Frog Whistle Mine Read Free Page A

we can find something. I’ve got pretty well everything around here.’
    A few minutes later Tony was on his way back to the caravan armed with a bolt, screws and a battery-powered drill. The sky was now clear, and the afternoon sun made steam rise from the sodden ground in the clearing. It gave the place a magical look. Tony felt he was going to enjoy living here. He might even do the caravan up: paint it some bright colours, make some decent paths…
    He stopped in his tracks. The door to the caravan was open, and scattered on the ground outside was some of his junk. Somebody had thrown it out. He picked up the pieces and stepped inside. The place had been trashed. His books had been pulled off the shelf and then torn apart. The case to the torch was dented as if a sharp object had been hammered into it. The lamp had been toppled and the glass cracked.
    The bed hadn’t escaped either. The stuffing from the pillow covered everything. The pillow itself was now an empty sack. But the worst was the duvet. Animal droppingshad been smeared all over it, filling the the caravan with their stench.
    Tony stood and stared in shock. Who would have done such a thing? And why would they do it? Who would hate him that much? He’d hardly met anybody except for Rose. Maybe she’d been so angry…No, she wouldn’t.
    As he tidied the mess, he thought it over, again and again. His only conclusion was that someone wanted to scare him away from living in the caravan. For some reason, he wasn’t wanted here. Then it occurred to him that whoever it was might have stayed around to see his reaction. Perhaps someone was in the bushes watching him at this moment. Carefully he pulled one of the curtains apart, just enough to see out. He watched for some time, but there was nothing.
    He moved to another window. This time there was something—a movement. It was difficult to make out any details, but there was definitely something sneaking through the dark scrub. He watched until he was certain it had gone. Then he started work on fixing the bolt to the door. There was now some urgency to the task. Somebody was after him, and what better time to get him than when he was asleep? Yet fixing the bolt did little to reassure him. The caravan was so flimsy that the door could easily be pulled off, with or without a bolt. He was so far away from the lodge that nobody would hear even if the caravan was demolished. He could scream his head off and no-one would know.

Chapter 3
    The first person Tony met when he got back to the lodge was Lofty, who was raking leaves off the path.
    ‘Hi. Tony. How’re you settling in? That caravan OK?’
    ‘No!’ replied Tony, with feeling. ‘It’s not OK.’
    Lofty raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Somebody got in and wrecked the place.’ He held out the rolled-up duvet cover. ‘And they put muck all over this.’
    ‘What! Give me a look.’ Lofty took the cover and unrolled it on the ground. He looked at the mess for a while, sniffed at it, and then burst out laughing.
    ‘Did you leave the door of the caravan open?’
    Tony thought for a bit. ‘No! I definitely shut it.’
    ‘Well, it must have blown open then.’
    ‘Doubt it. It’s not easy to open.’
    ‘Well, somehow it got open. That’s the only way the vandals could have got in.’ Lofty picked up the cover and headed towards the main block. ‘Follow me.’
    There were now ten or so people in the lounge area, talking in a range of different languages. Lofty noddedto them as he moved towards a large notice board on the wall opposite the windows. He pointed to a sign headed Warning!
    ‘Read that to me,’ he said, chuckling.
    Do not leave your chalet door open when you are not there , read Tony out aloud. Thieves and vandals live in this area. They look like this.
    Below was a photo of a brown bird. It was about the size of a hen, with a longer beak and a tail that pointed to the ground. It had a mean, don’t-mess-with-me look about