Arthur Upfield - The bushman who came back

“All the aborigines, so I was assured, were away on walkabout at the time Mrs Bell was murdered, and yet blind Canute knew the shape of the bloodstain on the dead woman’s back. That the shape had been described to him by Yorky, or by any other white man, could not be seriously considered, because to a white man the shape would be relatively unimportant. Therefore, one aborigine did not go with the tribe on walkabout; one aborigine actually saw the body and the shape of the bloodstain, which he conveyed to Canute.

“I was compelled to employ unorthodox means of finding that particular aborigine. He is called Beeloo, a very old man for whom the walkabout was too much for his strength. Beeloo stayed behind and went a little walkabout alone. Coming to the day Mrs Bell was killed, he knew it was a Thursday, and that every Thursday Mr Wootton went to Loaders Springs. He knew that, save for Linda, Mrs Bell would be alone at the homestead, and he decided to ask her for a plug of tobacco.

“On reaching the homestead by his own devious way, he saw Yorky and Linda out on the lake, and he saw, too, a man riding away on the track taken by Arnold in his truck earlier that day. Unfortunately, distance, plus dust, plus mirage distortion, prevented him from identifying the rider or even the colour of the horse. He looked upon Mrs Bell’s body, and then believed that Yorky was involved in the murder, and, finally, he knew where Yorky was heading to gain sanctuary.

“This adventure of Beeloo’s was ultimately reported fully to Canute, and still I haven’t yet answered the question of why Canute pulled his young men off hunting for Yorky. Yorky isn’t a blackfeller, but Yorky was sealed into Canute’s tribe and was married to Sarah by aboriginal rites. So Yorky, despite his colour, is one of themselves, and consequently entitled to their loyalty. That loyalty would remain even if Yorky had killed Mrs Bell.

“I was like a man bushed until I tested the prints said to have been left by Yorky and proved them to be forgeries. By whom? Not by Yorky, but by another who had planned to inculpate Yorky. That man must be he who was seen riding away. He was one of the three stockmen who had ridden from the homestead before Mr Wootton left, or someone from the station to the south of Mount Eden.

“At the time Yorky came back from town, I reasoned that he might know of the northern rivers in flood and yet be unaware of the seriousness of the flooding. I reasoned that the horseman seen by Beeloo would know where Yorky was going, would know about the flood-water sweeping into Lake Eyre, and be well aware of the probability of Yorky and the child being isolated on a sandbank in the centre, and therefore doomed. Lastly, I gambled that if he knew that I was to bring Yorky and Linda back from the lake, he himself would be endangered, and would make a move to stop us, and to disclose himself.

“I made that early broadcast so that that man would know my intention to seek out Yorky. The murderer had built an edifice to safeguard himself, and he knew it would crash to dust once I contacted Yorky.

“What he didn’t know is that, had he remained inactive, he might have got away with murder for lack of sufficient evidence to put him into the dock.”

A Present for Charlie

“WOULDYOUcare to tell your story, Yorky, or shall I?” Bony asked.

The little man was sitting on the floor, with his back against the house wall, and beside him sat the enormous Sarah. Finding himself the object of general attention, Yorky swiftly looked down at his legs and was shaking his head when Sarah replied for him.

“You beentellin ’ stories goodo, Inspector Bonaparte. You tellem ’better’n my olefren Yorky.”

“Very well, Sarah. Yorky says that when Mr Wootton left him that morning at the camp, he started off for the homestead, but that shot of whisky given by the boss made him a little sleepy. So, before reaching the homestead gate, he slept for a period he cannot estimate, in the shade of a tree.

“Still jittery, he staggered on to the homestead, where he remembers seeing a saddled horse tethered to the yard gate, took little notice of it, and proceeded direct to the open door of the kitchen.

“There he heard voices within, voices raised in angry argument. A man was accusing Mrs Bell of encouraging him, and Mrs Bell was loudly denying anything of the kind. Not wishing to intrude or be discovered listening, Yorky dropped his heavy swag and leaned his Winchester rifle against it, intending to find Linda and talk with her for a little while. He says that when passing the office on the way to the playhouse, he noticed the key in the closed door, and remembered that Mr Wootton sometimes kept a bottle in the office. To use his own words, he was feeling ‘bloody terrible.’

“I think that in Yorky’s condition I might have succumbed to the same temptation. Anyway, Yorky entered the office and he found a bottle, a full bottle of whisky. He intended to take just one hearty nip and replace the bottle exactly where it was, but the nip was so hearty that the tide ebbed by one-third before he realized that a tiddler’s mouthful was actually a whale’s.

“He was sitting in the boss’s chair, and talking to an imaginary companion, when he heard the shot. At first he thought it was the boss shooting crows. Then he remembered that Mr Wootton had gone to town. He decided he had better leave the office, and found difficulty in recalling exactly where the bottle had stood before the tide went out.

“Eventually he left the office and carefully closed the door, and I believe him when he says he was partially blinded by the sunlight, and that he didn’t see Mrs Bell lying on the ground until about to trip over her body. He heard sounds inside the house, which, I’ve no doubt, was the transceiver being smashed. Befuddled with whisky, still a little blinded by the sunlight, he says he picked up his rifle and swag, and was intending to clear out, when Harry Lawton appeared and said: ‘By crikey, Yorky, what the hell did you shoot her for? You must be crackers.’

“Such was Yorky’s mental state that he gazed with terror at the weapon in his hands, then at the body. From the confusion of mind emerged one idea. His rifle was his dearest possession; he had cleaned it the morning before Mr Wootton had stopped at the camp, and now, sniffing at the muzzle, he could register the smell of the expended cartridge.

“He said, dully: ‘Yair, I must be.’

“Lawton said: ‘You killed her all right. I saw you fire. I rode over from the yard to see Mrs Bell about me lunch I’d forgotten to take out, and I saw you. I don’t want to be mixed up with it, Yorky. You better clear out and keep going.’

“Yorky panicked. He filled his gunny-bag with rations and cooked foods, and said he’d cross the lake to an island he knew of in the middle. Lawton asked how he was going to stay there without food and water, and Yorky told him there were rabbits, and that he could find water.

“It would appear that Lawton was greatly concerned about Yorky, and Yorky told him there were rations in the hut on the south end of the boundary fence. Lawton assured Yorky that he would replenish the food at the hut, that Yorky wasn’t to worry. Just stay out on his island. And he had better take the kid with him.

“Yorky says that he argued against taking Linda, and that he was overruled into doing so. He was tormented still by the effects of a long carousal, partly revived by a small dose of whisky, and more than revived by too much in too short a time. We can imagine his state if we cannot wholly sympathize with him. Always a quick thinker, Lawton found it easy to think for Yorky, telling him that mates have to stick together, that he would do all he could to put off the trackers and the dirty coppers, and so on. ‘Yorky’s good friend!’