham stopped. The hill still went on up. “We’d better dump our gear. We are making too much noise,” he whispered as the other closed up on him.

  Roger looked around. He could not see the crest of the hill but he could just see the road down on their left. He felt a worry that was almost a physical itch - that the men would drive off before they got there.

  They took off their packs. Stephen dropped his with a thud and earned a glare from Graham and Roger.

  “What about our basic webbing?” Peter asked.

  Graham hesitated, then said, “Better leave that too.”

  “That’s against Captain Conkey’s orders,” Stephen reminded.

  The rule in their unit was that cadets in the bush always had a map, matches, water and one meal. That meant basic webbing. This was basic safety in case they got lost or injured.

  Graham shook his head. “I know. But it’s more important we don’t make a noise and aren’t seen. Those blokes have got guns don’t forget.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Stephen said, looking a bit pale. He was remembering not only the body they’d fished out of the lake but the kid he’d seen shot by a .22 in a gang fight two years earlier.

  Roger was remembering the same incident but he was so excited he pushed it to the side of his consciousness. His whole being seemed to be tingling. As he unbuckled his webbing he asked. “What’s the plan?”

  Graham pointed. “We will just creep along the side of the hill where we can see the road until we can get a look,” he said.

  “Should we all go?” Stephen asked. “Won’t four make more noise?”

  Graham answered. “A bit more, but we are safer in a group. Come on. Have a big drink and let's move.”

  They began walking slowly along the side of the slope. Without their gear it was much easier to weave around obstacles and slip through between trees. Only their boots made a noise in the deadfall. Graham risked going fairly fast to begin with as they had two hundred metres to backtrack. They went down into a small re-entrant choked with ferns and wait-a-while and this took a couple of minutes to find a way around.

  As they went on around the slope they got a clear glimpse back along the road. To his consternation Roger saw the men open the doors of their vehicles and get in. Motors roared into life.

  “Blast! They’re going to drive off!” he hissed. The boys began to move as quickly as they could, knowing they would not be heard above the vehicle engine noises.

  For a moment a thick clump of undergrowth hid the vehicles from view. The sound of them moving off came clearly to them.

  “They’re not coming this way,” Peter said.

  The boys stopped to listen. The engines did not accelerate and there was no sound of gear changes but the noise began to get fainter. Graham and Roger both broke into a run, or as near a run as they could manage through the tangle of dry undergrowth. Graham leaped a fallen log blocking his path. Roger couldn’t clear it but sprang up onto it.

  Crack!

  The log snapped and Roger went sprawling into the leafmould. He swore and scrambled to his feet. By this he was so excited his vision seemed blurry. A thin vine at ankle height caught his left foot and he fell again, heavily this time, striking his face on a tree trunk. He felt blood rush in his nose but ignored it and sprang to his feet. Ahead was another dip, with thicker undergrowth. They crashed through this and up a slight rise.

  Graham suddenly stopped and lay down. Roger slowed and went forward at a crouching run and joined him. Peter and Stephen were still well behind them. Roger saw that he and Graham were on the edge of the cutting and could see down to where the vehicles had been parked.

  “Oh they’ve gone!” Roger wailed.

  “Shh! Listen,” Graham said. The sound of a motor came to them. “They’ve gone down that old timber track.”

  “Both of them?”

  Graham shrugged. “Don’t know. One for sure, the four wheel drive.”

  “What’s down there?” Roger asked.

  Peter and Stephen joined them. Graham pulled out his map and peered at it.

  “There’s no road marked,” he said.

  Roger leaned over to peer at the map. “Where are we?”

  “Here.” Graham put his finger on the map.

  “None of the timber snig tracks are marked,” Peter said.

  “It must run down this spur line.” Graham traced it with his finger. It was one of about five roughly parallel ridges which ran south from the main ridge to end in an arm of Lake Tinaroo. The whole area was a network of small creeks and covered in rainforest.

  “What on earth are they doing down there?” Peter asked.

  “Hiding something?” Graham suggested.

  “Looking for treasure,” Roger answered with conviction.

  Stephen snorted. “Treasure! Your imagination’s taken over Roger,” he commented as he turned to laugh at him. Then his expression changed to concern. “Jeez Roger! You’ve got blood everywhere.”

  Roger put his hand to his nose and it came away covered in blood. He realised it was trickling down his chin and red droplets were spattering on the dead leaves. He pulled out a handkerchief. “It’s OK,” he said. “It’s only a blood nose. I tripped. What will we do now?”

  “First we will check if both cars went down the track. Then we should tell the police,” Graham replied.

  “Here comes a car,” Peter cautioned. They listened to an approaching vehicle. A white Landcruiser came into view from the west and drove straight past.

  “Just tourists,” Peter observed as the vehicle went out of sight.

  By this time Roger had staunched the flow of blood. He pulled out his water bottle and washed his face. His nose now felt all stuffed up and his handkerchief was a bloody mess. A few drops still trickled and dripped and he could taste the blood on his lips and at the back of his throat. He ignored it.

  “Come on,” he said, leading the way down onto the road.

  The four walked quickly but cautiously forward to where the vehicles had been parked. Roger stopped, looked down the side track then scanned the ground. “Both vehicles have gone down there,” he murmured, pointing to where the wheel tracks showed in the dust.

  “I wonder if they dropped anything else?” Peter asked.

  Their eyes quartered the ground. There was nothing. Roger walked across to get a better look down the side road. It went gently downhill along the spine of the ridge but curved to the left fifty metres on. There was no-one in
sight and no sound. He began walking down it.

  “Roger! Where are you going?” Stephen called after him.

  Roger turned and hissed furiously. “Ssh! They’ll hear you. I’m going to see what they’re up to.”

  “Don’t be a fool! What about our hike?” Stephen replied angrily.

  “Bugger the hike. It can wait. This is more important,” Roger replied.

  “Shouldn’t we go and tell the police?” Peter temporised.

  “Tell them what? We haven’t seen what these blokes are up to,” Roger replied.

  Graham looked at his watch. “Two o’clock. We should be getting on,” He said. Then he added, “Besides, I’m not at all keen to go looking for armed men in the jungle.”

  To Roger it appeared that Graham’s sense of responsibility was warring with his spirit of adventure. “Just a little look,” Roger replied.

  “We promised Captain Conkey we’d keep out of trouble,” Graham replied. “I’m the senior don’t forget and I’m responsible for your safety.”

  “Why don’t two of us stay here and watch while two walk back to the Forestry Barracks to contact the police?” Peter suggested.

  Graham hesitated. He bit his lip in indecision.

  “I’ll stay and watch,” Roger said.

  “So will I,” Stephen replied.

  Graham gave in. “Alright. Pete and I will go back. If we don’t meet you here then we will RV on top of the hill where our gear is. And for God’s sake don’t let them see you.”

  “We won’t. Get going. Hurry up,” Roger replied.

  Graham and Peter turned and set off at a brisk walk. Stephen turned to Roger. “Where will we hide, up on the bank?”

  “I’m going to follow this track for a bit, just to see where it leads,” Roger replied.

  “Roger! You said we would hide and watch.”

  “I will too. I don’t want to be seen,” Roger replied. He glanced around. Graham and Peter had vanished from sight. ‘It will take them about twenty minutes to reach the Forestry Barracks, so I have perhaps twice that long,’ he calculated. Now he was gripped by an intense curiosity. ‘I just have to know!’ he told himself. After a check of his watch he started walking cautiously along the track.