Dash and Dingo (35 page)

“If I knew that….”

Henry could feel the movement as Dingo shrugged. Apparently either Dingo really didn’t know or he wasn’t going to say. They sat curled together in silence. Henry was convinced that Hodges had killed the cub to draw them out, to find out where they were. And perhaps now
they
had become his prey, rather than the tigers. If so, he had to be toying with them, the way they’d raced through the woods making all kinds of noise. Or perhaps whatever he had planned couldn’t be done in front of witnesses.

When the haunting calls of the adult tigers began again, he could easily picture the pair of thylacines, sitting on their haunches, gazing at their dead cub, pushing at it with their muzzles to rouse it. They had to know it was dead; they were predators.

He recognized their voices; even his brief acquaintance enabled him to tell their calls apart. The male made little noise; it was mostly the female who mourned. The jungle was silent, save for the unearthly cries, as if all stopped to respect the tigers’ grief.

He’d come here to save the tigers and instead, one was dead. Guilt consumed him; if he hadn’t insisted on coming here, would that have saved the life of the murdered cub? Hodges would most likely have stayed out of the

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jungle if he hadn’t been following them. The thought that he might be unwittingly to blame crushed Henry.

The only thing that would be worse was if Dingo—cold fingers of fear squeezed Henry’s heart. Hodges was still out there.

Henry woke early, glad to remain in the circle of Dingo’s arms until he awoke as well. Dawn filtered uncertainly into the center of the tree, and Henry could see daylight where there were a few holes. Finally Dingo gave a snort and sat up suddenly, wrenching himself out of Henry’s hold.

“Morning,” Dingo said gruffly, and Henry was reminded of his father’s observation that he was not a morning person ’til he’d had his coffee.

Resolutely he pushed the thought of coffee and food away, trying to ignore the gnawing pit of his stomach.

“What do we do now?”

“We have to keep Hodges away from the tigers.” Henry’s question seemed to have the effect of sharpening Dingo’s wits, although not his stomach, which grumbled ominously. “And we need some food.”

Henry nodded. “Should we circle back to our camp?”

“Probably not the best plan. I doubt Hodges could find it on his own, but for him to have followed us this deep and high onto the mountain, his guide has to have some skill.”

Henry could barely see Dingo’s face, but he could hear the grim tone in his voice. “So we’re dodging two men out there.”

“Maybe more, but first things first. We need some breakfast.”

Dingo moved to block the light coming from the entrance, presenting Henry with a splendid view of his arse, if it hadn’t been to dark to see or if Henry had been in the mood. Right now, food was more of a priority. He didn’t question Dingo; their journey had given him plenty of reason to trust the other man’s resourcefulness.

As he followed Dingo out of the tree, Henry suppressed a moan and stretched to his full height, his muscles sore and cramped from spending the night in tight quarters.

“Wait for me here.”

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“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, his voice rising in fear. What if Dingo took it into his head to go after Hodges alone? He was fully capable of it, and Henry wasn’t going to be left behind and protected like that.

“I’ll be back in a tick,” Dingo said. “Don’t worry.”

Henry had to admit that he still couldn’t move like Dingo as he watched the other man slip through the trees. He listened for any sound that might indicate that they were not alone.

A twig snapped behind him, and Henry jerked around to find Dingo emerging from the brush, his hands cupped as if he were carrying something.

“Dig in.”

Henry reached for the pink berries immediately, finding them tart and sweet. “What’s that lump?”

“Better you don’t ask. It’s called bush bread.” Dingo took a bite and chewed.

Henry steeled himself to try it. “It really does taste like bread. What is it?”

“A fungus.” Dingo grinned at the grimace on Henry’s face.

The two men ate quickly, and then Dingo led the way to a rock with water dripping from it. When they’d drunk their fill, Henry asked, “What do we do now?”

“We have to split up,” Dingo said. “Hodges seems to be more interested in what we’re doing than the tigers. If we can lead him further into the forest, maybe we can… discourage him.”

Assimilating the dire implications of that statement, Henry asked, “And what about his guide?”

