Mystic Mountains

grew more and more fretful and Isabella felt so dreadfully tired and filled with misery that at times she wished she could just fall down and go to sleep never to wake up. Thelma's cough grew steadily worse, and her cheeks hollow, losing weight she could ill afford.
    They let the bullock s free to forage for food then wasted a day looking for them. But at least it provided them with a rest day. They made damper and a cake in the camp oven, which cheered them. Tim rarely left Isabella's side, his eyes filled with a wariness that clutched at her heart. The pups were transferred to the uncovered wagon, for he'd lost interest in them.
    Then they came to Mount York.
    Everybody knew its reputation and had been speaking of it in awed whispers over the previous evening's meal. A brooding quiet now crept over them as Tiger brought Satan up and handed Tim, who'd been riding with him, over to Isabella.
    Johnny grimaced, scratching at his head, as Tiger rode off to speak to the driver of the leading wagon. The valley coming up to what was commonly called The Big Hill was awful, the road hidden from view amid the trees.
    Small trees had to be lopped to wedge behind the wheels of the drays and wagons to stop them slipping backwards. It was grueling work. When they got to the top they had to reverse the order, chaining logs behind to stop them from sliding forwards.
    "The other slopes were nothing compared to this," Isabella whispered, a hand to her throat, as she, Thelma and Agnes stared wide-eyed and fearful at the steep drop before them. The animals that had already been taken over couldn 't be seen at the bottom, about a mile away.
    "Tiger says we 're about four thousand feet above the sea." Thelma was having trouble drawing each breath and her face was so grey it scared Isabella as much as the road they must descend.
    Tiger shouted orders, and the first dray began its cautious descent, sliding on the surface made slippery by rain.
    "Come on, we'd better start walking," Isabella said, glancing to where Tiger watched the progress intently.
    The three women began to walk, Tim clutching at Isabella 's hand. Her other hand kept her skirt high to stop her from tripping. Lily trailed them, keeping her distance. Thelma waved to Gillie, who waited with Dougal and the group of men watching the slow descent of the dray.
    The going was so steep stones tumbled beneath their feet and they had to keep their bodies balanced backwards to stop from falling headlong down the slope.
    "I 'll have to rest," Thelma groaned when they'd barely gone a hundred feet. "My legs are aching fit to drop off."
    "So are mine." Isabella was panting, her calves burning. They flopped down on a log to one side of the track and she squinted up the hill. The dray had moved barely a few feet, and the cursing of the men rang through the trees. "Don 't look like they're making much progress."
    "Heavens, this isn 't fit to call a road," Thelma complained. "Where Tiger got the notion to drag us into this hell, I'm sure I don't know." With a hand to her chest she dragged in air as if starved of it. "This time he's bit off . . . a bit more than he can chew."
    Barely had the words left her mouth when a cry went up, bouncing off the other hills. The bullocks began to bellow, and the teamsters to yell. Pandemonium broke out.
    "Heavens, it's slipping. They can't hold it, Thelma."
    Isabella stood , a hand pressed to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. The dray had slewed sideways. Men were shouting, the dray was groaning, and stones were sliding beneath its wheels, tumbling and rolling towards them. The horses began to whinny, high shrill sounds proclaiming their fear.
    "It 's coming apart," Isabella cried. "My God, it looks as if the kingbolt has come out!"
    The wagon body , along with the load, was sliding one way while the fore-carriage and bullocks were going in the other direction.
    "Get about this side," she heard Tiger shout loud and clear among the confusion. "In heaven 's name get your weight behind it."
    "Hang onto Tim, and don 't let him follow me." Isabella thrust his small hand into Agnes's. Picking up a handful of her skirt she began to climb. Her bad foot began to sting with pain and her breath became labored as she put one foot in front of the other, feeling as if she was trying to run through molasses.
    As she neared the dray she saw that the teamster, thankfully, had his bullocks well out of the way. But the wagon bod y had almost overturned and come to a