Billy was gasping for breath when he came up with him, and had been sobbing; his face was stained with dirt and the tracks of tears. He looked at Matthew, full of guilt and trust.

Matthew asked him: ‘What are you doing here, Billy? You followed me. Why?’

‘I want to come with you.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘It’s too far, and a bit too hard. You’d better go back.’

Billy said: ‘I knew you would go, after you’d said you would. And then this morning you went out of the tent, and I saw you had the gun with you, so I knew it was today. I kept as far behind as I could, and then I lost sight of you and I didn’t know what to do. But I went up on the cliffs and watched, and I saw you moving, a long way off. So I ran down and tried to follow you. But I couldn’t tell where I was going, and I got lost. That’s when I yelled out.’ He looked guilty again. ‘I didn’t want to, in case Miller and the others heard, but I was lost.’

Matthew sat down on a ledge of rock, easing the pack from his back, and Billy sat beside him. Matthew said:

‘I must go alone, Billy, and you must go back to the camp. They can look after you, and I can’t. You must see that’s sensible.’