Free Behind Mt. Baldy by Christopher Cummings Page B

Being those few months younger could be really annoying!
    The road went down across another
bridge and then began to climb up a long slope with pine forest on both sides.
Roger slowed down and fell behind. A car came from behind and left dust hanging
in the still air.
    At the crest of the rise a
well-graded road led off on the right. The sign indicated it led to School
Point Campground. The others waited there for Roger to catch up.  As soon
as he did Graham set off again.
    “What about a blow?” Roger asked.
    “No!” Graham was adamant. “We
should have reached ‘The Chimneys’ yesterday. We will stop there for lunch. It’s
only another two kilometres.”
    Half a kilometre further on
another good road led off on the right. This one led to Fongon Bay Campground.
The main road went steadily uphill. One the left was rainforest and on their
right a forest of mature pine trees which were clear of undergrowth. Buildings
came into view ahead on their right. These turned out to be an old Forest
Ranger Station. Graham just kept walking.
    A few hundred metres further on a
gap opened up in the jungle on their left.  Graham led the way across the
road and stopped. Below them lay a small lake, half-covered with reeds and
lilies.
    “Lake Euramo. It’s a volcanic crater lake,” he
said.
    “I know. I’ve been here on
picnics,” Roger said grumpily. “In a car.”
    They had all been there before
with parents on sightseeing trips showing relations the Tablelands so they
didn’t linger. Roger was feeling quite down by this time. His shoulders ached,
his feet hurt, his chafing was starting to bother him again, his muscles seemed
hot and he had a headache. He was in quite a bad mood.
    A few hundred metres along
another large clearing opened up on the right.  A couple of large trees
stood in lawn and two brick chimneys stood beside a side track.
    “Two Chimneys,” Graham called
back to cheer him up.
    “I can count,” Roger snapped. He
was fast losing interest. All he wanted to do was stop and lie down.
    They walked to the shade of a
large tree on the lawn between the derelict chimneys and the main road. Packs
were dropped and Roger lowered himself with much sighing and groaning. He
pillowed his head on his pack and closed his eyes.
    “Eleven forty-five. That’s not
too bad,” said Graham. “We can have lunch. Till twelve thirty. Then we must
push on. Let’s see if there’s a clue here.”
    He walked off towards the old
brick and concrete chimneys, obviously all that remained of some house,
followed by Peter and Stephen. Roger just lay there feeling sore and sorry for
himself.
    Stephen found the clue almost at
once, stuck up the rear flue of the left-hand chimney. The three walked back to
Roger with their find.
    “We found it Roger,” Stephen
called.
    “Good,” replied Roger without
looking round.
    “Oh cheer up mate. It’s not that
bad,” Graham said, sitting down beside him.
    Roger felt a bit churlish but didn’t
reply. Peter sat on the other side. “Have some lunch Roger. You’ll feel
better.”
    “And you’ll have less to carry,”
Stephen added.
    Graham made a point of reading
the new clue aloud. “Four words again. High School, Curtain Fig.”
    In spite of his mood Roger
couldn’t help being interested. He opened his eyes and reached out. Graham
passed him the clue. As before it was printed by hand in black felt pen on
bright yellow paper and placed in a plastic bag.
    Roger looked at it and asked,
“High School? Which High School? Where’s the nearest High School?” He tried to
sort out the small towns which dotted the Tablelands. He had been driven across
the Tablelands often enough but the layout and road network was just a maze to
him.
    “There’s certainly one in
Atherton,” Peter said.
    “And Malanda. Remember playing against them at
the Sports Carnival?” Stephen reminded.
    “All you noticed were the legs of
their girl’s basketball team,” Graham said with a grin.
    “So did you!”