“Maybe we can reason with him.”

“Get rid of him too?” Henry growled.

Dingo sniggered at Henry’s bloodthirstiness. “Bribe him to keep his mouth shut. After all, he’s probably only in it for the bounty.”

“It seems like Hodges has anything
but
the bounty on his mind. The tigers aren’t that plentiful any more, and they’re well away from the farms up here,” Henry argued. “Hodges has gone to a great deal of trouble to keep tabs on us.”

Dingo looked away. “Let’s just say I’ve known him a long time.”

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Henry didn’t want to think that this meant what he thought. “You mean you two….”

Dingo looked at him kindly. “You have to stop doing that, Dash. I really don’t have quite the checkered past you’re imagining for me. It’s nothing like that.”

“We’d better get going,” Henry said, feeling the heat color his face.

“I’m going to head for our camp. I need a gun and my compass. You head northwest, that way, toward the Tenna River. There’s a good chance that after he chased the rumored tiger sightings to Maydena he followed the river inland. He always pitches his camp too close to the water. Maybe you can nip back ahead of him to warn me if you find him heading back this way.”

“Right,” Henry said confidently, remembering the map Dingo had sketched in the dirt for him the day before, but then he hesitated. “Then what do I do if I find him? I mean, should I confront him?”

“No, of course not, it’s too dangerous. Wait for me. I’ll find you. We’ll face him down together.” Dingo gave Henry a wink and started to walk away.

Henry watched him go instead of striking out on his own, and he was glad he did, because Dingo turned and came back, enveloping Henry in a tight hug.

“Stay safe,” Dingo instructed.

“You too.” Henry didn’t want to let him go, but he felt a bit better. This time he turned and headed toward the Tenna River instead of watching Dingo walk away from him, trying not to think that it might be for the last time.

His slow progress frustrated him, but Henry tried to imitate Dingo as he moved toward the river. He stayed under the cover of the ferns, avoiding dried sticks or leaves that might give away his position. He paused frequently to listen. That eerie feeling of being watched hadn’t returned, but he was taking no stupid chances. While he walked, Henry couldn’t help thinking about how the goals of this expedition changed hourly. The main goal to locate the living animals had been achieved, although it seemed that not only circumstances but Dingo himself stood in the way of bringing the animals out of the forest.

Now it was all about staying alive and keeping Dingo alive as well.

Henry couldn’t allow himself to even contemplate the fact that they had become lovers; the dread of losing Dingo pierced his heart with a pain more

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intense than he had ever felt in his life. Resolutely he pushed the thought away. If they were to survive, he would have to stay focused on the task at hand, although if Hodges had by some chance decided to retreat by the river, Henry wasn’t exactly sure of what he could do to prevent it. Or if he should.

At least he would know where Hodges was, though.

The sound of water became louder as he drew closer, rising from a hush in the distance to a more discernible rushing noise. It had the effect of blotting out the other noises in the forest, and Henry paused more frequently, stepping carefully through the brush so as not to fall into a trap. Nonetheless, he continued on his way, walking as quietly as he could.

He pushed his way through a dense group of ferns and realized he had come to the edge of a small crevice, much like the one he’d fallen down when he first came face-to-face with the thylacine.

Henry dropped to his knees and backed into the ferns, lying on his stomach to survey the bank of the river that lay on ground some ten feet lower than his position. He had, against all expectation, found Hodges’s camp, although it was more due to luck than skill.

The camp bore no relation to Dingo’s, with his discreet habit of tucking his tent between trees. Hodges apparently enjoyed traveling in style; his tent was easily four times the size of theirs. Brush and foliage had been cleared away, and blackened rocks were placed in a circle around a pile of ash. There was even a folding camp chair set up by the big tent. A smaller tent was set up a fair distance from the river, close by the trees. And the river was much bigger and faster than the Styx, although the water was the same amber color, like tea.

Henry realized that although he was hidden from the camp where he was, he might be spotted by anyone coming up on the camp from behind him.

