Hills End by Ivan Southall Page A

big as a man, but in so many ways he was only a little boy. He tucked his shoes under his arm and first went one way, and then another, and then back to the rock beside the pool. Soon he was sobbing and he wriggled in hard against the rock on the sheltered side and down came the rain with a horrifying clap of thunder. In seconds he was drenched to the skin.

5
The Storm
    â€˜Goodness!’ exclaimed Miss Elaine Godwin. ‘What was that?’
    She knew what is was, really, but she was so accustomed to putting questions to children that she felt obliged to ask.
    â€˜That was thunder,’ said Frances.
    â€˜Thunder, indeed. I hope we’re all not going to get wet on the way home.’
    She wasn’t thinking that at all. Her only thought was her fear of descending the bluff. If rain came with the thunder the footholds would be like glass and somehow she was sure it was raining; although these caves were warm, there was in the air the touch and smell of water or ice.
    â€˜Children,’ she said. ‘I think we’d better go back to the entrance to see what’s happening.’
    â€˜I’ll go, miss,’ said Paul. ‘I know my way. I’ll only be half a minute.’
    â€˜Thank you all the same, Paul, but we must keep together. We have only the one torch, and I don’t wish to be left in the dark, nor do I wish you to be stumbling alone in the dark. Lead the way, Adrian.’
    â€˜Fancy a storm on a day like this!’ said Gussie. ‘Ooh!’
    â€˜Yes, Augusta?’ said Miss Godwin. ‘What did you mean by that tone of surprise?’
    â€˜I must have seen it coming. I saw a cloud. The funniest cloud you ever saw.’
    Miss Godwin shivered. ‘What was funny about it, Augusta?’
    â€˜It was like a big black arm, reaching across the sky, taking hold of the sun.’
    â€˜You should have told me, child.’ Her voice was so sharp that they were surprised. ‘Hurry on, Adrian. If there’s to be a storm we must get out of here.’
    They followed the beam of the torch, this way and that way, but Miss Godwin was bustling so busily on Adrian’s heels that she confused him and he took the wrong turning. He wasn’t certain in his mind that he was wrong, but the doubt was there, and Paul said, ‘Not this way, Adrian.’
    â€˜We’ll leave that to Adrian, shall we?’ snapped Miss Godwin.
    â€˜But he might be right, miss,’ stammered Adrian. ‘I—I think he is right.’
    â€˜Nonsense. I distinctly remember this chamber. Hurry on.’
    But Adrian knew he didn’t remember it, not from any of his journeys in here, and when the pale whiteness of old bones moved into the beam of the torch he was certain he’d never set foot in this cave before.
    He heard the sharp intake of Miss Godwin’s breath close to his ear, heard the squeal from Harvey and the gasp from Paul.
    â€˜Wait!’
    Miss Godwin took the torch from Adrian and directed it across the floor of the cave to a ledge. There were many bones, huge bones, and kangaroo skulls twice as large as any they had ever seen, and on the walls beyond were red hands and black hands and white hands and drawings of animals and devil men.
    Miss Godwin sighed, a deep, shuddering sigh, and Gussie cried out, and Paul was so ashamed he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
    Adrian was panting in wonderment, in amazement, in absolute elation. They were here. The drawings were here. And they’d called him a liar. That prim and proper Paul had called him a liar and he wasn’t a liar at all.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Adrian,’ Paul murmured. ‘Golly, I am sorry!’
    Adrian couldn’t trust himself to speak, and neither could Miss Godwin. She was too overcome even to consider that Paul’s remark confirmed Frank Tobias’s story and that all her fears as to the real motives of the children were without foundation.
    Frances,