Ben picked up the binoculars and surveyed the panorama spread beyond the canopy of trees. The atmosphere was heavy and still, the thunder grumbling in the distance as lightning forked over the far hills. Dark clouds were building all around, casting deep shadows across the plains and the rocky outcrops. But there was no sign of fire – not yet anyway.

He turned the powerful binoculars onto the bush canopy and found the caves above the trickling waterfall which Django’s tribe had once used as shelter and which still had ancient paintings on the walls. Billy Blue and Danny had crawled inside, but their legs were dangling over the ledge as they competed to throw their stones into the water that splashed over the rocks from the underground spring and eventually ran into a large pool at the bottom of the hill.

He grinned as he remembered how he and his mates used to hide in the same place when they wanted to dodge lessons or the endless round of chores. ‘Sorry, boys,’ he murmured, as he reached for the two-way radio he’d rigged up to the generator. ‘It’s time to go home.’

The radio crackled and whined through the headset as he gave his call sign and waited impatiently for Jake Webber to answer. Jake was either courting Emily Harris in her little cottage behind the school, or more likely dozing in the hammock on his front veranda, oblivious to everything. There was very little crime in the area, and although he also acted as an assistant fireman, Jake had far too much time on his hands.

Ben was about to cut the connection when Jake’s sleepy voice broke through the static. ‘G’day, mate. You gotta problem up there?’

‘Nothing serious to report, Jake. But Rebecca’s been looking for Danny, and I’ve just spotted him and Billy up at the caves. Could you tell her he’s fine, and that I’ll be bringing him home?’

‘No worries, mate.’

‘Thanks. And Jake, try to stay alert. The storm’s brewing and I’ll need you on fire-watch tonight.’

‘No worries,’ he drawled again. ‘Catch you later.’

Ben cut the connection, took one more look at the distant bank of black cloud and reluctantly left the tower. He and Jake were in for a long night of surveillance if that storm didn’t break, for the bush was as dry as tinder and it would only take a single bolt of lightning to start a serious fire.

‘I’m off to get the boys,’ he told Django, who was lounging on the couch with a doorstep mutton sandwich and a mug of tea. ‘Stay close to the radio until I get back. Should only be about half an hour.’

‘Righto, boss.’ Django settled more comfortably into the cushions and slurped his tea.