We been over the escape route so many times, we don’t even need to use the map. First, we head towards the places we hide the bits and pieces we been collecting. Coins, a knife, a hessian bag, matches, a couple of shirts. Then we leave a trail. Back in the main tunnel, we start to hear voices. The guards must be finally overcome Holt and now they coming after us. James and me forget bout trying to be quiet, start running. More voices, footsteps, orders shouted. Closer and closer, the voices and footsteps keep coming.

‘The bolters went this way,’ I hear one of the guards shout.

They must be find the trail. But is a trail that go nowhere, only deep inside one of the passages to a dead end.

No time to think, we just run and keep on running. Bend as low as we can, backs and shoulders scraping against the stone walls. I made notches in the wooden beams to tell us how much further we have to go. First mile come and gone. Second mile, we start to slow. The tunnel getting tighter, bundled up with the last heat of the day making us sweat even more. Suddenly we hear shouts again. I look back see a light way, way down the tunnel of the bore. We reach the place where we left one of the beams loose. Is a last resort, one I line up just in case. The light and voices keep getting closer. We claw and tug at the beam, our fingers bloody. James shake his head, like he can’t keep going.

‘Pull!’ I scream. ‘Pull!’

One last pull, and with that the beam break, dragging loose stones down with it, filling the tunnel with billowing dust. We might be safe now.

One more half mile to go. We tired, we bruised, we sore. No thoughts, just the sound of ragged breathing. Finally up ahead, a welcome sight: a dull light pouring in.

Gasping for breath, we make it to the end of the bore. Creep forward, look up the shaft at the sky, hold our breath, see no head looming over. I climb up the wooden ladder, inch by inch. Reach the top, wait, listening. It seem so quiet. Sounds back in the tunnel, they must be reach the broken-down beams. I poke me head out over the top and look round. No guards, no soldiers, nothing but the marsh of the Lachlan Swamps. I nod the all clear to James and we lumber up out of the shaft and into the light of the late afternoon sun.