The Bare Bum Gang and the Valley of Doom (3 page)

'Here! This way, quick!'

The voice was familiar, but it took me a
few seconds to remember where I'd heard
it before.

I looked around.

Nothing.

I tried with the binoculars. The first thing
I saw was a rope, trailing down from the
valley wall, snaking over the steep, slippery
sides towards us. Looking up, I saw a flash
of white hair.

It was the new kid. What was his name?
Alfie, that was it. He'd tied the
top of the rope round a tree
to hold it secure.

Jenny was the first one to
react. 'Come on, everyone,
get up.'

She dragged Noah
and Jamie to their feet.
Dockery was coming,
half running, half sliding
down towards us from
the other direction.

That was all we
needed to get us
going. With Jenny in
the lead, we hauled
ourselves up the
rope, while our feet
scrambled on the
wet mud of the
valley side. There
were knots in the
rope to help us
climb, but it was hard work. In a few seconds
Jenny made it. Then, gasping with the effort,
I was near the top. The last metre was the
hardest, slippery and steep. My hands were
burning and sweat was stinging my eyes.

'Give me your stuff,' said Alfie, offering
his hand. I gave him my pack and the
binoculars in their case.

The Moan and Jamie were right behind
me, and soon we were all panting on the
wet grass at the top.

Only Noah was still on the rope. He
wasn't very strong and he was famously
rubbish at climbing. In fact if you listed
all his favourite things in the world to do,
climbing up a steep slippery bank using
a knotted rope with a load of dangerous
enemies right behind him would come well
down, probably about number 7834, right
after being beaten about the face and neck
with a large fish.

I went back, leaned over the edge of the
bank and stretched down, trying to reach
his arm. It was too far. His eyes, filled with
fear and pain, looked up into mine, begging
me to do something.

Dockery, bellowing like a bull, began
to climb the rope. Noah felt the tug, and
made a tragic whimpering noise. It was
like Jack and the Beanstalk, but in reverse
with the ogre chasing Jack up, not down. I
felt useless.

Then Alfie, who was taller than me,
pushed me out of the way, reached down
and hauled Noah to the top.

Dockery was halfway up the rope. He
looked up, probably expecting to see me
ahead of him. He wore a puzzled expression
for a moment when he saw the strange,
white-haired figure standing there. That
look turned first to rage and then to fear
as Alfie took out a penknife and with two
quick slashes cut through the rope.

With his fat hands still clutching the
useless rope, Dockery slithered down. He
landed with a splat right on top of the
rest of his gang, who were clustered at the
bottom.

It was a truly great moment, but we were
too tired to laugh. Not just tired in our
bodies, but in our heads as well. It had been
such a close-run thing. We were seconds
away from utter destruction. Who knows
what horrors Dockery and his heavies
would have performed?

'Everyone OK?' I asked.

'No thanks to you,' moaned The Moan.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that you led us into a trap, and
we could have been wiped out. I don't know
what we'd have done without Alfie.'

There was a general murmur of agreement
from the rest of the Gang, even Noah.

'And we stink,' said Jamie.

That was true. Special Mixture Number
Seven was certainly a glorious success. We
stank like something you'd find coming out
of an elephant's bum. But no one said how
clever I was for inventing it.

'We should get out of here,' said Alfie.
'I mean, before that lot get their act
together.'

He pointed down into the valley, where
Dockery and his gang were starting to pick
themselves up.

'That's for me to decide,' I replied, a bit
miffed about all the praise Alfie was getting.
The others looked at me in a funny way.
'Right, let's get out of here,' I said.

So we set off back to our den. It was a bit
rubbish, because we had to go back through
the trees and not along the path. That meant
serious nettle trouble. Noah was our Gang
Doctor and he always carried lots of dock
leaves with him, but soon his supplies were
used up. By the time we reached the den
we were sore and tired and soaking wet
from the rain.

I decided I had to cheer everyone up.

'I think we've earned a visit to the sweet
stash.'

'That's the first good idea you've had in
about two years,' said The Moan.

'That's not fair,' said Noah. 'Ludo's had
lots of good ideas.'

'Name one.'

'Well . . . there was . . . um . . . I can't
remember, but I'm sure there must be one.'

All this was going on as we were squeezing
through the door of the den.

When we were all in, I saw Alfie's head
and shoulders following us.

'Excuse me,' I said. 'What do you think
you're doing here? This is our den and you
have to get special permission to come in.'

'Oh, sorry, I—'

'Ignore him,' said Jenny. 'Just come on in.
You can share our sweets as a thank-you for
saving us.' Then she turned to me. 'Actually,
Ludo, I'm ashamed of you. We owe Alfie
a big thanks, and you've just been rude to
him.'

'I haven't been rude! I was going to let him
come in, but I wanted him to ask permission
first, not just barge in like that.'

'He didn't barge in,' said Jamie. 'He came
in in the normal way, crawling like the rest
of us.'

'That's not what I— Oh, fine.'

'No, Ludo's right,' said Alfie. 'I should have
asked first. Is it OK if I come in?'

