Arthur Upfield - No footprints in the bush

Bonaparte rose and crossed to the telephone.

“Ah! This is Detective-Inspector Bonaparte speaking from McPherson’s Station,” they heard him say. “I want an urgent telegram dispatched. Will you see to it that it is sent off at once Thankyou. Ready? Address: Captain Loveacre, Pacific Air Company, Brisbane. Message begins: You are urgently wanted McPherson’s Station, via St Albans and Shaw’s Lagoon. Remember my promise. Bring fast machine. Fuel supplies on hand. Excellentobserver waiting join you. Bring tat-tat. Inform me when leaving Brisbane and probable arrival St Albans where flying instructions will await you. Message ends. Yes, from Inspector Bonaparte. What’s that? Oh-tat-tat? T-a-t hyphen t-a-t. Good! May I expect a reply within two hours? Yes, I will be here.”

Bony hung up and resumed his chair.

“Captain Loveacre!” exclaimed Whyte. “Not the ex-flying ace?”

“The same,” replied Bony. “Captain Loveacre has on several occasions assistedme, or rather he has been associated with the background of several of my investigations. I like him. I once promised to call to him for assistance should an adventure offer. I am confident he will oblige me.”

He blew a smoke ring towards the doctor and expertly sent an arrow through the ring.

“What is a tat-tat?” demanded Flora.

“Oh!” he said casually, “A tat-tat is a machine gun. It is Captain Loveacre’s word for it. When he knows my requirements he will beg, borrow or steal a suitable machine if he hasn’t one of his own.”

Dr Whyte relaxed and whistled. His mouth became expanded in a grin, so that the chin scar became more pronounced, but in his small grey eyes was the gleam of anticipation.

“When I was in Brisbane ten days ago-it seems ten weeks-Captain Loveacre took lunch with me,” Bony said, reflectively. “After the war, when his services were no longer required by a grateful country Loveacre formed a flying circus with which to make a living. Subsequently he obtained financial backing to form an air transport company.

“Now, Harry, you know more about the kind of machine Loveacre will bring to meet with my requirements, and you will know what supplies of petrol and oil Loveacre will need. After refuelling your machine there is now only some hundred and fifty gallons left in the store. How is petrol and oil usually brought, Miss McPherson?”

“When the truck is sent to Shaw’s Lagoon for rations or supplies it always completes its capacity loading with petrol.”

“And who drives the truck?”

“The men’s cook.”

“Where is the petrol obtained at Shaw’s Lagoon?”

“From the store. There is only the one general store. The petrol depot is run in conjunction with an oil company.”

“Then we must arrange with the store people to let us have as much petrol as possible, and further to have their stocks replenished as quickly as possible. Excuse me.”

Bony was busy at the telephone for ten minutes, when he announced that the depot could supply up to a thousand gallons of first grade petrol. He was expressing his satisfaction when the telephone bell shrilly rang.

“That was Nevin,” he said. “They are leaving the outstation now, and will be bringing all the blacks there with them. Now let me think. Yes, the two trucks can go to Shaw’s Lagoon tonight. They cannot leave until after dark, and they must be back before daylight. We must think of a place to store the petrol and to camouflage the store to prevent Rex blowing it up. And tomorrow Harry, if Loveacre comes, which I am confident he will do, we must plan to construct a well camouflaged place to conceal his machine from the same destructive young man. Now we can but wait to hear from Loveacre.”

The doctor rose saying:

“I feel younger, and I’m going over to the house to change into flannels.”

“And I’m going over to see about a cup of tea. Will you come over to the veranda, Bony?”

On his feet, Bony was smiling at her.

“If you will excuse me,” He said, “I would prefer to sit here and wait for Loveacre’s telegram. But a cup of tea-here-”

“I’ll have it sent over.”

When, twenty minutes later, a lubra maid took to him a tray of tea she discovered him slumped into the swivel chair, a row of cigarettes on the table before him, the place filled with blue smoke, and a large sketch map drawn on sheets of writing paper pasted together. When she had set down the tray at his side he said to her:

“You are Ella, eh?”

“Too right, Mister Bony.”

“Your totem is witchetty grub, I see. You know about Tarlalin who lived long ago?”

The black eyes widened and a smile flashed into the round and pleasant face.

“Tarlalin she live in that one sugar-gum tree beside cemetery feller. Shewait there one time lubra go and sit beside it. Then she drop spirit baby beside lubra, andbime -by lubra she have little baby and little baby grow like Tarlalin. I bin sit there but ole Itcheroo he bad feller and little spirit baby he get frightened and run back into tree to Tarlalin.”

“Itcheroo he bad blackfeller, eh?”

The girl “made a face” for answer.

“What totem Tarlalin? You know?” asked Bony.

“Too right. She witchetty grub like me.”

“And Chief Burning Water-what totem feller him?”

“Burning Water he emu totem feller.”

So the line of descent in this Wantella Tribe lay in the female side, and because Tarlalin’s child father was a white man her male child would be given her brother’s totem. Rex McPherson would be of the emu totem, and any emu man ought not to be led in battle against him. Bony wondered if McPherson remembered this when he took all the blacks with him from Watson’s Bore.

Captain Loveacre’s reply telegram arrived at ten minutes to twelve, and Bony was dictating a further message to be telegraphed to him when Dr Whyte entered the office, sat quietly down and studied the sketch map. Presently Bony joined him, saying:

“Loveacre will be leaving Brisbane first thing tomorrow morning. He will fly via Quilpie and St Albans where he will land for flying instructions. Those instructions I am going to leave to you.”

“And the tat-tat?”

Bony smiled grimly.

“The captain says that his tat-tat is only too willing to accompany him.”

“Good news! Let me see! Loveacre ought to get to St Albans with plenty of daylight to spare. What’s this sketch?”

“It’s of the Illprinka country. I have filled in the details as much as possible from information obtained from Burning Water. We’ll get him to check it over later. Loveacre, or you as his observer, will want it. See, here’s Duck Lake, and down here is the area of cane-grass. I’ve been thinking, too. Remember, Rex bailed up his father approximately nine miles from here about four o’clock yesterday afternoon. Here’s the place on the sketch. This morning he destroys your machine here at nine o’clock. During the night where was he? Not such a great distance from the station boundary, and with his aeroplane I’m willing to wager. He’s been close to us, Harry, and I think that the reason of that is to carry out a plan he conceived before he bailed up The McPherson, a plan he hasn’t yet carried out. We will have to be extra careful tonight with Miss McPherson.”

The instructions were dispatched to Captain Loveacre at the St Albans Post Office, and then Bony suggested that Whyte return to the house alone for lunch and ask Flora to have his lunch sent to the office. He did it in such a manner that the doctor did not suspect Bony’s sentimental reason.

About three o’clock Burning Water came in and was asked to con the sketch map. He offered suggestions for several additions and one major alteration. Bony completed the work, and then he said, slowly, pointing to the area of cane-grass: