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.
“Roger!” Stephen hissed, fear evident on his face and in his voice.
“You stay here and hide if you want to,” Roger replied in an angry whisper. He wiped sweaty palms and swallowed. His throat felt suddenly dry. He knew he was scared. He also knew he was being stupid but he couldn’t stop himself. So he continued walking.
Stephen swore quietly and began to follow. They moved slowly and carefully, scouting as they had been trained to do. Their eyes searched through the undergrowth ahead, then flicked down to scan for dead sticks in their path. There was a fair amount of leaf-litter but otherwise the track was clear.
On either side of the track the ground dropped steeply away. Some of the jungle was very thick. In other places it was relatively open. Roger strained his ears but could only hear the normal jungle noises; wind in the leaves, an occasional bird, a few rustles in the leaves as lizards scurried away. The most obvious noise was his own heartbeat which seemed to boom like jungle drums. Roger swallowed. He was very scared. But he couldn’t turn and go back now. ‘Stephen will despise me even more if I do,’ he thought.
Off in the distance, in the direction they were heading, Cockatoos began their raucous screeching. The two boys stopped and looked at each other. Roger nodded with satisfaction. The men must have disturbed the birds.
Reassured, Roger went on, Stephen following reluctantly ten paces behind. The track curved left, then slightly uphill and back to the right. At the curve a side track went off to the left. Roger walked to it and looked.
This was an overgrown snig-track. It went downhill very steeply. Stephen joined him. “We’d better not get lost. We should make a sketch map,” he whispered.
Roger nodded. “I’ll scout. You make the map.”
Stephen agreed. As a sergeant he was better trained to do this. It was a skill Captain Conkey made the NCOs practise every year. He pulled out notebook and pencil then took compass bearings both ways along the main track then down the side track. After jotting these onto a rough sketch he moved to follow Roger.
Roger went on along the main track for another fifty paces. It continued to climb gently and curve back to the left. As he reached the bend he froze. His heart thumped wildly and he had to force himself to edge forward. He could see the back of the black car.
With rapid but cautious steps he went across the track to the right and into the trees, making more noise than he intended. From there he could also see the back of the Four-wheel Drive. Both vehicles were parked on the track, one behind the other.
Moving very cautiously from tree to tree he edged forward. He heard Stephen following and glanced back. Stephen’s eyes asked the question. Roger shook his head. No-one in sight.
“Write down the make and number of the Four-wheel Drive,” he whispered. Stephen nodded. He still had his notebook in his hand. To get a clear view of the number plate they had to creep forward level with the black car and only five metres from it.
By then Roger was sure no-one was there but he kept moving cautiously just in case there was a guard somewhere out of sight. They went on past the vehicles and within ten metres found another track angling downhill on their right. It was also partly overgrown. They crept into the V where the two tracks joined.
Roger peered through the bushes along the main track. The reason why the vehicles were parked where they were became obvious. A large tree had crashed across the main track. ‘Probably blown down by that cyclone in February,’ Roger thought.
Waving Stephen to follow, Roger stepped out onto the side track and looked down it. It was quite steep and curved out of sight to the left. Stephen joined him and took a compass bearing.
As Stephen was writing it down Roger’s heart seemed to stop. His hair stood up on the back of his neck. He found he could not speak so grabbed at Stephen’s elbow.
Two men had appeared at the bend in the track below them - men in black.
Roger kept his grip on Stephen and pulled him sideways as he moved to the nearest big tree, on the downhill side of the track. He thought he was going to be sick or faint but he managed to somehow watch where he was going and keep his eyes on the men.
The boys slipped behind the big tree and began retreating down the slope looking for better cover. Roger looked around. There were no large trees for ten metres, just lots of small saplings, then a wall of wait-a-while. He heard Stephen break a twig and turned to shake his head and gave the signal to get down.
After another anxious look around for better cover Roger crouched behind the biggest tree. This had a small prickly palm at its base which gave some extra cover. He felt sure the men hadn’t seen them because they had been searching the ground.
As he crouched there Roger noticed that the tree had a thick layer of moss growing on it and a small liana wound twice round it. He crouched, peering through the palm fronds, and tried to control his trembling.
For a time he couldn’t see the men but then he heard them. They were speaking in low voices in the foreign language. Roger didn’t dare move. ‘I hope Stephen has a better hiding place than me,’ he thought, breaking into a sweat of anxiety as he did.
Then he saw one of the men.
It was Bruno. He was carrying his rifle and a shovel. Then the blond man came into view. Roger was surprised. The man was wearing headphones and was using a metal detector which he waved low over the ground along the sides of the track and around the trees on the other side of the track. Roger also noted with a spasm of anxiety that the man was wearing an automatic pistol on his belt.
The two men came closer and closer, talking quietly and searching very carefully. From time to time one or both would leave the track and search around the trees. Roger swallowed and began to sweat. ‘If the men search this side of the track like that we must be discovered,’ he thought anxiously. His mind filled with a desperate picture of trying to run downhill through the jungle with bullets thudding into the trees - and into him. He was quite sure the men would shoot them and would bury their bodies in the jungle where they would never be found.
At that Roger nearly lost control of himself. His vision went hazy with black dots dancing before his eyes and it was with difficulty he controlled his bladder.
The men were quite close by this, only ten metres away. There was a scuffling noise in the jungle behind Roger. The blond man turned to look, then said something before resuming his search. A wave of hot and cold swept over Roger. He heard the scuffling again and risked a sideways glance.
It wasn’t Stephen, just a Scrub Turkey. To his dismay he realised he could see the top of Stephen’s back behind a small dead log. ‘Oh my God! I hope they don’t see him,’ he prayed. Roger turned his head carefully to keep watching the men.
They were right opposite him now. Only five paces away. He could see every detail and hear every word. The men clearly weren’t enjoying themselves and obviously weren’t friends. Roger gained the distinct impression the blond man was giving orders to Bruno.
Then the tree blocked them from sight. Roger resisted the temptation to move. He waited till they had gone on a few more metres up the track. Then he had to move. He found his legs were starting to cramp.
‘I won’t be able to run,’ he thought. Very slowly he eased himself around, moving leaves and twigs with his fingers then shifting his feet. He ended up half leaning on the tree and half kneeling but able to look around the other side of the trunk.
The two men kept searching until they came to the track junction, which was only about twenty metres away. Roger could just see them. When they got there they stopped searching and stood together in the middle of the track. The blond man took off the earphones and pulled out his cigarette packet and lit a cigarette. They began to talk, looking idly around.
Roger heard a faint rustle behind him. He looked back and saw Stephen cautiously lift his head to peer over the log. Roger met his eyes and shook his head while pointing to where the men were. Stephen nodded and lay still.
Roger was in a real state. If the men searched their side of the track the same way they had just searched the other they must be found. ‘Should we try to creep away?’ he wondered. After a careful study he decided it could not be done without them being seen or heard. They would have to take the risk and stay.