by Suzanne Walding

Created on: April 05, 2010

MUDDY  WATERS

             Like Red Indians lined up on a ridge in an arrogant show of strength before an attack, the Carter kids stood, proudly surveying their territory before charging down to the river.

            “Yaaahhh”.  Their war cry echoed off the opposite embankment.

            Two of the six boys were slower and managed to stop before the waters edge, but the others didn’t even try.  Yelling and splashing, they made enough noise for a whole tribe.

            The group was made of three families.  At fourteen Evan was the oldest and his nine year old cousin Brad was the youngest.  It was these two who stood back and watched the others.

            Looking at the small, pale boy Evan asked, “Can you swim Brad?”

            “Why?”

            “Jeez! In case you fall in or something and I have to save you.”

            “I won’t.”

            The now very wet boys came running towards the two dry boys, shaking themselves like dogs.  Grabbing Brad, Evan almost dragged him up the embankment knowing the others wouldn’t have the energy left to make the effort.  Halfway up Brad stumbled, out of breath.  Changing tactics Evan called out.

            “Hey, I thought you guys wanted to catch yabbies?”  He then led the way to the river bend.

            The others followed, jostling and teasing about wet pants with brown and green stains on the back.  Evan made sure that Brad walked furthest from the river.  He didn’t want the skylarking to get out of hand.

            At the bend, there was a bit of a creek.  In the middle of summer it was dry except for a narrow channel, about thirty metres long.  The mud was black and oozy, and the water was full

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