Arthur Upfield - The Devil_s Steps

The man’s next action placed Bisker at a disadvantage. Knowing that if he struck with the axe the weapon might be fired with fatal results to Bony, Bisker waited in the belief that what had happened tohimself was about to happen to Bony. Bony would be ordered to turn about and then the masked man would reverse his weapon and bring the butt down hard on his head. It was Bisker’s intention to wait until the moment that the weapon was raised in reverse to deal the blow.

The cry of the opossum and the crash on the roof unnerved the masked man, whose desire now was to escape. Still covering Bony, he half turned and began backing towards the door, when he saw Bisker standing like a very bad imitation of the Javelin Thrower.

“Bit too late,” he cried loudly. “Either of you move, andI’ll drill him first and the other last.”

“Mind the step as you go out,” Bony said softly, and so astonished Bisker that the axe above his head wobbled and came to rest on a shoulder.

The masked man had now reached the door against which he stood with his back to it whilst his free hand searched for the handle. Gradually Bony’s knees bent, bringing his body in readiness to spring forward, and slowly Bisker’s axe moved up from his shoulder and then outward as he prepared to throw the “javelin.” The man’s hand found the door handle, and he stepped aside to permit the door to be pulled inward. His revolver still did not waver off a line midway between Bisker and the detective.

It was not unlike a slow-motion picture which in a flash was increased to normal speed. The maskedman wrenched open the door. For a second he continued to menace Bony and Bisker with his weapon, and then he stepped backward out through the doorway, to emit a yell as he stepped on the body of the opossum which, rolling under hisfoot, precipitated him on his back on the path.

Bisker’s axe was the first to arrive at the doorway. The head got through the opening all right, but the haft caught the left-hand post and the implement fell to the floor. The next to arrive was Bony, and he passed through the doorway without touching the floorboards. The third was Bisker, but he moved over the floor and was slow by comparison. Having emerged from his dwelling, he heard noises indicative of a struggle going on somewhere in the dark, and his primitive mind directed him to return for the lamp and the axe. The lamp in his left hand and the axe in his right, he rushed out once again-to meet Bony staggering towards him and holding a hand to his cheek.

“He got away, unfortunately, Bisker,” Bony said, pantingly.“Caught me on the cheek-bone with his gun. Better get inside again and see to the damage. How are you feeling?”

“There ’as been times when I’ve felt better,” replied Bisker. “And I’d befeelin ’ worse than I do if that bloke ’ad drunk the whisky.” Having put the lamp down on the table, he turned to Bony to see blood trickling downward between the fingers of the hand held against his cheek. When Bony removed his hand, he said: “Hum! Bit of a scratch. Better let me pour a drop or two ofkero on it.”

He brought a beer bottle of kerosene and administered to Bony’s superficial wound by drenching a handkerchief with the oil and squeezing the liquid upon the open cut, then giving the handkerchief to Bony to press against the cut to stop the bleeding. Into the palm of his left hand he poured more kerosene and slapped it against the lacerated portion of his own scalp. It was done so casually that Bony could not help laughing.

“Best thing on earth,” Bisker said almost cheerfully. “Next best thing tokero is whisky, but what a waste that would ’avebeen. What about a taste?”

Bonywas liking Bisker more and more perhaps because under nervous strain Bisker was becoming more akin to his natural self. He expressed the thought that the suggestion might be accepted, and a few moments later, when he discovered that the bleeding had stopped, he sat at the table with Bisker and made a cigarette despite the smell of kerosene on his hands.

“What do we do next?” Bisker asked, as though the recent ten minutes were a normal period of life.

“Tell me what happened to you,” replied Bony.

“Me? Why, I was stirring up the fire when the door was opened. I thought it was you come ’ome, and I says when me back is to the door: ‘You was pretty nippy,’ meaning you hadn’t taken long to get your blankets. Then Ihears a strange voice saying: ‘You just stand up straight and turn round.’ So Istands up and I turns round to look down the barrel of a revolver. Then I looks up above the gun and sees the bloke with the mask over ’is face.

“ ’Esays: ‘Up with ’em!’ Well there’snothin ’ else I can do-like singing a song or doing a bit of a dance. Then ’e says: ‘Wot did you dig outer the shrub tub?’ and I tells ’imI dug up me bottle of rat death. Then he asks me wot else I dug up, and I tells ’imI don’t dig up nothing else. ’E calls me a liar-me, mind you-and I can’t seem to do nothing about it. ’E said: ‘You dug up a couple of fountain pens in a leather holder when you dug up your bottle. You ’and the pens over to me-quick.’ Isays: ‘I’m telling you Iain’t got ’em.’ ’E says: ‘Then Bonaparte’s got ’em. You turn round.’

“So Iturns round. Then a comet hit me fair in the eyes. When Iwakes up, I findsmeself lying comfortable. I ’as a bit ofa ’eadache, and I ’ears the bloke talking to you about the pens. Then I turns me ’eadand sees ’imstanding with ’is back to me and you standing withyour ’ands up. So I gets me axe, and I waits me chance because I can’t do nothing while he’s got that gun pointed at you. It might havegorn off.”

“It certainly might,” Bony agreed with feeling, and then related how he had been fooled. “You didn’t recognize the fellow by his voice?”

Bisker shook his head whilst he swirled whisky about his teeth.

“Did you notice his hands?”

“Not particularly. I was too interested in ’is gun.”

“Think back. Have you seen anyone wearing a hat like that fellow was wearing?”

Bisker pondered, his grey eyes screwed to the size of peas. Then he said: “No, I can’t remember anyone special wearing a hat like that. Plenty of blokes wear black felt hats these days with the front of the brim turned well down. ’E’s no bushman, that bloke, or he wouldn’t ’avebeen frightened when them ’possums ’ad a fight and one fell on the roof. That upset ’imsorta.”

Bony smiled.

“He was certainly upset when he trod on it outside the door. Tell me, how can I get to Melbourne tonight?”

“Ring up the bus bloke for a hire car. Get a train at Manton.”

“Hum! How else-other than ringing for a hire car?”

“Walk, Manton’s nine miles. You might pull up a car overtaking you.”

“Could you tramp nine miles, d’you think?”

“I could. But why?”

“It might be better for you to pack and come with me,” Bony replied. “Then you could leave tomorrow for Windee Station. The owner would take you on. I could send him a telegram about you.”

“Mind measkin ’ wot you’regonna do?”

“No. I am going to Melbourne tonight, and probably will return tomorrow to finish my holiday.”

Bisker was staring at Bony, and his gaze shifted to the whisky bottle, remained on that for five seconds, and finally returned to Bony.

“When I wasstandin ’ with me axe at the ready,” he said softly, as though thinking someone was listening at the keyhole, “I sort of remembered about you. I ’eardabout you three years back when I was west of Cunnamulla. You coming back ’ere tomorrow tells me youain’t finished with the lad wot bashed me and stole them pensof’n you. Now wot about you taking me on asyour offsider? Blokes don’t bash me about and get away with it.”