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out like they had all the time in the
world.
    "We'll wait for you at the end of the
trail," Charlie said to them.
    Then we ran off along the red dirt track
before they had time to disagree. Although the first bit was really
steep we ran and ran, so they couldn't catch up. A few times, I
glanced down into the canyon. It was a long, long way down. You
wouldn't want to fall. You'd end up dead - very dead.
    We passed lots of people on the track. They
looked us up and down, like we were crazy. I knew what they were
thinking. It's not a race, you silly boys. Take
your time and look at the views.
    But we weren't crazy. We just didn't like
doing walks with Mom and Dad. I knew they'd stop and look at every
view of the canyon from every possible place they could. Dad
would've gone on and on about how the canyon was made millions and
millions of years ago by water carving out a big chunk of the
ground. Like we cared. We were on holidays, not at school.
    There was a rock shaped like a wave not far
from the trail. We sat inside it and got our breath. I picked up a
red stone and drew a croc on the orange wall. I made the lines real
simple like it was an Aboriginal rock painting. Charlie copied me.
He drew a snake.
    Then I got a brilliant idea. I drew a
spaceship and a bunch of aliens with three eyes. Charlie laughed
and added a comet, some stars and a bunch of figures.
    "We should wait for Mom and Dad," I said,
"and pretend we found this rock art."
    "Mom knows when we're lying. She knows us
too well."
    I was going to argue with him, but he was
probably right. "Well, let's try to convince someone else that
we've just found these pictures."
    He thought about it for a second. "See if
you can convince someone. And then I'll have a go."
    Typical. Charlie had to make every single
thing into a competition. I went out onto the track. A few people
passed, but I didn't stop them. They looked real serious and were
walking fast without talking. Next, an old couple came up the
track. They were walking pretty slow and chatting about how
magnificent the canyon was. Perfect victims, I reckoned.
    I backed back so I was out of sight. Then,
when they were at just the right spot, I came running out looking
real excited.
    "Come and have a look at this!" I waved for
them to follow me. Their wrinkled faces lit up and they followed.
It was easy. I could be the Pied Piper leading them over the edge
of the cliff for all they knew.
    We reached the wave rock and I showed them
the Aboriginal rock art. "Charlie and me just found it," I said,
real excited.
    "How exciting," said the old woman.
    "Goodness me," said the old man.
    The old woman smiled at me and took a closer
look. She bent her head one way and then the other, like she was
some sort of expert on Aboriginal rock art. Then she looked down
and picked up my red rock.
    I should've chucked it away. Mega-dumb!
    She laughed. Lucky it was a nice kind laugh
and not a mean nasty vicious laugh. She said to the old man,
"Arthur, I think we've got a couple of practical jokers here." She
said to me, "You remind me of my grandson; he'd play a joke like
this. When I get home, I'll tell him about your ancient Aboriginal
rock art. He'll love hearing about it."
    "Oh well," I said, "I tried."
    They laughed, said it was nice to meet us
and went back to the track.
    Charlie gave me a smug look.
    I chucked my red rock away and told him to
do better. He went out to the trail while I waited. Five minutes
later, Charlie was back with twin boys, who must've been about five
years old. What? That wasn't fair. Any idiot could convince a five
year old.
    Charlie whispered as though his discovery
was a big secret only they were allowed to share. Their eyes
widened in amazement. Charlie had them hanging on to every word
like he'd made the most important discovery in the history of
Australia.
    I wondered where their parents were. What
sort of parents let their five-year-old boys disappear with a
strange teenager? Any minute they might appear and