Arthur Upfield: Death of a Lake

Bony knelt beside him and sheltered him with his own shadow. The warning tohimself was unmistakable. The ground about the fallen man was magnified with such brilliance that the pin-points of rusty clay on a sliver ofdebris, the hairs onMacLennon’s neck, even the nodules of dust on the man’s back, appeared as large protuberances.

Despite the warning, Bony succeeded in turningMacLennon on his back… when death was evident.

During a long moment Bony fought for self-control. The bad moment passed, and his maternal ancestors crowded about him, whispering and cajoling. They pleaded with him to remain passive if only for a minute. They told him of their battle with this homicidal sun, brought to him their lore and wisdom. They implored him to drink and pour the remainder of the water on his head.

But the bag was empty.

Presently he felt a little better though vertigo remained a threat. He peered from the protection offered by the shirt to estimate distance to the sandbar. He found that the shore dunes were closer, and he could see a tea-tree bush growing between two dunes. It looked black against the red sand, and black spelled shade.

In the act of standing he remembered the crows, and couldn’t leaveMacLennon entirely to them, so he stepped from his trousers and made the garment a covering for his head: the shirt he laid over the dead face.

The ground heaved as he walked away fromMacLennon. He fought back the impulse to run to the tea-tree shade, and slowly the bush grew in size, and slowly its shade came to meet him and became large enough to accept him.

He remembered he had once seen a thermometer at a homestead registering a point above 122 degrees, but that day the wind was blowing strongly. Today, here and now, there was no wind, not a current of air to be felt by the skin. The windless day is opportunity for the sun.

He was debating the subject of heat apoplexy, and the relation to it of perspiration, or lack of it, when he realized he could not remain in this shade without water. Already thickening saliva was swelling his tongue and gumming his lips.

He espied the nearest shade fifty yards towards the creek, a black ribbon lying over the ground cast by the trunk of a deadbelar. Where the shadow joined the foot of the treecrouched a rabbit, and he did not see the rabbit until, struck by his foot, it fled into the sunlight. He watched it run to a steep sand dune, watched it scrambling upward and dislodging a minor avalanche. The animal was near the summit when it gave a convulsive leap, rolled down the slope and lay still.

“That was quicker thanMacLennon got it,” he said, and knew he couldn’t have been vocal.

Thus from shadow to shadow he accomplished the journey back to the creek trees, and, remembering the guest at Johnson’sWell, he put on his trousers and crossed the creek with the empty water-bag on his head for protection.

They noted the absence of his shirt andMacLennon’s hat.

“You caught up with the fool,” Lester stated as fact.

Bony nodded and sat with them in the hut shadow, now larger in area. There was a pannikin of warm tea beside Lester, and he ‘sloshed’ his mouth with the liquid because he couldn’t part his lips.

“A bit generous, giving him your shirt,” snorted Barby, and again Bony nodded, now able to draw the liquid in between his lips and about the swollen tongue. Pride was digging into him. It would never do to permit these men and the girl to realize how soft he was, how close he’d come to meeting Sol’s bolt. They were watching him closely, and with well-acted casualness he emptied the pannikin and borrowed Lester’s tobacco and papers. Having made the cigarette, and having fought down the desire for more tea, he accepted a match from Carney.

“MacLennondidn’t go far,” he said, and was inwardly pleased he was able to speak clearly.“About half a mile on from the Channel.”

“Whatd’you mean?” asked the girl, impatiently.

“What he said,” Carney told her. “Without a hat, and no shirt on, course he wouldn’t get far.”

“Well, I hope he’s dead,” Joan snapped, and, without looking at her, Bony related his adventure.

“And you left your shirt on him,” Barby said.

“I remembered the crows,” Bony told them, and the girl sneered.

“More fool you, Bony,” she jibed, and laughed.

Proceed as Usual

HOURSLATER, when the shadows were noticeably longer, Bony suggested that someone should accompany Barby to the out-station and, if no one was there, take the track to Sandy Well to locate Martyr and the main homestead. The suggestion found favour, and everyone wanted to go with Barby.

“All right! We’ll all go. Better than sitting on our sterns. What’s to be done aboutMacLennon?”

The question was put to Bony, and the others, waiting for his views, didn’t realize how much his ego was boosted. Lester sniffled:

“Could do with a morgue, there’s bodies all over the scenery.”

He was told by Carney to shut up, and Bonysaid:

“Because of the birds and the dingoes, the body should be put inside the hut. We could make a start now. While the body is being brought in, perhaps someone could bake something to go with George’s tins of beef. We must take plenty of water in case we break down when trailing Martyr.”

It was arranged that Lester get on with baking scones, the girl would prepare another curry, and Bony would fill petrol tins with water. Carney went off with Barby in the utility. Eventually, the dogs having been fed, the cats attended to and the pet galah imprisoned in his cage, the party left Johnson’sWell.

The sun was then a mighty crimson orb low over the depression, and it was setting when they arrived at the out-station. No voice hailed them, and Lester insisted on leaving the vehicle to look at the thermometer under the pepper trees.

“What next?” snarled Barby, but stopped none the less. “Sun going down, getting a bit cool, and he wants to see if it’s true.”

Lester jumped to the ground and slouched to the instrument. They saw him peering at it. He straightened and peered again. Then he shouted:

“A hundred and nineteen and a bit. Caw! Wonder itain’t busted.”

Forgetting to sniffle, he climbed on to the body of theute.

“You sure?” demanded Carney.

“Take a deck yourself,” snapped Lester.“A hundred and nineteen now. What must she have been round about two this afternoon? Aflamin ’ record, I bet.”

They left the empty out-station, took the track up the long slope, and passed over the crest where Bony had observed the dust left by Martyr. No one looked back. Those on the tray body stood to look over the cabin top. They could see the track winding ahead for several miles. It was empty.

The normally red land, now covered by areas of dry grass dotted by clumps ofbelar andmulga, was apricot and silver in the waning evening light. They were grateful for the breeze created by the speed of the utility, and for the conquest of wind over flies.

Now and then Lester, clinging with Bony and Carney to the cabin top, sniffled and snorted.

“A hundred and nineteen at six o’clock!”

It was dark when they topped the following swell, and there Barbybraked the vehicle to a stop, for far away blazed the lights of several vehicles coming their way. It being obviously unnecessary to go further, Barby turned theute, cut his engine and climbed from the cabin.

Three,” he said. “Martyr in his ute, the Boss in his chromium chariot, and Red driving the juggernaut.”

“Hardlybe Red, George. He wouldn’t be able to keep up,” Carney pointed out.

“There’s three coming, anyhow.”

“The third is probably being driven by a policeman,” offered Bony, and after that no one spoke.