Missing Toby Page 8

  “Laughing Labradors!” exclaimed Gus. “We’re good at scents, but not that good!”

  However, the dogs made a big thing of sniffing the knife – which smelt almost entirely of Harriet – and off they went.

  They turned right and walked along to the main road. Gus and Max stopped frequently to sniff in every direction. “Gotta play the game,” murmured Gus to Max with a wink. Then they returned on the other side of the road and walked as far as the corner.

  “We can go left to the park, or right to the reserve – though that’s much further,” explained Harriet. “There’s only one house up that way and that’s the Old House. It’s a bit creepy.”

  “Neat! Much more interesting than the park,” said Luke. “Gran’s never been keen for me to go up there, so let’s do it now. We might find Honey, too.”

  Max and Gus were less enthusiastic. They dragged on their leashes.

  “Now come along!” said Harriet firmly. “We might find Honey.”

  The road ahead was overhung with trees and slippery from the recent rain. Luke pulled on his jersey. Soon they reached a wide track on the left.

  “This must be the entrance to the Old House,” said Harriet. “Look, there’s a letterbox.”

  Luke walked across to it, pulling a reluctant Max after him.

  “Hey, there’s stuff inside,” he said. “I thought you said nobody lived here.”

  “It’s just junk mail,” said Harriet. “The people who deliver it don’t realise there’s no one living here.”

  Luke felt the newsprint. “But it’s dry, and we’ve had quite a lot of rain. It can’t have been here for more than a day.”

  “So?”

  “So, we should go further and check the house out.”

  But he’d reckoned without Max and Gus. They sat down stubbornly where they were, and refused to budge.

  “Dogged! That’s the best word for you two,” said Luke.

  Harriet giggled. “We should be saying “Dog-gone! Except that it’s dog-stay!”

  The dogs licked themselves slowly and elaborately.

  “Delaying tactics,” said Luke. “We’re not going to win this one.”

  “They’re getting the message,” said Gus quietly to Max.

  “There’s no sign of Girl,” Max replied. “Shouldn’t we go looking for her?”

  “I’ve been up twice at night already,” Gus replied. “She doesn’t want to come back yet.” He didn’t mention he’d seen lights in the house.

  “Up here? At night?” exclaimed Max. He stared at Gus. “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” He looked hurt.

  “You were still getting back on your paws after the storm.”

  You thought I’d be too scared, thought Max. He looked away from Gus.

  “OK, you win,” said Harriet. She realised the dogs weren’t going to budge. “I’ll call Honey just in case she’s nearby.”

  She called and whistled, but there was no sign of Honey.

  “Hey,” said Max to Gus in surprise, “Harriet seems to be calling her Honey.”

  “That’s probably a better name than Girl,” Gus replied, “except that Girl doesn’t know that name. Still she knows Harriet’s voice and she’d come if she wanted to.”

  “Let’s keep going up the road,” said Luke.

  They walked on towards the reserve. The kawakawa and rangiora grew more thickly on both sides of the road. They looked up at blue sky but not much sun reached the road. A tui sang close by then took off with loudly whirring wings. Gus and Max trotted along, their tongues hanging out. In the distance they could hear a helicopter.

  “Probably checking out the storm damage,” commented Harriet.

  At last the road opened out into a sunny car park with a large sign:

  WELCOME TO TE WHITI SCENIC RESERVE

  Enjoy your visit and please:

  Don’t light fires

  Avoid breaking glass

  Use rubbish bins or carry out your rubbish

  Don’t damage or remove any plant

  Danger: pest animal traps

  Keep all dogs restrained

  A muddy path wound into the bush.

  “Let’s explore,” said Luke.

  “There were slips during the storm,” said Harriet. “They brought down trees. The track might be blocked.”

  “Then we’ll have to find another path,” said Luke. “Come on, Harriet, we’re not just going back!”

  Harriet patted Gus’s head. “He’s got arthritis in his hips. Mr Jacobs told me. It’s already been quite a long walk for him. I think we should go back now.”

