He looked around the half-a-dozen tunnels again for a moment, before saying, “God only knows how we’re going to explore this tunnel network properly; even with a dozen or more cops?”

*      *      *

After what seemed like hours they emerged out onto the surface of Mount Abergowrie.   Garbarla half expected to see stars overhead, and was surprised to find it was only early afternoon when they stepped out onto the mount again.

“So who feels like lunch?” asked Bear as they started down the mount.   “My shout.”

Ignoring the offer, Garbarla said, “Assuming you can find that thing tomorrow, how are you planning to kill it?”

Bear considered for a moment, before saying, “Shoot it.   Surely bullets will stop it?”

Garbarla and Geraldine exchanged an uncertain look.

“Weari-Wyingga said there was no known way of killing the Evil, Big-Eyed One,” pointed out Garbarla.

“You’re assuming that it is some kind of supernatural Dream-Time monster,” said Bear.   “Even if it is this Evil, Big-Eyed One, there’s no reason to think it’s magical.   It could be just some freak of nature, or the last member of some underground species seen in ancient times by Aborigines when their weapons — boomerangs, spears, stone clubs, and so on — weren’t powerful enough to penetrate its thick steel-like exoskeleton.   But with modern weapons — high-powered rifles, magnum bullets, etc. — we ought to be able to squash this oversized bug.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Geraldine, sounding unconvinced.

*      *      *

Bear Ross spent the rest of that day on the telephone organising more than a dozen police from all the neighbouring towns to take part in the underground hunt the next day.

*      *      *

Geraldine and Garbarla were lying snuggling up together early the next morning trying to ignore the insistent chirping of the birds outside and the sun glinting beneath the bedroom blind, when the hammering started at the front door of Geraldine’s flat.

“Open up in there, it’s the police!” shouted Bear Ross, hammering his fist on the door again.