and dug in.
‘Hah!’ said George with satisfaction. ‘ No one doesn’t like cornflakes!’
The child ate another bowl of cereal and some bread and jam, and then he drank a large glass of milk. Sam and George watched as he devoured it all, and he grinned at them as though he was sharing a joke.
‘For a little bloke he can sure put it away!’ said George appreciatively. ‘He must have been really hungry before we found him, hey?’
‘I guess so,’ said Sam. ‘I wish he could tell us something. I wonder what language he speaks?’
Just then they heard a door slam, and Old Jock’s voice calling out to them.
‘Oh no!’ hissed Sam. ‘Quick, go and keep him busy while I get the kid out the back door!’
George disappeared immediately, and seconds later Sam could hear him asking the old man a question, trying to delay him. He motioned to the child to follow, and hurriedly led him through the back door and out across the yard towards the hay shed. They scuttled up the ladder and the child buried himself amongst the boxes again. Enormous green eyes stared up at Sam as he arranged an old blanket across the top to make a better hiding place.
‘Just stay quiet here for a bit longer, okay? We’ll think of something …’ He stopped as he saw fat tears spill out of the child’s eyes and roll down his cheeks. Sam squatted down beside him, and patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. It occurred to him that this child had probably lost his whole family, that maybe there were lots of reasons why he might be crying.
‘I don’t know where you’re from, or who you are, orwhat’s happened to you. You seem pretty small to have such big problems. But you’re safe – for now, anyway. If my dad was here …’ But at that, Sam’s own eyes blurred, and he stood up blinking furiously. Stepping over to the ladder, he turned to the child, placing his finger against his lips. ‘Just stay there, okay?’
‘Whew, that was close,’ George whispered to Sam when he came back inside the house. ‘I had to pretend to Old Jock that I was having a second breakfast. Now he reckons I’ve got worms!’
Sam felt completely hopeless. What was he doing? How did he think he could keep a child hidden like this? All he knew was, there was no way he could let this child be taken away to a prison, like those other kids. He looked up at his brother. ‘C’mon, we’re supposed to be cleaning out the guinea pig cage, and I said we’d go round the horse paddock fence again, so we better hurry up.’
Before they left, they brought some more food up to the loft, with a fresh bottle of water and some fruit, and tried to indicate to the child that they would come back later. The child smiled and nodded, pretending to hide under the blankets as if to show them he knew what to do.
‘He’s pretty smart, really, considering he doesn’t speak English. He seems to know what we mean most of the time,’ said George as they climbed down again.
‘Yeah,’ said Sam, ‘but I bet he’s pretty scared. C’mon, hurry up or Uncle Mungo’ll beat us home.’
Uncle Mungo did beat them back to the house. Sam and George arrived home on the quad runner from checking the horse paddock to find the old work ute parked beside the hay shed. Sam looked at George and bit his lip. ‘Maybe he’s gone straight into the house?’ said George hopefully. They drove the bike into the shed and stopped at the bottom of the ladder.
‘Well, well, what have we here?’ Uncle Mungo’s loud voice echoed off the tin roof high above them. Sam and George looked at each other in horror, and scrambled up the ladder as fast as they could.
‘Uncle Mungo –’ Sam started to say when he reached the loft platform. Uncle Mungo was standing looking about him, but as far as Sam could tell, the child was out of sight.
‘So this is where you guys get to when you want to avoid some work, huh?’ He chuckled a bit, and poked at the plate with orange peel and an apple core on a
‘Hah!’ said George with satisfaction. ‘ No one doesn’t like cornflakes!’
The child ate another bowl of cereal and some bread and jam, and then he drank a large glass of milk. Sam and George watched as he devoured it all, and he grinned at them as though he was sharing a joke.
‘For a little bloke he can sure put it away!’ said George appreciatively. ‘He must have been really hungry before we found him, hey?’
‘I guess so,’ said Sam. ‘I wish he could tell us something. I wonder what language he speaks?’
Just then they heard a door slam, and Old Jock’s voice calling out to them.
‘Oh no!’ hissed Sam. ‘Quick, go and keep him busy while I get the kid out the back door!’
George disappeared immediately, and seconds later Sam could hear him asking the old man a question, trying to delay him. He motioned to the child to follow, and hurriedly led him through the back door and out across the yard towards the hay shed. They scuttled up the ladder and the child buried himself amongst the boxes again. Enormous green eyes stared up at Sam as he arranged an old blanket across the top to make a better hiding place.
‘Just stay quiet here for a bit longer, okay? We’ll think of something …’ He stopped as he saw fat tears spill out of the child’s eyes and roll down his cheeks. Sam squatted down beside him, and patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. It occurred to him that this child had probably lost his whole family, that maybe there were lots of reasons why he might be crying.
‘I don’t know where you’re from, or who you are, orwhat’s happened to you. You seem pretty small to have such big problems. But you’re safe – for now, anyway. If my dad was here …’ But at that, Sam’s own eyes blurred, and he stood up blinking furiously. Stepping over to the ladder, he turned to the child, placing his finger against his lips. ‘Just stay there, okay?’
‘Whew, that was close,’ George whispered to Sam when he came back inside the house. ‘I had to pretend to Old Jock that I was having a second breakfast. Now he reckons I’ve got worms!’
Sam felt completely hopeless. What was he doing? How did he think he could keep a child hidden like this? All he knew was, there was no way he could let this child be taken away to a prison, like those other kids. He looked up at his brother. ‘C’mon, we’re supposed to be cleaning out the guinea pig cage, and I said we’d go round the horse paddock fence again, so we better hurry up.’
Before they left, they brought some more food up to the loft, with a fresh bottle of water and some fruit, and tried to indicate to the child that they would come back later. The child smiled and nodded, pretending to hide under the blankets as if to show them he knew what to do.
‘He’s pretty smart, really, considering he doesn’t speak English. He seems to know what we mean most of the time,’ said George as they climbed down again.
‘Yeah,’ said Sam, ‘but I bet he’s pretty scared. C’mon, hurry up or Uncle Mungo’ll beat us home.’
Uncle Mungo did beat them back to the house. Sam and George arrived home on the quad runner from checking the horse paddock to find the old work ute parked beside the hay shed. Sam looked at George and bit his lip. ‘Maybe he’s gone straight into the house?’ said George hopefully. They drove the bike into the shed and stopped at the bottom of the ladder.
‘Well, well, what have we here?’ Uncle Mungo’s loud voice echoed off the tin roof high above them. Sam and George looked at each other in horror, and scrambled up the ladder as fast as they could.
‘Uncle Mungo –’ Sam started to say when he reached the loft platform. Uncle Mungo was standing looking about him, but as far as Sam could tell, the child was out of sight.
‘So this is where you guys get to when you want to avoid some work, huh?’ He chuckled a bit, and poked at the plate with orange peel and an apple core on a
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