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A Bunch of Battlers

Billy climbed to the top of the rocks above the camp and watched
for Pete. The wind blew dust into his eyes as he scrambled down
to shelter in the cave with Robyn.
“Isawhim!”Billyannounced
Robyn put the billy on to boil and cut up a cake she had cooked in
the camp oven the day before. Soon, Pete, dusty and wind-
blown, joined them. They talked of their week, as they sipped the
sweet tea and munched slabs of cake.
Later the children decided to have a look at the view from the
top of the rocks. It was exciting to feel the wind tugging at hair
and clothing. They watched trees bending; small shrubs
uprooted, tumbling across the ground, and clouds of dust
swirling.
Meanwhile Mike had checked the windmill. He was about to turn
for home when he saw an enormous feral pig. He pulled the rifle
from its pouch along the side of the motorbike, sighted, and
fired. The pig was slightly injured and it ran. Mike started the bike
and gave chase. The pig streaked across the plain in the direction
of the rocky hill – headingtowardsthechildren’shideout!
“Pete!”yelledRobynabovethewind“Look!Someone’scoming!
He’schasingapig!”
The hunt came nearer and nearer. Dust swirled around the rider.
About 100 metres from the foot of the hill, eyes stinging from
grit, Mike saw a rock too late. He swerved, but the bike struck
the side of it. Bike and rider fell in a tangled heap.
Pete went flying down the rocks – racing to help Mike, who was
trapped under the motorbike, its motor still roaring. Robyn and
Billy followed, slipping and falling in their haste.
Pete hit the kill switch and the roaring stopped. With a mighty
heave he lifted the bike off Mike – who lay unconscious – and set
it on its side stand.
“Pete– Thepig!Lookout!”Robynscreamed
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