The Uprising by Eirlys Hunter

Author:Eirlys Hunter [Hunter, Eirlys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781776574063
Publisher: Gecko Press
Published: 2021-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

“Look! It says Ma, then X-marks-the-spot.”

“Good reading,” said Sal.

“Max Ext?” said Joe. “Is it a name?”

Hessa said she knew a Max, but no one in Cruxcia was called Ext. Maybe the sign had been put there as a prank. Maybe some of it was missing. But it looked new and a familiar shade of brownish-red. It had to be something to do with the Cowboys.

“Max usually stands for maximum,” said Sal. “It could be short for Maximum Extent.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Hessa.

“It’s the furthest point of something. As far as it goes,” said Sal.

“As far as what goes?” asked Joe.

“No idea yet,” said Sal. She borrowed a blue pencil from Francie and made a tiny blue “x” on the scroll inside the altimeter. She’d think about it as they walked along.

The road grew steeper. They came to Prontin Bridge and crossed the river.

“This is where the map stops,” said Hessa.

The road became more of a track as it wound up and up into the mountains. After a steep stretch they stopped for a rest and a snack. Francie put a hand to her ear. Listen.

There were strange noises ahead: whistles, barks and a thunderous rumbling. They stood warily and looked around. There was nowhere to hide. The sounds grew louder, then hundreds of sheep came careering around the bend in the track. Carrot shrieked and flew over them to the safety of a tree.

They stood still while the sheep streamed past, driven down the valley by a boy and a girl and four sheepdogs. The girl’s whistled instructions sent a dog racing after a sheep that was looking for a private route to the river. The boy sent another dog sprinting around the mob to stop them spilling through a gap in the trees.

“They’re bringing the sheep down for the winter,” Hessa said, “before the winter rain. They’ll bring them back up in spring.” She knew the girl from school. She shouted to her, and the girl called back, but couldn’t stop to talk. “She doesn’t know anything about the sign—it must be new, and she says there’s rain coming.”

When they were far enough past the dogs, Joe tried out the calls he’d heard. “Coo-rup, bay-o, bay-o.” And with index fingers in her mouth, Francie made the whistle. Francie never spoke. She sometimes laughed, and occasionally hummed to herself when she was happy, but this was the first time she’d whistled, and by far the loudest sound she’d ever made. The notes were exactly the ones that had sent the dog towards the river.

“Wow, Francie!” Sal was astonished. She tried to do the whistle, too. She couldn’t. Humphrey ran around pretending to be a dog while Francie whistled and laughed.

They were surprised to come up behind another ox cart plodding up the steep track so slowly a snail could overtake it. The tray was piled high with lumpy sacks.

“Where do you think it’s going?” asked Sal.

Hessa asked the driver, who just shrugged and smiled and said something incomprehensible.

“I don’t know what language that was,” she said.

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