Arthur Upfield - No footprints in the bush

“Oh yes, so you were. It was Mit-ji who was out here then, wasn’t it, Itcheroo?”

“Too right, boss. Sergeant he took Mit-ji in his car to Shaw’s Lagoon.”

“And,” Bony continued, “waskilled when the sergeant was killed in his car. Mit-ji was all burned up, like the sergeant. Mit-ji he no more sit down along little fire and send mulga wire to Illprinka man who run and tell Rex McPherson. Mit-ji no more tell sergeant about Rex McPherson, eh? He cunning feller that Rex McPherson. He put fire to sergeant’s car and burn Mit-ji all up ’coshe think Mit-ji tell-um sergeant all about him. What say I take you in car to lock-up feller in Shaw’s Lagoon? Rex McPherson he come longquick and put fire to car, eh?”

Itcheroo blanched.

“You tell this feller boss where Rex McPherson camps all time, eh?” pressed Bony. “Then I not take you to lock-up at Shaw’s Lagoon and then Rex McPherson he not put fire to car and burn you all up.”

Itcheroo rose to his feet, and Burning Watertautened his leg muscles to spring. Itcheroo stood glaring down at Bony, and Bony stared steadily at him. The half-caste wished to travel only to a point along a particular road. He waited for Itcheroo to speak. And Itcheroo became sullen and sat down. He didn’t laugh it off, as he would have laughed to turn aside an awkward question put to him by a tourist who then would have retired with the conviction that he was “very primitive.” No. He stared with frightened eyes at a man he knew was as close to him mentally as was Burning Water.

“You cunning feller, eh?”Bony told him, and rose from the form.

He knew quite well it would be but waste of time to threaten or question further. It was more than likely that Itcheroo would not know where Rex McPherson had his headquarters, for that young man would prohibit his mentaltelegraphists from broadcasting the information. He had hardly hoped to obtain such valuable information so easily, and the purpose of his questioning was primarily to upset Itcheroo’s mind and thus confuse it to the extent of failing to put two to two. “Come! We’ll go home,” he said.

“But-” Flora began to object.

“The puzzle we can work out over a cup of coffee. Shall I drive?”

Offering no objection, the girl followed him out to the car into the passenger’s seat to which he gallantly handed her. Itcheroo appeared with Burning Water after the fat-lamps had been puffed out.

“Not a word until the coffee is steaming fragrance before me,” Bony said to Flora when the car had been parked in the shed. “I am tired with thinking but very much awake. I would like you to come with us, Burning Water. You can send Itcheroo back to camp.”

“You shall have the coffee within ten minutes, Bony. The kitchen fire will still be in, but the cook will have gone to bed. What will you have, Burning Water? Coffee or tea?”

“As you will be making it, coffee certainly,” was the answer. “It is now more than two years since you made coffee for me.”

“Is it that long? It’s your own fault, Burning Water. Where, are we going to have supper?”

“I suggest the office,” Bony said. “I promised Nevin I would tell him the results of our trip.” Flora went on towards the house, and Bony whispered to Burning Water: “Go with her. Never let her walk alone in the dark. Say you’d like to help her with the coffee and things. I still am like the dingo who feels danger from down wind.”

He was slumped into the swivel chair beneath the hanging oil lamp in the office when Flora entered, followed by Burning Water carrying a large tray; and, on his feet in the instant, he made room on the table desk for the tray and stood waiting for the girl to be seated. He closed the door then, and asked Burning Water to shut the window.

Flora McPherson sat in her uncle’s office chair set to the long side of the table desk, and proceeded to dispense coffee and sandwiches to a half-caste who sat at one end of the table and to a full-blooded aborigine chieftain who graced the other end.

Truly no Australian woman ever before served two such men. Glancing covertly at Bonaparte, she noted his neat appearance, his wavy hair ruffled by the wind, his slim body and hands having the fingers of the surgeon, fingers now so expertly busy rolling cigarettes, his keen-featured face tilted downwards towards his task. She glanced at Burning Water, Chief of the Wantella Tribe, noted his massive torso, ebony black in the light of the lamp, the arm bands of human hair, the dillybag slung from his neck with human hair and containing among other things a small automatic pistol which could leap into a hand at will. She noted the forehead band of white birds’ down, and the tall tufted grey hair lifted high above it. Burning Water saw her looking at him and he smiled.

“The McPherson is a great man,” he reminded her. “And Jack Johnson and Tich are good men, too.”

“I know, I can’t help worrying, and thinking that uncle is acting wrongly. I am just aching to know what happened.”

“Ah!”sighed Bony, and setting down his cup he regarded Chief Burning Water. “I’ll tell a story and when I have finished you can tell me where I told it wrongly. These sandwiches are delicious, Miss McPherson, and the merest dash of brandy in the coffee- Thank you.

“On the evidence found at the site of the telephone wire break, and from what we discovered at the hut at Watson’sBore added to the information Nevin has given us, the story runs something like this. I am sure of the general outline, but I may be in error regarding one or two of the details,” Bony said in preface.

“The McPherson left here this morning intending to carry out a plan of action he had evolved against Rex. Rex had threatened to strike at him again, and he decided to get in the first blow.

“Arrived at the hut, something cropped up to cause him to go on to the out-station. It might have been that he wanted calico with which to make ration bags, or needles and thread he might have forgotten, for he had determined to carry out a raid into the Illprinka country, where his party would have to travel light and yet not be able to delay for the catching of food. Armed with rifles, they would not dare to fire them at game as secrecy of movement would be important. Even the horses would be left at the boundary of the Illprinka country, for horses require attention and a guard, and they make very plain tracks.

“Soon after The McPherson left here, Itcheroo lit a little fire and squatted beside it and flashed the news of the squatter’s departure to his opposite number in the Illprinka country. Rex therefore quickly learned of his father’s departure on what he would assume was a normal routine trip.

“Arrived at Watson’s BoreThe McPherson unloaded the rations if nothing else. As I have said, he may have forgotten calico or needles or thread, or he may have been persuaded to strengthen his party with the addition of two aborigines named Iting and Jack Johnson, both of whom are exceptionally clever in the bush. At the out-station he was told that Iting was away with Nevin who, with his men, was moving cattle away from the Illprinka country. So sure was he that Rex would strike again at the cattle, or even go to the length of attacking and destroying the homestead out there, he wrote a letter to Nevin and left five hundred cartridges for Nevin’s rifles.

“And so, having warned Nevin of probable trouble, having told him to gather all the aborigines camped about the place to the outhouses and sheds about the house, he drove back to Watson’s Bore, taking with him Jack Johnson and gear for two riding horses. On the way, he decided to slip back here and get Burning Water to go with them in the place of the absent Iting.

“You ask, perhaps, why he didn’t take Burning Water with him this morning. There is, however, a slight barrier between him and his life-long friend, and only after consideration did he alter his first decision. Your uncle, Miss McPherson, has for some time beenwanting to stamp out a dangerous fire, and Burning Water says it is not his place to do so. When a fire becomes dangerous an aborigine calls a lubra to put it out, and in this case Burning Water regards himself as the lubra.