The Publicity Push

by Christopher Cummings

  Stephen clambered up onto a ledge to look higher up the rock face. Margaret let out a little cry and bent to pick something up.

  “Look what I found!”

  On the palm of her hand was a nugget the size of a marble that had been lying in a crevice. They all stared at it in wonder and it was passed from hand to hand. Kylie marvelled at how heavy the nugget was. It was gold for sure. Her last doubts were dispelled. She began to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “Oh we’ve done it! We’ve found the gold mine!” she cried. She embraced Margaret and then they were all shouting and dancing. Graham even hugged Margaret in the excitement. Peter jigged up and down and it was him slipping and falling into the creek that calmed them down.

  “Are you alright Peter?” Kylie asked as Peter struggled to his feet.

  Peter nodded and grinned. “Yes.”

  “You are all wet,” Margaret said.

  Peter laughed. “Who cares? We are getting wet anyway.” He gestured at the sky. Rain was now falling steadily and they were getting soaked anyway.

  Margaret held the nugget out to Uncle Bill. “Here you are Uncle Bill, your first gold.”

  Uncle Bill smiled and shook his head. “You keep it. You found it. There is plenty more.”

  “But it’s yours,” Margaret insisted.

  Again Uncle Bill shook his head. “No it isn’t. No-one has pegged and registered a claim yet. Please keep it Margaret.”

  Margaret murmured her thanks. Graham said: “Quick Uncle Bill, mark out your claim before anyone else does.”

  Uncle Bill laughed. “And who else is going to rush in and try to beat us to it? We are in the middle of nowhere remember.”

  Stephen was still up on the rock ledge above them. He knelt on hands and knees and peered into the crevices.

  “What are you looking for Steve?” Peter asked.

  “Wasn’t there some reference about your great grandad collecting some samples in glass jars and storing them somewhere?” Stephen replied.

  “Yes there was,” Kylie replied. She quickly read the letter but the reference wasn’t there. Peter found it, on the last page of the photocopy of the old diary. “Here it is. Grandad Hector says: ‘Fill a dozen jars with gold but too weak to carry them so hide them under the rock overhang’.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Stephen replied. He bent and peered under the rock ledge above the one he was clinging to.

  “Careful Stephen, don’t slip,” Margaret cautioned. Stephen ignored her and groped in under the ferns and tree roots which covered the crevices.

  Suddenly he let out a gasp: “Ah! Yes!” Before their astonished eyes he produced a piece of rotten hessian, then a glass jar with a rusty lid still screwed on. Kylie could only gape, her heart pounding rapidly with excitement. As Stephen held the jar up she could see it was full of gold.

  He passed it down to Graham who let out a cry of amazement. “Strewth! You should feel how heavy this is.”

  The jar was passed around. ‘Finest Pickles’ it said in raised letters on the glass Kylie noted as she took her turn to hold it. She realized instantly why Great Grandad Hector had not taken the bottles. It really was heavy. She could get her fingers a bit over half way round the jar but, small as it was, it was nearly too heavy for her to hold up. She had read about the mass of gold but was not at all prepared for the experience.

  “Are there any more?” Peter asked Stephen.

  Stephen knelt and groped in under the rocks. “Yes. Here, someone give me a hand.”

  The first glass jar was placed gently on a flat rock over to one side. Stephen then passed down more jars, all full of gold. Kylie saw that most of the gold was either flakes or tiny grains not much bigger than sand or sugar granules. Some jars had small nuggets in them and a few had shards of quartz with gold thick in it.

  “There should be a dozen,” Roger reminded as more jars were passed down and lined up.

  Graham shook his head. “Eleven. Great Grandad Hector took one back with him remember,” he said.

  Another jar was passed down. Kylie counted them. Eight so far. Roger stood on tiptoe to peer into the crevice. “We want them all,” he said.

  “Don’t be greedy Roger,” Uncle Bill replied. “That is enough for one each.”

  “Oh we can’t take any of this,” Roger said. “This is your gold, to save the farm. After all, your grandad found it.”

