Free The Killer Koala by Kenneth Cook

and a heavy
rifle from his vehicle. The civilians carried old army rifles and
small packs. We all began walking into the scrub.
    Jack
and I went first and the two civilians followed some little way
behind. This arrangement just happened, but I had the impression Jack
wanted it that way. He was a man of considerable presence and he
managed to convey the atmosphere that he was the professional, I was
the welcome observer, and the other two were barely tolerated as
interested parties.
    'That's
the tree where we found his clothes,' said Jack after we had walked
for a few minutes. It was a large pandanus palm, but unremarkable.
'There's the creek.' He pointed to a trickle of water that emerged
from the scrub and formed a very narrow small channel through a
clearing. 'My guess is he just sat down in that to get wet. The croc
probably shot out of the scrub and grabbed him. Or the croc might
have been there first and the poor bastard just walked straight into
it. Come on, I'll show you where we found the legs.'
    We
pushed our way into the scrub.
    'You're
not worried that the crocodile might be still close by? Or another
one?' I asked.
    'Wouldn't
be another one. This fellow'll be a big bull. He'll have cleared out
anything else. Wouldn't even let the females around this time of the
year.'
    We
marched along for a few minutes. The flies were very bad and it was
hot.
    'That's
where we found the legs,' said Jack eventually.
    I
saw a patch of grass that could have been disturbed recently, but it
meant nothing.
    'Now
I reckon,' said Jack, 'that the croc got him back there either at the
creek or somewhere between the creek and his clothes. Now, we found
the legs here, so obviously the croc came this way. He'd be heading
for a pool and a pool would be on the creek, so my guess is that the
creek winds around and if we follow a line running from the clothes
to here, we should hit the creek, and we follow that until we find
some pools.'
    He
was not inviting comment, just telling me what he was doing.
    We
went on into the scrub. Jack pushed briskly and apparently
unconcernedly forward, but he did unsling the rifle from his shoulder
and carry it with his finger on the safety catch.
    He
was right, as such men usually are, and we soon struck the stream. We
went on in single file, walking in the water with Jack in front — the
rifle unashamedly held ready — then
me, feeling nervous, then the two civilians following very closely
behind. Once Jack turned sharply and said to them, 'Are those guns
cocked?'
    One
admitted that his was.
    'Well,
uncock it and put the guns over your shoulders.' It hadn't occurred
to me to worry about two men walking behind me with loaded rifles,
but I realised I should have been worried and was glad of Jack's
forethought.
    In
about twenty minutes the stream widened out into a large stagnant
pool lined by pandanus palms and several large gums. The surface was
covered with green weed which had been disturbed.
    'Could
well be in there,' said Jack, and made us all walk around the pool
looking for crocodile tracks. There was a lot of grass which had been
trodden down by something, but there was also buffalo and pig dung.
    'If
he's in there, he might have a cache under the bank,' said Jack.
That's what they often do with cattle, take 'em into their hole and
let 'em rot a bit. But this pool doesn't look big enough for a
permanent nest to me. If he's in there, he's just slipped in when he
heard us coming.'
    I
looked at the motionless surface of the pool and wondered whether
just below the opaque surface lay a huge reptile with a man in its
stomach.
    'We'll
blow it up anyway,' said Jack, and busied himself with his pack.
    His
technique was simple enough. He placed a few sticks of gelignite with
a detonator in a container. Then he attached a length of wire through
which he could send a charge from a small battery-powered plunger. He
tossed the container into the centre of the pool and fed the wire out
as it sank.
    'You
could almost