  Luke looked impatient. “Why don’t we take the leash off and just let him find his own way back when he’s had enough?”

  “But what if he got caught in a possum trap? The notice says dogs have to be on leashes. And what about the dog-catcher!”

  “Oh, come on Harriet!” said Luke. “Don’t be such a girl!”

  Well, I am a girl, thought Harriet crossly. Gus nudged her and trotted forward. He’s telling me it’s OK, she thought, so she followed. It was slippery going. The track was muddy and plastered with leaves and twigs from the storm. They climbed steadily through the bush until they reached a signpost pointing to two different tracks. One track had white, plastic tape stretched across it. The tape said:

  RESTRICTED AREA PLEASE KEEP OUT

  A notice attached to a post said:

  THIS TRACK CLOSED

  DUE TO MAJOR SLIP

  “Let’s go up there and look at the slip,” urged Luke.

  “But it says not to,” said Harriet. “It might be dangerous.”

  “You don’t take any notice of stuff like this,” replied Luke. “They’re just being super-careful in case someone blames them for something.” He ducked under the tape.

  “Like getting swept away by another slip you mean,” said Harriet. “Isn’t that just the point?” She thought Luke was being stupid and she was getting sick of her feet squishing around in wet sneakers.

  But Luke hadn’t waited. He was already metres ahead, with Max struggling to keep up.

  “Come on, Gus,” said Harriet. “We’ll turn round after ten minutes, I promise.” She glanced at her watch: 10.15 a.m.

  The Slip

  The track wound upwards. From time to time they heard the helicopter.

  “Where’s this slip? The track’s perfectly OK,” said Luke.

  “I told Gus I’d turn round after ten minutes,” said Harriet. “Five minutes have already gone.”

  “You don’t think Gus understands you, do you? I’m not going back in five minutes. This could get interesting.”

  Harriet looked at him. Maybe Luke could be obnoxious and bossy after all.

  “I’ve known Gus longer than you. I’ll do what he needs, not what you want,” she said, jutting her chin forward. “And he does understand me.”

  Luke grinned. “Fair enough, Miss Harriet. Tell you what, how about we give the dogs a drink, eat our apples and chocolate, then keep going for ten minutes to see if we can reach the slip. After that, we’ll turn round.”

  “Five minutes,” said Harriet quietly, “and how do we give the dogs a drink?”

  Luke pulled up his shirt. He had a bottle of water attached to his belt. He unscrewed the lid. “I’ll cup my hands and you pour,” he said. The dogs lapped the water from his hands, and Harriet and Luke ate their supplies.

  The track levelled out but dropped away steeply on their right to a stream some distance below. They caught a glimpse of the helicopter as it chugger-chuggered overhead. Max whined and slowed down – it sounded too much like thunder to him. Luke jerked the leash again and pushed forward even faster, dragging Max behind him.

  “You’re hurting his neck,” said Harriet. “Slow down.”

  Luke clicked his tongue in irritation. “He’s holding me up,” he said, and leant down to undo the leash.

  “Don’t do that!” said Harriet. “You saw the notice. He could step in a trap!”


  But Luke took no notice. He undid the leash, dropped it on the track and kept going.

  Harriet picked it up. “Just keep to the track, Max,” she said. She looked at her watch – five minutes was nearly up. She trudged after Luke who had disappeared round a bend. It wasn’t a good idea for Luke to push on ahead like that. She remembered the girl from Search and Rescue telling them at assembly that you should stick together in the bush. Harriet decided she didn’t like Luke much after all.

  Gus had started to limp and Max trotted along at his side.

  “What’s with the boy?” he asked Gus.

  “He’s not to be trusted, he’s careless,” replied Gus. “Our job is to make sure Harriet comes to no harm. I don’t like the feel of this place – too many tiny noises I can’t pin down.”