  “We will all share,” Uncle Bill replied. “You helped find it so you all must get some.” He reached up and took another jar from Stephen. “Ten. Anyway, from the feel of these jars just one of them will pay the farm’s debts.”

  “Do you really mean that Uncle Bill,” Kylie asked.

  Uncle Bill placed the jar carefully beside the others, then nodded and said. “Gold is fourteen hundred US dollars an ounce at the moment. I’d guess that one of these jars has several pounds in it. Say five pounds. That is er.. fourteen ounces to the pound... er.”

  Peter did the sum for him. “That would be seventy ounces. At fourteen hundred dollars per ounce, then one jar is worth.. um.. umm.. worth... Holy Moses! Worth ninety eight thousand dollars.”

  Kylie whistled in astonishment and stared at the line of jars. “Ninety eight thousand dollars! Just for one of them. Would that be enough to save the farm Uncle Bill?”

  “Not quite. Two of them would clear the debt nicely though,” Uncle Bill replied.

  “You can have mine,” Kylie offered.

  Uncle Bill shook his head. “As I said, we will share. You can have your fair share.”

  “Ninety eight thousand dollars. What ever would I do with that sort of money?” Kylie said. Her mind boggled at the prospect.

  “Put it in the bank,” Uncle Bill replied. “It would be a nice nest egg to help buy a house when you get married.”

  “Or to help pay university fees and so on,” Peter added.

  “So what are all eleven worth?” Allison asked.

  “Ten. We haven’t found the last one. Is there any sign of it Steve?” Peter said.

  Stephen shook his head. “No. The bag was all rotted away. It might have washed out in a flood.”

  “Or an animal dislodged it,” Roger suggested.

  “I’ll have another look,” Stephen said. He bent and groped under the rocks further along the ledge.

  “Watch out you don’t grab a snake or something,” Graham cautioned.

  By this time Peter had done the sum for eleven jars. “They are worth about one million and seventy eight thousand dollars.”

  Kylie was struck speechless for a second, then gasped: “Over a million dollars! Just here in these jars! Incredible.”

  “And it’s all ours,” Uncle Bill said.

  Even as he said this a voice called out loudly from down the creek: “Wrong! It is ours.”

  They all spun to look in that direction. Kylie stared in horror. Two masked men stood there. Both wore black balaclavas and had guns. Even though their faces were covered she was sure it was the two thugs who had beaten her and Gran. The sight filled her with cold shock.

  “Back off!” snarled one of the men. He gestured with a shotgun.

  ‘Burg’ Kylie thought, noting the pale blue eyes.

  Uncle Bill placed a restraining hand on Graham’s sleeve. “Do as he says. Money isn’t worth getting hurt over.”

  Terrible fears instantly gripped Kylie: that one of the boys might be shot and killed; or badly hurt; that the crooks might take one of the girls as a hostage; that the men might murder them all to stop them talking. She felt her heart pounding with anxiety.

  The other man, thin with dark eyes, stepped forward and placed his rifle down on a rock. He then swung a haversack off his shoulders and picked up the jars one by one and placed them in the haversack.

  “Go easy with them Donk,” the man with the shotgun said as two of the jars clinked noisily together.

  Margaret recovered first. “Those are ours you thief. Leave them alone,” she cried indignantly.

  Th
e man with the shotgun pointed it at her. ‘I wish she hadn’t said that,’ Kylie thought. Even as she thought this Graham stepped across in front of Margaret and Uncle Bill also moved to shield her. The man sneered and snarled: “Shut yer mouth moll. It is ours now. So find yourselves some more.”

  Donk had packed all the jars into his haversack by this. He swung it back on and picked up his rifle. Kylie saw him lick his lips. ‘He’s nervous,’ she thought.

  Donk said: “I got them Burg. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Get goin’. I’ll follow. I...” Burg began. However at that moment Allison slipped on the wet rock she was standing on. She splashed into knee deep water towards him. The shotgun was instantly levelled on her and Kylie’s heart leapt into her mouth. She saw Burg’s eyes flicker, then his mouth twist into a cruel grin. “Well, well! If it isn’t the pretty one who likes to swim in the nude. Maybe you should come with us sweetie. We could teach you a thing or two.”

