Free The Quicksand Pony by Alison Lester Page A

Devil.’ He buried his face in the yellow fur and held him close for a moment. ‘I can’t stay. They’ll be leaving.’ Devil whined, but Joe pushed him away and crashed down the mountain side, his eyes blurred with tears; falling, rolling, scrambling.
    He knew he’d missed them the minute he walked into the camp. Everything was gone. The fire had been doused. The stink of cattle was still there, though. Joe leaned against the yards and looked at the tracks that ran down to the river. He was so exhausted he felt as if he was somehow looking at himself standing there. He was so sad, so alone. He couldn’t stay. He looked at the tracks again, wearily picked up his bag, and trudged out of the camp, following the cattle. He’d catch up with them.
    The cattle tracks made the beach look dirty. Instead of smooth pale sand, it was dark and churned-up. It looked as if something terrible had happened, Joe thought. Well, it had. He’d missed his chance. Biddy and her parents had gone and he hadn’t said hello. There was no sign of them in the distance. The tracks just ran into the sea-mist. He kept walking. He’d catch up, even if it wasn’t until he got to their place. Something caught his eye and he bent to pick it up. It was Biddy’s knitted hat. He pulled it on his head and smiled to himself. ‘Ah, er, hello. I’m Joe. I found this on the beach, and I think it’s yours.’ He couldn’t imagine where he would be standing when he said that.
    He walked on in a daze, stopping occasionally to heave his bag onto the other shoulder. It was a beautiful day, and although the wind was cold, it was at his back, helping him up the beach. He watched a line of pelicans gliding and banking along the surf. He wondered if they were the pelicans from his summer camp. His eyes followed the birds as they flew away from him, out along the sandbar. What was that?
    It looked like a lump of seaweed or driftwood, half buried, but as he strained his eyes to see, it seemed to move.
    It did move!
    The thought crossed his mind that it might be a stranded whale. Maybe it was a monster, or a bunyip. It looked pretty weird. It looked a bit like a horse.
    He started to run along the sandbar, pausing now and then to try to see just what it was.
    It was a horse. It was Bella!
    The pony lifted her head feebly from the quicksand and whinnied to Joe. He sat his bag on the firm sand and waded through the slop to her.
    â€˜Oh, Bella! What’s happened?’ The pony looked half dead.
    Joe sat down and cradled Bella’s head in his lap, brushing the sand off her eyes and patting her. ‘Why have they left you?’ Maybe Biddy or someone was hurt. There must be a reason. Who’d leave a pony stuck like this? He looked behind him. The tide was almost right out now, but soon it would be turning. Bella would drown if he couldn’t get her out. He scooped up a handful of quicksand. Instantly more sand oozed into the space he made.
    â€˜Oh, Bella, I don’t know if I can do this.’ He leaned into her neck. Why was everything so hard? What would Joycie do?
    He thought, then remembered the time he’d asked her about the shell necklace, the necklace from Seal Island. How, he had asked, how could anyone have threaded all those shells, hundreds of shells? Little bit at a time, Joycie had smiled, little bit at a time. He patted Bella, then whispered into her ear. ‘I’m going to get you out, pony, if I have to dig all day.’
    Joe didn’t know how long he’d been digging. He lay beside Bella and scooped handfuls of quicksand, one at a time, and flung them onto the hard sand. He used his right arm until it ached, and then he used his left arm. When it started hurting he swapped back to his right arm. He didn’t seem to be making any headway. The sand oozed back into every hole he dug. But, he thought, it had to be doing some good. He leaned against Bella’s