“You’re joking.”
“No, always carry it. Never know when you might need it.” Micky took the chocolate gratefully, and they both unwrapped the sweets. “Mmm. Tastes a million times better here, doesn’t it?” said Lily.
“Yup,” Micky said. “Thanks.”
“No, it’s me who should say thanks,” said Lily. “I’m really sorry. I’ll try not to be so useless tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” said Micky. “It was the shock of the jump. Crazy, wasn’t it?”
“Really frightening.” Lily shivered. “I think we ought to start looking for the others tomorrow.”
“Agreed,” Micky replied, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“Do you think they’re still alive?” Lily asked. Micky shrugged. Inside he had a strange feeling that Molly and Petula were all right, since they seemed to have a habit of falling on their feet. “If we use our compasses and follow the coordinates to the stones, I’m sure we’ll find them. Now let’s get some sleep. Yam for breakfast?”
Lily groaned. “Again?” She closed her eyes. “Chocolate croissant!” she murmured dreamily.
“Sausage roll,” Micky replied.
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Lily suggested.
“Chocolate cupcakes.”
“Grilled cheese sandwich…”
Miss Speal sat on a little wooden stool in some bushes high above the camp. She liked this place because it was very private, and yet it had a good view of everything that was happening in the clearing below. She pulled out her blue stone and then hugged it to her chest. “Oh, my dear stone. What shall I do without you?” She began to weep. “I shall miss you.” Then she sat up. She’d heard a noise and voices.
“I vill put a nice hidden trap here,” Miss Oakkton was saying. “Then it’s not too far to walk to check it.”
“And a pit would be good here,” Miss Teriyaki said, slapping away an insect.
Miss Speal jumped up in alarm. She tried to think whether she was doing anything that she might get in trouble for. She was doing nothing. That could get her into Miss Hunroe’s bad books. She quickly shoved her blue stone back into her pocket and, making haste, pushed past the bushes to take the shortcut back to the camp.
The blue stone lay on the ground by the wooden stool. It had not quite dropped into Miss Speal’s pocket. The pocket’s flap had obstructed its entry, and as the woman had hurried away, the movement had tossed out the stone.
Twenty-seven
Petula trotted after Canis, who moved swiftly up the mountain paths. They had been walking since before dawn.
“How much farther, Canis?” Petula called after him. Hearing her panting, Canis stopped.
“We’ll rest now,” he said. “Look, there’s a nice pool of water in the dip of that rock, if you’re thirsty.”
Petula lapped up the sweet cloud-forest water and wiped her muzzle with a wet paw. “We’ve been gone for hours,” she said. “I wonder whether I should have woken Molly to explain.”
“She never would have understood what you were saying,” Canis replied. “Besides, these people are dangerous. Before you involve your mistress, you must see whether they have anything to do with the crazy women you told me about.”
“How many of them did you say there were?” Petula asked, scratching her neck where an insect had bitten her just under her collar.
“Two, but I smelled more in the distance,” Canis replied. “And there was definitely a hint of flowers about them. I smelled the scent of rose thorn and orange blossom. And blood. That’s how I found them in the first place. I found a rabbit that they’d trapped,” he said, getting even more serious. “It hung by its noosed legs, from the branch of a tree.” Petula shivered.
“Let’s hope we don’t step in one of those traps ourselves,” she said.
After a brief rest, they set off again, up the mountain path.
Petula decided she would find out for sure whether this lead of Canis’s was a good one. Then she would report back to Molly before nightfall.
“Smell the barbecue?” Canis asked, sniffing the air with his wet nose. “They must be having a meal.” Petula could detect the whiff of cooked meat—curried cooked meat—on the air. It made her mouth water. Trying to ignore this, she sniffed the wind more, searching for a hint of orange blossom and thorn and rose. She found it.
“It’s them,” she gasped.
“Good work, eh?” Canis gave a short arf. Petula nodded.
The dogs now trod stealthily through the undergrowth, following their noses and reading the air. The smoke from a fire became stronger and stronger, mixed with the smell of baking and the stench of dead animals. And then, just like a car stopping unexpectedly at a dead end, Petula and Canis arrived at a rocky outcropping. It was obviously a place humans liked to be, for there was a wooden stool there and, what was more, the smell of mothballs from someone who had been there only shortly before hung in the air. The person had been scared, too, for the odd smell of electric lemon lingered. Down below was a clearing with eight huts. The two dogs surveyed the scene. From four of the huts wafted floral smells of perfume. Nearby was a hut with a water tank over it that Petula supposed must be the bathroom hut. And closer to the ledge that they were on were two more scruffy-looking huts. Outside these were outdoor cooking stoves and ovens and tables with large chopping boards and bowls on them. Tin basins for washing pans and plates lay on the ground. Nearby was a small water tank on wooden legs.
Much farther to the left, segregated from the other huts by bushes, was a hut that was obviously used by hunters. Outside this one were colorful forest birds, green-and red-feathered parrots and cockatoos, hanging upside down in bunches. A rabbit skin was nailed to a board, drying in the sun.
Canis growled.
“I wonder where they are?” Petula pondered.
Just then Miss Speal came out of the kitchen hut with oven gloves on. She opened the oven door and pulled out a hot cake pan. Then she poked at the barbecue fire.
“She must be the cook,” said Canis. “I wonder where the hunters are. Can you smell them?”
Petula sniffed. A mixed odor of sweat and whisky, with an edge of blood, was very dense in the air. Then she smelled the mothball smell very close to her on the ground. She put her nose down and sniffed. The smell led her to a beautiful blue stone. Unable to resist it, Petula picked it up in her mouth and gave it a suck. It felt smooth and cool.
“Gives me the creeps,” Canis was saying. “They don’t smell of anything good.” As he spoke, a cloud began to thicken in the sky above.
Petula nodded. “And is it my imagination,” she said, “or is their scent getting stronger?” Her heart began to pound, and her fur bristled.
“You’re right,” Canis agreed, looking alarmed. “They’re behind us. Getting closer. Quick! Run!” He put his head down and dashed into the bushes.
Petula followed Canis. It was a bad move.
Moments later, a cord caught around Petula’s back foot. This released a trap catch. The cord tightened, and with a yank that practically pulled off her limb, she was tugged up from her paws and swung into the air.
Petula nearly swallowed her new stone from the shock. Her world turned upside down. And then a horrible pain in her leg cut through her. The ground was now ten feet below her, her body hung heavy and helpless from the hunter’s noose. Canis barked up at her.
Minutes later, Miss Oakkton and Miss Teriyaki arrived.
“I don’t believe it!” said Miss Teriyaki. “A wild pug! The Chinese were in South America long ago, so obviously the breed stayed here. How extraordinary!”’