  Kylie felt her blood run cold as the fearful implications of what Burg was suggesting sank in. Suddenly the situation had taken on a whole new, and very ugly and sordid twist. Allison regained her footing and backed away. She gasped in fear and shock as the implications of what the man had said sank in. In a hoarse whisper she asked: “Were you watching?”

  Burg gave an evil grin and nodded. “Yeah, an’ it was real pretty. Except we was a bit too far away to see properly. So maybe you could show us close up like?”

  “No!” cried Allison fearfully. She moved backwards.

  Uncle Bill stepped forward. “Leave the girls alone. You will be in enough trouble as it is. They haven’t done anything to you.”

  Burg pointed the shotgun at Uncle Bill and glared. For a second Kylie thought he was going to shoot and she was swamped by dread.

  It was Donk who saved the situation. “Leave them Burg. For God’s sake, you’ve done enough already. Let’s get out of here.” He turned and began making his way down the creek.

  Burg twisted his lips in a grimace of frustration but apparently gave up his evil designs on Allison as he snarled: “You people stay here for one hour and don’t try to follow us. If we see you then you just might meet a bit of lead coming the other way.”

  To emphasize this Burg fired the shotgun over their heads. The bang was so loud, and so unexpected, that Kylie let out a scream. So did the other girls. The boys all flinched and Roger looked very pale.

  Burg turned and followed Donk back down the creek. The friends stood in a stunned group and watched them until they vanished from sight.

  Graham spoke first: “Oh quick! We must get after them. They are getting away with all the gold!”

  CHAPTER 26

  TOO LATE

  Uncle Bill held up his hand. “No. We stay here till they are gone.”

  “But Uncle Bill!” Graham cried. “They are getting away with the gold.”

  “Let them. I don’t care. I don’t want any of you hurt,” Uncle Bill replied.

  Stephen, who was still clinging to the ledge above them, added: “Anyway, they didn’t get all the gold. Look.”

  He was holding the eleventh jar and grinning. That started them all talking. Kylie moved to Allison, who had started to cry. Margaret joined her.

  “Those disgusting, horrible men!” Allison whispered. “Watching me swimming. They were going to.. going to..” She could not finish.

  Kylie hugged her. “I know. It’s alright now Allie. They have gone.”

  As they talked the rain began to fall more heavily. The sound of the drops hitting the leaves was so loud they had to raise their voices to be heard over it. Graham was still fuming over the crooks getting the gold.

  “They can’t have gone far,” he persisted. “We could follow them and at least see what type of vehicle they are driving so we can tell the police.”

  “No,” Uncle Bill replied firmly.

  “But they are getting away with all the gold!” Graham cried. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

  “No we can’t,” Uncle Bill agreed. “We won’t. They haven’t got all the gold at all. Most of it is still here in the ground, so we will use the time to mark out our claims.”

  “What a good idea!” Kylie cried. She got up and helped Allison to her feet.

  “Who gets what?” Stephen asked.

  “Uncle Bill gets this rock face,” Kylie replied.

  There was no disagreement about that, but a lot of discussion about where, if anywhere, the quartz reef might run. The upshot was that Kylie was given the next claim uphill, then Graham, as being blood relatives. A second run of three was given to Peter, Roger and Stephen upstream of that. Allison was given the one across the creek where the rocks vanished underground again, and Margaret opted for a section on the downstream side of the rock face.

  Half an hour was spent cutting and placing marker pegs to ‘stake’ their claims. Uncle Bill had the correct pieces of paper to put on each peg. These were filled out with some difficulty as the heavy rain persisted. Peter and Roger held their rain coats to make a roof to keep the paper dry while Uncle Bill wrote. The papers were then placed in plastic ‘snap lock’ bags and wired to the marker pegs or trees.

  As they worked Uncle Bill kept looking anxiously up at the tree tops. “I don’t like this rain,” he muttered. “We had better get moving or we could get cut off by floods.”

