The Third Day, The Frost Read Free Page A

others and told them what
I’d seen. In the thicker bush, where they were, the chain-saw
sounded like a distant mosquito. But it was blocking our progress
and it would keep us there for another hour or more, by the time
the men put the fence back up. We agreed to take another siesta;
the alternative was doing a serious bushbash to get around them.
None of us wanted that much sweat.
    While the others settled back on their packs,
using them as cushions, I took a walk around the treeline so I
could get closer to the work party. I had mixed feelings about them
being on our land. I was angry and upset, of course, to see
trespassers there, but I was relieved too that someone was at last
looking after the place. We’d all been shocked, on our previous
expeditions, to see how quickly things were degenerating. Fences
were down, sheep were fly-struck, horses were foundering, rabbits
and foxes were everywhere. The houses, too, were showing signs of
wear and tear. A few more years of this and the whole country would
be a wilderness of blackberries and Scotch thistle.
    In time I got quite close to the men working
on the pine tree. I could hear them easily. They’d turned the
chainsaw off again and I realised that as they worked they were
having a go at the boy with the rifle.
    ‘Hey Wyatt, Wyatt Earp!’ one of them called
out.
    ‘What?’ I heard the boy answer. His voice was
much softer than the men’s, but sounded reluctant, almost
sulky.
    ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, sitting
under that tree.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘Well, this time of day, middle of the
afternoon, that’s when the drop bears get active.’
    ‘That’s right,’ the other man said. ‘Shocking
area for drop bears, this.’
    ‘I wouldn’t sit under that tree for a million
dollars,’ the first man said.
    ‘Terrible what those drop bears do. I’ve seen
them take a bloke’s face off. Those claws, Gawd, they’d give you
the horrors.’
    ‘And you never see the one that gets you.’
    ‘That’s the truth.’
    ‘What for, drop bears?’ the boy asked.
    I’d worked around a bit further, to where I
could see his face. He was fidgeting anxiously, but trying to look
untroubled.
    ‘You don’t know what drop bears are? Fair
dink, don’t they teach you blokes anything? Fancy sending a bloke
to a place like this and not telling him about drop bears.’
    ‘They told you about sharks, didn’t they?’ the
second man asked.
    ‘Sharks, yes.’
    ‘And crocodiles?’
    ‘Crocodiles, yes.’
    ‘And hoop snakes?’
    The boy hesitated. ‘Hoop snakes, yes,’ he said
after a moment.
    ‘Well, I’ll tell you what mate, I’d rather go
fifteen rounds with a crocodile than have a drop bear land on my
head.’
    ‘What for, drop bears?’ the boy asked again.
He was showing real nervousness now, standing up straighter against
the motorbike and with increased alertness in his voice. The men
stopped working and spoke to him directly.
    ‘Mate,’ the first one said, with great
seriousness, ‘it’s none of my business if you end up wearing a drop
bear for a hat, but if you want to keep that good-looking face
attached to your head, I wouldn’t recommend you spend any more time
under trees.’
    The young soldier looked around awkwardly,
then peered up through the branches. Finally he said: ‘That enough.
We go now.’
    ‘Well, whatever you say,’ the first man said.
‘You’re the boss. But it’s pretty early to knock off.’ To his mate
he said, quietly, ‘I guess he just doesn’t want to lose face.’
    Both men sniggered. The boy, flushing red,
said angrily: ‘Enough. We go.’
    He flourished his rifle, then kicked at the
starter of his motorbike. But he was off balance from waving his
rifle, and he fell sideways, sprawling across the ground and
dropping the bike. The men just grinned at each other and walked
casually to the ute. They got in and started it, putting it in gear
as the boy, humiliated, struggled again with the starter of the
bike. By the