He briefly considered climbing a tree, but the thought of being trapped up there with nowhere else to go, especially considering Hodges carried a gun, shot that idea down. He tried to think of what Dingo would do and gazed about him for inspiration, only then recognizing that he was actually quite well hidden. The ferns were dense and camouflaged him well. If necessary he could always make a run for it.

He settled in to wait, for it appeared the camp was empty. He must have nodded off briefly, because he found himself jerking awake in time to watch three men return to the camp.
Three!
Henry almost bobbed up in his surprise but remembered to keep still. Hodges didn’t look around, but the other two men seemed much more aware of their surroundings.

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Hodges wore his habitual expression of disdain and handed his rifle to one of the men, immediately sitting down in the lone camp chair. The other two men wore sullen expressions, but they got to work at once, building a fire, fetching water, and starting to prepare a meal.

From where he lay, Henry couldn’t hear their quiet exchange, but he suspected that the two men were probably local guides, not government agents. Unlike Hodges who was clean-shaven, their jaws were dark with several days’ growth of beard and their clothing was poor.

Hodges accepted a plate of food and a smoking tin mug from the stouter man, not bothering to thank him.

Henry’s stomach growled as he watched Hodges eat his fill in silence.

Then Hodges stood up and retrieved his rifle. “Stay here,” he commanded loudly.

“Here, Hodges, where you going? It’s not safe to wander about alone in the forest,” the thin guide said ingratiatingly.

“It’s
Mr.
Hodges to you, and it’s none of your business. Stay here and guard the camp in case Chambers happens upon it,” Hodges barked.

“Yes, sir,
Mr.
Hodges, if you say so.”

“I do say so, and as I’m paying you quite handsomely, you’ll do as I say.” He paused to ascertain the two men’s compliance before striding out of the camp.

Henry moved restlessly, wondering if he dared follow Hodges or whether the two men would notice him if he moved.

“I don’t like this, Ev,” the thin guide said.

“Shh, Larry. He might hear you.”

Larry shook his head. “There’s something bleeding wrong here. He asks us to lead him to the tigers, but after we kill that first old bugger, we walk right past three more of them ’til he spots them other two fellers. We’re spending more time slipping about on their trail than looking for the sodding tigers. I’m beginning to wonder if our man is really a government agent at all.”

“I came up here for the bounty,” Ev grumbled. “A pound a head those tigers are worth. He didn’t say nothing about other fellers competing with us.”

“They’re not. They ain’t doing no shooting, except with their bleeding camera. And if you were to ask me, I’d say
Mr.
Hodges is after them. And all that screeching today! What was that about?”

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“Didn’t seem like he shot anything, did it?” Ev asked uneasily.

“I didn’t hear a shot. So why did he make us stand there facing the other way?” Larry poked viciously at the fire. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.

Whatever
Mr
. Hodges is up to, he’ll have to do it without me.”

“What’re you doing?”

Larry got up and went into the small tent without answering, coming out in a few minutes with his pack. He slung it onto his back and asked,

“Coming, Ev?”

“He’s only paid us half yet.”

“I got a bad feeling about this, and I got a family. Half’ll feed them better than none and me gone missing to boot.” Larry pulled on his hat. “I’m going.
Mr.
Hodges can maybe get those other two to guide him back.”

“Wait for me.” Ev went into the small tent and presently threw out his pack. Crawling out, he stooped to enter Hodges’s tent, emerging with the skin of an adult thylacine, stuffing it into his pack.

Henry gasped in dismay at the sight of the empty pelt.

“Let’s go then.”

“You’re not taking it—”

Ev glared defiantly at his friend. “I come up here to hunt tigers for the bounty. I’m not leaving without this one. I found him fair and square, for all Hodges was the one to put a bullet in him.”

“Hodges ain’t going to like that,” Larry said.

“He ain’t here to speak his piece, is he?”

“You have a point.”

A small part of Henry pitied Hodges for being abandoned. But another part of him was grateful when the guides disappeared from his view, slipping into the forest. At least now he could get away from here. He had to find Dingo. He had to warn him.