  When Harriet reached the bend she saw the slip ahead. A high mound of clay and rocks covered the track and continued beyond it. Tree branches stuck out of it at awkward angles. Above the track on the left she saw the raw, yellow scar where the slip had torn away from the slope. Big trees had snapped as it plunged down. How awful if you’d been standing at the top when it started to slide, thought Harriet.

  She saw Luke picking his way along the side of the slip. He peered over the edge. She walked over with Gus and Max to join him. The slip had fanned out almost to the stream about eight metres below, taking more bushes and trees with it – though bigger trees held their ground.

  “Time’s up, Luke,” she said. “I want to go home now. Ten minutes, we agreed.” She had to speak loudly over the sound of the helicopter flying their way again.

  “Why don’t you –” Luke started to say, but the sound of the helicopter grew much louder as it circled lower.

  In a flash, the deafening noise took Max straight back to the night of the storm. He cowered in fear. The down-draft hit him a second later and batted him sideways. He skidded on the clay towards the edge of the track, fighting to get back on his paws. For a split second he teetered on the brink, then slid over – his one, high yelp of terror barely audible.

  Gus let out a great, barking cough and pulled Harriet after him as he rushed to the edge, and stared down. Luke followed cautiously.

  They dreaded what they might see.

  Well out of reach, about half way down the slope on the outer edge of the slip, Max hung suspended by his collar. It had caught on a sapling snapped off almost at ground level. His paws scrabbled uselessly against the sticky clay and he was making choking noises.

  “You stupid idiot!” screamed Harriet at Luke. “This is your fault!”

  How long could Max keep breathing? It was urgent. Harriet didn’t hesitate. She took off her belt, unclipped Gus’s leash and clipped it to the belt buckle. Then she unwound her scarf and knotted it to the belt. She tied the end of the scarf to the looped handle of Max’s leash, leaving the clip end free. Would the makeshift rope be long enough? Looking round frantically she saw the slim stump of a broken sapling near the edge of the track and slipped the handle of Gus’s leash over it.

  “Help me to test it!” she yelled at Luke. Together they strained on the rope. The stump held firm.

  “I’ll climb down, Harriet,” said Luke, his face white.

  “I wouldn’t trust you!” Harriet spat. “Besides, you’re too heavy. Let the rope out as I go.”

  She wound the rope several times round her left hand and looked down. Max was hanging just above a tree growing about halfway down the slope. “Hold on, Maxie!” she shouted, “I’m coming!” and closing her mind to her fear, she turned on her stomach and slid over the edge, towards the tree.

  Her right fingers raked through the mud, failing to find anything to hold on to, and she kicked her shoes into the clay to get a toehold. But her feet kept on slipping until the rope stopped her with a jerk. The pain in her arm socket was agonising and the leather cut into her hand. She hung there gasping.

  Then she realised her left foot was taking some of her weight: she could feel something flexible beneath it – a root, perhaps. Gingerly she eased her other foot in beside it and took some of the weight off her left arm. She leant into the clay face and managed to unwind most of the rope around her hand so she could lower her throbbing arm. But where was Max?

  As her breathing steadied, she could hear the choking panting below. Max was still breathing, but how would she reach him?

  She risked turning her head to the right, and looked down. She could see Max and not too far below him, the top branches of the tree. “Must reach the tree!” she yelled up to Luke, and could feel him taking the slack of the rope.

  Easing one foot off the root, she stretched it down searching for another foothold. Nothing. She pulled her foot back up. She felt around with the other foot. Again, nothing. What now? Gripping the rope with both hands, she stepped off the root. Again, she was hanging by the rope and the pain in her shoulder and left hand was fierce. Luke eased her down the slope, her body sliding against the clay.

  Now level with the top of the tree, she felt its branches scratching her. Please don’t let me get hooked on anything, she thought. Then, miraculously, her feet bumped against a branch and she found she could stand on it. Carefully she moved her right hand over to grip a branch and edged closer to the trunk. She let herself down to sit astride a branch and lean against the trunk.

  How long had it taken? Was Max still alive? She couldn’t hear him.