'Yes!' they all shouted.

'Everyone happy now?' I asked, still a bit
disgruntled. 'Right, let's get the stash.'

We didn't have carpet on the floor any
more because of having been weed on by
you-know-who. What we had now was
newspaper, which wasn't very classy, but
better than the raw earth. We had considered
putting dried grass on top of the newspaper,
but decided against it in case it made us
look like rabbits living in a hutch.

Jamie was nearest, so he peeled back the
newspaper from over the hole and took out
the biscuit tin. Whenever we did this, it was
always a very solemn and serious occasion,
a bit like going to church, because the sweet
stash is the soul of our gang. If we'd been
living in the Olden Days we'd probably have
worshipped the sweet stash as our god and
danced around it wearing special hats.

Plus, of course, eating sweets is about the
best thing you can do with your mouth, or
probably any part of your body. Not that
you can eat sweets with any part of your
body except your mouth, although at a
pinch you could stuff them up your nose,
and I know for a fact that Jamie has tried
that a few times.

Jamie put the sweet stash down in the
middle of us. There was always a few seconds
of silence before I shared the sweets out. I
looked around the circle of faces. We'd been
through a tough time, but there's nothing
so bad that eating sweets won't put it right,
except maybe toothache.

Jamie slowly removed the lid.

There followed a completely different kind
of silence – the sort of silence that actually
sounds louder than bombs.

The tin had been full of every kind of
brilliant sweet. Chews, lollies, chocolate, wine
gums. You name it and we had it.

Now there was nothing.

No, worse than nothing.
There were some stones.
Not even cool stones
like diamonds, rubies or
sapphires. Just plain stony
stones.

'Is this some kind of joke, Ludo?' said
The Moan, looking at me without smiling.
'Because this isn't a good time to be joking.
Have you hidden them? If you have, I think
you should get them out. Now. Right now.'

'No . . . I . . . I don't know what's going
on.'

Then there was quite a lot of general
mayhem. The Gang lost its cool in a big way.
They were all shouting at me and looking
around the den, in case the sweets had been
hidden in some nook or cranny.

I didn't know what to do or think, but
just sat there like a dummy.

After a couple of minutes they all stopped
searching, and gathered back around me. It
was like the Spanish Inquisition, whatever
that is, only worse.

'Ludo,' said Jenny, her face grim, 'do you
know what's happened to the sweets?'

'Of course I don't. I'm as puzzled as
you.'

'But you were the last person in here
before we set off on the mission, weren't
you?' said The Moan.

'Well, maybe. I can't remember. But even
if I was, I could hardly have scoffed all
our stash then, could I? You'd have to be a
circus freak to eat that many sweets all in
one go.'

'To be honest,' said The Moan, 'I don't
know what you're capable of. For all we
know you might have a part-time job in
the circus eating sweets.'

'Do they need anyone else?' asked Jamie
hopefully.

Everyone ignored him.

'Do you promise,' said Noah, I think
trying to be helpful, 'that you haven't stolen
our sweets?'

'Of course I haven't. I've never . . .' But
then I paused, and that pause was fatal.

You see, I couldn't promise that I'd never,
ever had the odd extra sweet out of the stash.
Being Gang Leader, I did more work than
the others, especially high-grade thinking
work, such as coming up with new plans,
traps, etc., etc., etc., so I sometimes needed
extra energy – for example from sweets. Plus
I put the most sweets into the stash in the
first place, especially ones I don't like, such
as coconut-flavoured Quality Street.

But that pause after 'never' made them all
point at me, and say things like: 'See, see,
he did it, it was him.'

I tried saying no, but I was drowned out.
I felt weak and helpless and I wanted to
cry, but I didn't because I'm brave. Instead
of crying I hung my head.

After a minute Noah said, 'Ludo, do you
absolutely swear on the Holy Bible that you
never took any sweets out of the stash?'

'That's not fair,' I began, 'I . . .'

And I was going to explain about the odd
sweet I'd taken in the past, and after that I'd
swear on any bible from any religion in the
world they liked, including Hindu, Buddhist,
Eskimo, Inca, etc. etc., that it wasn't me that
had scoffed the whole stash this time, when
Jenny's clear voice rang out.

'What's this?'

The Gang swivelled
towards her. She
was holding up
my binocular
case. There was
something different
about it. A tiny
corner of shiny
gold paper was
poking out from
under the flap of
the case. Jenny popped it open. The case
was crammed full of sweet wrappers. In fact
it was so full they literally burst out like a
firework display, all gold and green and red
and silver and blue.

I think I'd have been happier then if they'd
all gone crazy. But what happened was
worse, much worse. It was a sort of groan,
long and sad and desolate. The sound you
sometimes hear on an animal programme
when a baby whatever – say zebra or whale
– loses its mother.

It was the sound of friendship dying.

'Oh, Ludo,' said Noah, on the brink of,
well, you know. 'How could you?'

'But . . . but . . . but . . .'

The truth was I was as stunned as any
of them.