Read Online Behind Mt. Baldy by Christopher Cummings - Free Book Online

he took out his map and
studied it, hoping to find they didn’t have too far left to walk. His watch
told him it was just on 9 o’clock.
    “What about another blow?” he
called at the others. They were drawing ahead again.
    Graham answered. “Not yet. We’ll
go to Robson’s Creek.”
    Roger looked at his map. To his
regret he noted that was at least a kilometre and a half. The map also told him
they were passing the extreme North East corner of the lake but it was hidden
by a belt of very thick jungle. Particularly unpleasant looking jungle too, he
noted, seeing the palm fronds and dangling tendrils of the lawyer vine or
‘wait-a-while’.
    The others drew slowly ahead.
There was another fairly steep uphill slog. The road was quite muddy and lined
with weeds.  Roger found he was sweating hard and panting by the time he
crested the rise. The road went gently down and to the left and came to a
concrete bridge.
    ROBSONS CREEK proclaimed a sign.
A hundred metres beyond was a triangle of pine trees with short grass under
them. A gravel road went off to the left. The others had already dropped their
packs and sat down.
    Roger walked over and joined
them. “If you reckon we were supposed to cover that yesterday afternoon I’m
bloody glad we didn’t,” he said, flopping down.
    Graham finished drinking from his
water bottle and wiped his mouth. “Never mind. We’ve
got off to a good start today. We’ve covered at least six kilometres and we
haven’t been going for two hours. Fourteen or fifteen more to go and we’ve
covered the day’s quota.”
    Roger groaned.
    Peter laughed and added. “And
then we need to push on a few more to make up for yesterday. Cheer up Roger,
have a lolly.”
    Roger took the fruit jube and
sucked it. He closed his eyes and mentally checked over his physical ailments.
He didn’t want to spoil it for the others by breaking down.
    Peter pointed up the side road.
“This is the road up to the top of the Lamb Range isn’t it?”
    Graham nodded. “Yes. To Mt Edith. I went up there once with Captain Conkey,
Lieutenant Maclaren and Warrant Officer Howley.”
    Stephen looked up from polishing
his glasses. “This is where the search HQ was when they were looking for you
and Willy last year Roger.”
    Roger shuddered at the memory of
that nightmare ride. He had tried to grab Willy’s runaway home made airship
when it flew past the top of Lambs Head and had been dragged over the cliff. To
save his life he had hung on to a rope and endured a truly terrifying ride
across the mountains until it caught in a tree at the top near Mt Haig. Willy
had climbed off and the airship had been blown away with Roger still aboard.
All he could do was sit on the bicycle seat and cling on through a whole night
of fear as it drifted all over the tablelands until finally being rescued at
Atherton.
    They discussed that adventure for
a few minutes. Roger then lay back and closed his eyes, trying to ease his sore
muscles.
    Stephen’s voice broke into his
thoughts. “I hate to spoil your rest old son but there’s a large leech moving
up your left boot.”
    Roger sat up with a jerk. If
there was one thing he hated with a passion it was leeches.  He looked at
the repulsive thing as it wriggled its way up onto his trousers - nose - tail -
nose - tail.  How quickly it moved!
    “So much for the mite-tick
repellent,” Peter said. They had all treated their uniforms with anti-mite
fluid before the hike.
    “It’s a leech, not a tick,”
Graham laughed.
    “Bloody thing!” Roger grabbed it and held it
squirming between his fingers. He tried to crush it but the tough, rubbery body
defied his efforts. He rolled it into a ball between his finger and thumb and
flicked it off into the grass.
    “There’s another one on your
right boot now,” Graham said.
    Roger stood up and scraped it
off, then stamped on it - to no avail - the leech kept moving.
    “It’s all that hot flesh that
attracts them,” Stephen said.
    “Quality