  Feeling safe enough to unwind the rest of the rope from her hand, she clipped it to a belt loop on her jeans. Then she started climbing, favouring her left shoulder and hand as she reached for branches and hauled herself higher. Near the top of the tree, the foliage thinned and she saw Max, almost within reach, twitching and panting.

  “I’m here, Max,” she shouted, “hang on!”

  There were no higher branches strong enough to support her. How was she to reach him? Suddenly she remembered the pocket knife. She would cut a thin branch with a forked end. She eased the knife out. Don’t drop it, don’t drop it, she muttered. Reaching for a branch just within reach, she bent and cut it until it snapped. Then she quickly trimmed off leaves and twigs. Now came the hardest part of all.

  With her left arm round the trunk and her chest pressed against it, she positioned her right foot to give her some leverage. Gripping the forked stick tightly, she stretched out towards Max.

  “Keep still, Max,” she called, “I’m going to lift you off the stump.” He won’t understand me, she thought, perhaps he’s unconscious. Her arm was trembling and her shoulder hurt. I can do it, she whispered to herself. Help me, Toby.

  The forked tip nudged closer until it was level with Max’s head. Harriet hooked it into his collar and lifted. She gasped at the weight but raised Max higher until the collar was free from the snag. The branch she was on bucked up and down. She gripped the stick harder and drew Max slowly towards her. Her arm was trembling violently. Max wasn’t moving.

  When he came within reach she seized his collar, pulled the stick back and slid it into a clump of leaves. Holding him against her side, she lowered herself on to the branch below and sat with her back against the trunk. Max lay against her chest like a rag toy, his eyes closed. But his chest moved up and down and his breath came in rasping gasps.

  They sat unmoving, each feeling the warmth of the other. Harriet gradually stopped trembling and Max opened his eyes.

  “Dear Max,” she whispered, “we have to do one more hard thing. I’ll have to tighten your collar and clip on the leash, and Luke will pull you up. I expect it will hurt but it won’t last long.”

  Special Help

  Harriet tightened Max’s collar and clipped on the leash. She shouted up to Luke: “Pull Max up. Watch out for the branches. Slow and steady.”

  The makeshift rope tightened. Harriet supported Max until he gradually began to lift away from her and up through the tree. She could hardly bear to think what it must feel for him to be dangling from his collar again and she hoped desperately the clip would hold. Luke avoide
d the branches and pulled him clear of the tree. Max flopped forward on to the clay slope and Luke dragged him up until he reached the track. A shout of triumph floated down.

  It was then that the danger hit Harriet and she started to shake. She crouched against the trunk. Her mouth was dry and she felt cold. Max had made it to the top; she still had to get back herself. She looked down to the stream – it was about as far away as her upstairs bedroom from the ground. Could she climb down and walk out along the stream? The rope wouldn’t stretch that far so if she slipped nothing would stop her until she hit the bottom.

  She looked up to the track. If Luke sent the rope back down to her, would he be able to pull her up? How would she get from the tree on to the slope? If she jumped, would Luke be able to hold her? Then she still had to scramble up.

  Harriet felt exhausted, frightened and giddy. She closed her eyes. Help me, Toby, she whispered.

  A warmth stole over her and the shaking stopped. She heard Toby’s voice. It’s better to go up the slope. Use the forked stick to dig into the clay. I’ll be right beside you. I’ll tell you when to have a breather.

  She stood up and found the forked stick where she’d pushed it into the leaves. The shaft below the fork was too long, so she shortened it with her knife. “Send down the rope!” she shouted to Luke; and after several unsuccessful attempts, he managed to slither it down to where she was sitting. She wound it tightly around her hand again, wincing with the pain, and gripped the forked stick in her other hand.

  Harriet began her perilous climb. She edged out as far as she could go. Then she stepped off the branch towards the slope. She dangled for a second before letting go. The rope went tight and jerked her shoulder painfully, but the moment her feet touched the slope, she flung herself against it and dug the stick into the clay to hold her position. Bit by bit she edged her way up the steep slope, finding roots and stumps to support her.