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button-grass plains that paved the way to the gorge; ‘Reginald Blowhard, bushman extraordinaire, is ready for action.’
    Camera grasped firmly in one hand and pockets bulging with treats, he walked across the bridge, skirted past the children’s camp, and then made his way towards the mountain and the gorge.
    The entrance to the gorge was narrow. It was enclosed by tall granite cliffs dotted with black rocks, and between the cliffs was the fast flowing river which, as soon as it had gushed out of the gorge and onto the button grass plain, would turn into the slow, meandering, Snaky Creek.
    On the lookout for likely photo opportunities and skirting any rocks that had broken loose from the cliff face, he continued to walk along the narrow bush track. But after about another kilometre, he stopped. His legs felt heavy and he was wheezing. He looked at his watch; it was 2.45pm. Time for a rest.
    A large, smooth-looking boulder that lay just ahead would do nicely. From where he stood he could see that it had a nice flat surface. Dragging his feet a little, he walked over and climbed onto the boulder. He then lay back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before the warmth of the sun and the rhythmic rush of the river lulled him to sleep.
    After lunch, Snook and I, plus Shadow, made our way to the gorge. We were following in Blowhard’s tracks – to warn him about the dam upstream and how it could cause flooding. Snook hadn’t been entirely happy about that and even now he was letting me know about it. ‘Strewth,’ he said, ‘it’s not fair. We could tell him about the dam when he gets back. It’s gettin’ past a joke. I’m here for a reason, you know – to win that competition. I’m not here to worry about Blowhard!’
    â€˜I hear what you’re saying,’ I said, ‘and I agree. So let’s just catch up with him, tell him about the dam, and then hurry on to somewhere else to get the photos; somewhere where he’s not. Okay?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    He still didn’t look happy so I asked, ‘What’s wrong now? Is there something else bothering you … or what?’
    â€˜Yeah, there is. I’ll be a lot happier when Gloria decides to come back to me and not Quigley.’
    Grabbing his sleeve, I stopped him in his tracks. I spun him around to face me. Looking squarely into his eyes, I said, ‘For goodness sake, Snook, Gloria couldn’t have been any clearer about how she feels. She nursed you when you and I went all gaga last night and she’s been making eyes at you ever since. It’s your fault you’re not getting together.’
    â€˜What? How could it be my fault? I didn’t say anythin’ to upset her – not lately, anyhow.’
    â€˜Your not saying anything has been the problem. All through lunch today, you acted like you didn’t even know her. No wonder she’s hanging around Quenton.’
    Snook’s voice dropped; it sounded sad, empty. ‘I was still thinking about that kid and the dinosaur. I can’t seem to get them out of my mind.’
    I immediately felt guilty; I shouldn’t have talked to Snook like I did before. I’d known what he was going through. He was bound to be wondering about our visions, what they were, what they meant, why we’d both seen them at the same time. I know I was. ‘Don’t worry,’ I ended up saying. ‘It’ll all work out in the end.’ I hoped I wasn’t wrong.

Chapter 14
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    W e heard Blowhard’s snoring before we saw him. He was lying on a large boulder. Suddenly – it was a reflex action – my hand shot out and landed on Snook’s shoulder, pulling him to a sudden halt. ‘Don’t move!’ I whispered. ‘There’s a snake. It’s curled up between Blowhard’s legs.’ Shadow growled.
    â€˜You’d better hold your dog back,’ Snook said. ‘We