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vast rock formation on the side of the mountain. It sloped upwards at an angle gentle enough to scramble up. They surprised a family of small wallabies who skittered away. Some minutes later, Mat and Bill found a metre-long goanna warming itself in the sun. They stood back to let it escape, watching its lumbering crocodile run.
    By night-fall, the rock shelter felt like home. Mat and Bill used little ledges as shelves for their few, simple possessions. The hootchie was now a rug. The fire was their light, their warmth, their comforter, their provider of cooked food. The two friends ate hot noodles, the last of the chocolate, and drank plenty of water. The children knew they were going to enjoy their sleep no matter what the weather brought. And that’s what happened.
    By the Monday morning, it felt to Mat and Bill that they had been in the bush for an uncountable number of days. Their life was fire building, fire gazing, eating, water fetching, some quiet talking, sitting in the creek, some fishless fishing, some exploring – over and over again. But by afternoon, the adventure had to come to an end. The children doused the fire with water, stowed away their things (including Nan’s precious fire-sticks) in the backpack, and started walking the two kilometres down the track to Tom’s tent.
    â€˜How can we get to do more of this camping?’ asked Bill.
    â€˜I’ve been wondering that myself,’ said Mat.
    â€˜We can’t keep expecting Tom to take us. He has the markets most weekends.’
    â€˜And the same with Mum and Dad,’ said Mat.
    The craft markets were a mainstay of the Grub family’s income. Not only did Tom sell artwork, but Donald sold his garden furniture, Tessa sold jams and garden produce, and Nan sold crocheted rugs.
    â€˜And my mum sells her folk art if she’s not doing overtime at the laundromat,’ added Bill.
    The two friends were walking in silence, when Mat suddenly said, ‘Bingo!’
    â€˜What?’ asked Bill.
    â€˜Scouts!’ said Mat.
    â€˜Good one,’ said Bill. ‘Yeah, we’ll join the Scouts.’

Back at the Grubs’ house that night, the two weary adventurers did not mention their plans for joining the Scouts. Matty’s mum and dad and Bill’s mum wanted to hear all the details about the screaming koala and the storm. The two families were comfortably lounging in saggy armchairs around the fireplace in the Grubs’ tiny sitting room. A fire crackled in the grate. Everyone had hot drinks. Mat and Bill drank creamy rich hot chocolate. A trolley laden with home-made muffins and biscuits was within arm’s reach.
    Matty had the family sitting on the edge of theirseats when she described the sound of the screams and the way Bill, rock in hand, placed himself in front of her, ready to save her life. Tears formed in Donald’s eyes. He placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder, ‘You’re a man, Bill – and a good one. Thank you.’
    Bill felt Tom deserved a mention. He said, ‘Tom walked up to explain what the noise was all about, though.’
    â€˜You weren’t to know there was no danger,’ said Tom. ‘What counts is that you were prepared to put your life on the line for our Matty.’
    â€˜Hear, hear,’ said Nan.
    â€˜A toast to Bill,’ said Tessa, holding up her cup of tea.
    Everyone in the room held their cups in the air and cheered. Bill saw the pride in his mum’s eyes. He wanted to smile, but he thought that might look show-offy, so he looked down at the ground.
    â€˜Okay, next part of the story,’ urged Donald.
    Bill started recounting the story of the storm up until the bit where the hootchie was blown off. Then Mat took over the storytelling. This was fair because at that point in the tale, Bill had been so freezing thathe wasn’t thinking clearly; he had just wanted to be left alone. In fact, the night was still a weird mix of memories,