  “This creek has risen already,” Graham observed. Kylie saw that he was right. Where it had been only ankle deep it was now knee deep and flowing more swiftly. Rocks that had been exposed were now covered.

  Uncle Bill looked at his watch and bit his lip. “It has been over half an hour. Those men must surely be well out of the area by now. Let’s go.”

  It was 10:30 by then and raining heavily. Kylie was glad to be moving as she was feeling cold. They splashed their way down the creek, slipping and sliding on the rocks or wading along the sandy stretches.

  “Doesn’t make any difference,” Graham said. “We are soaked anyway.”

  They reached the junction of the two creeks and found the end of the track. That was easier going and Kylie was thankful to be out of the water. Graham and Peter now led, scouting ahead the way they had been taught to do in the army cadets. Uncle Bill, Roger and Stephen came next; Stephen having great difficulty as his glasses kept getting wet, despite his hat.

  A couple of minutes walking had them up on the steep spur where the track went around above the small cliff. From then on things got easier as the track became better and better. Hector’s camp was passed and they walked quickly on around the side of the ridge. Within five minutes they were at the moss covered rocks.

  “I can see now why these rocks have moss on them,” Roger commented.

  Stephen gave a short laugh, then said: “What I’m wondering is how those crooks knew where to come.”

  Kylie had thought the same thing but did not want to voice it.

  Roger did. “They must have just followed us,” he suggested. “That wouldn’t have been hard. We cut a clear enough track.”

  “But all the way from Kearneys Flat?” Stephen replied. “How did they know to come to the Mulgrave Valley?”

  “Just guessed I suppose,” Roger replied.

  “I’ll bet Bert told them,” Stephen suggested.

  “Oh he did not!” Allison cried unhappily. “He promised he wouldn’t. And he’s not one of the gang!”

  “You hope,” Stephen replied sarcastically.

  “He’s not!” Allison cried in anguish.

  “Stephen, stop it!” Kylie cried. “It doesn’t matter how they found us. They did.”

  The boys in front had heard the argument and stopped. Uncle Bill frowned. “We have enough problems without bickering among ourselves so please be quiet.”

  Stephen muttered sullenly and took off his glasses to try to dry them with his damp handkerchief. Kylie glared daggers at him, her anger stoked by the realization that it was a wasted effort as he could not see how hurtful his comments wer
e.

  The group continued walking and was soon at Franks Claim. As they walked several strong wind gusts shook the tree tops violently.

  “That cyclone must be getting closer,” Peter commented.

  “Listen to your radio Uncle Bill,” Roger suggested.

  Uncle Bill shook his head. “When we get back to the Old Prospector’s camp. We should be there in time for the news at eleven.”

  Nugget Creek was their next problem. The rain had already raised its level and it was flowing swiftly. There was no chance of crossing dry. As they were all soaked this did not matter but safety was an issue. Kylie also began to worry that they would have trouble walking far with their packs. Wet clothes would chafe and wet feet would blister more easily.

  One by one they crossed the creek, holding hands and helping each other across the deepest part, which was now thigh deep. The water was cold and even though it was only a few paces Kylie found it scary.

  “I didn’t like that,” she commented as they stood dripping on the far side.

  “No, if the Mulgrave is like that it will be very dangerous to cross,” Uncle Bill said. “I’m afraid we may have left it too late.”

  They started to move off. However they had not gone ten paces before Graham suddenly ducked down and urgently signalled to take cover. A spasm of sickening fear coursed through Kylie. She moved over behind a tree and waved to Margaret and Allison to do the same.

  Someone was running along the track towards them. She could hear the squelching thud of his footfalls before he came into view. ‘Oh, I hope it isn’t one of the crooks,’ she thought anxiously.

  The runner burst into view around the bend in the track. Kylie gaped in astonishment. Bert!

  Bert saw them at the same moment and slowed down. A look of relief crossed his face. He looked quite exhausted and was red in the face. For a minute he was too winded to speak. It was obvious he had run a long way. When Allison saw him she raced forward to embrace him. He smiled with relief and hugged her.