Arthur Upfield - No footprints in the bush

“That is where I think Rex McPherson has his headquarters. Those smoke signals were sent up for two reasons. First to allay suspicion of an immediate blow to be given by Rex McPherson, and, second, to create the belief that his headquarters, as well as the blacks’ main camp, are at Duck Lake.

“See here. The difference in distance from here to Duck Lake and from here to the cane-grass at the western end of the plain is only forty miles, a bagatelle to the aeroplane. The cane-grass offers significant advantages over Duck Lake. Duck Lake is surrounded with sand-dunes and lines of box-trees bordering the several creeks emptying water into the lake. It’s all bad landing country. The cane-grass, on the other hand, is bordered with wide claypan country, and also it would provide an excellently camouflaged hiding-place for the aeroplane and for all the Illprinka blacks. We must not omit from our plans the likely fact of Rex knowing the possibility of an attempt being made to arrest him.”

“The cane-grass is where he would hide,” agreed Burning Water. “It’s a great place, the grass covering land half as big as McPherson’s Station. I looked down on it once from the top of a high sand-dune. It stretches across the horizon. But the Illprinka people don’t like it. They say that the Great Snake of the Alchuringa went into it one day and went to sleep and has never come out again. They believe that the Great Snake will be very hungry when it wakes and will run after any blackfeller it finds in the cane-grass and eat him up.”

Bony pondered on this slight objection to his theory. Then:

“Still, Rex McPherson must be strong-minded, and I think he would be able to impose his will on the Illprinka people to the extent of persuading the bolder of them to stay with him at the cane-grass waterhole. By the way, Nevin is coming in today with every one at the out-station, and tonight I am getting him to drive his truck, together with the station truck driven by the men’s cook, to Shaw’s Lagoon for petrol. I want several of your best bucks to go with each truck in case of any hitch on the road.”

“All right! I’ll see to that.”

“And there’s another matter, too. Now that Dr Whyte and Nevin will be here my mind is relieved concerning the safety of Miss McPherson, and we can proceed to that dangerous fire and stamp it out. Well leave immediately after Captain Loveacre has arrived. He is a friend of mine and is flying here. Meanwhile I think you ought to make us Kurdaitcha shoes. They will last longer than blood and feathers. What do you think of emu feathers?”

“They are good if the bird is young when killed.”

“Good! Will you see to it now?”

“And Itcheroo?”

“What of him?”

“He went bush very early this morning and has not yet come back to camp.”

“Oh! Well, I shall want him presently. Meanwhile let him alone.”

When Ella brought the afternoon tea to him Bony was writing a full history of the case against Rex McPherson, and he had not finished it when Burning Water returned.

“I have sent two bucks out to hunt a young emu, and when they come back an old man of my totem will make the Kurdaitcha shoes. I think I heard the out-station truck coming.”

Shrieks and shouts drifted to Bony and the chief from the black’s camp, and when the truck first appeared in the far scrub the homestead aborigines were running into sight to welcome the travellers: men, women carrying babies, and children of all ages.

Bony and the chief could presently see the fringe of black heads bordering the truck’s cabin roof. The driving seat was exceptionally wide, and from both sides protruded gun barrels. The uproar increased: the homestead blacks dancing and shouting, those on the truck being as vociferous. Dust rose thickly from the stockyards as the truck ran past them, dust from the excited horses yarded that morning and not freed because The McPherson had not been there to issue his orders.

When the truck turned to draw in towards the side door of the house, the mass of black humanity it carried was such that one would have been pardoned for wondering how they all managed to retain their places. The vehicle stopped opposite the house door and the mass became black water falling to the ground like a waterfall.

Bony saw a white woman and two little children leave the truck and enter the house. Aborigines followed them with bags and cases. From the crush about the truck emerged a short man with flaming red hair, dressed in blue dungaree trousers and a black shirt. He was escorted by an aborigine extraordinarily dressed in a bright blue shirt only, and carrying half a dozen rifles. The blue shirt and the red hair formed a striking contrast.

A hand grasped Bony’s right arm, and he turned to look into Dr Whyte’s anguished face.

“Flora-I can’t find her!” gasped Dr Whyte. “She’s gone!”

The Blow Falls

BONY cursed himself for a dolt in not having set a rigid guard over the house night and day. He found no excuse for himself in the confidence he had had of Flora’s safety whilst Dr Whyte was with her. Tight-lipped, he hurried to Nevin.

“Nevin-not a word, not a question,” Bony cried. “Miss McPherson is missing from the house, and Dr Whyte fears the worst. Time and speed are vital. Get those horses saddled and bridled, and muster the best riders. Imagine the house to be on fire and you organizing the men to fight it. Spring to it, man.”

Bony spoke with terrific intensity, and Nevin without hesitation did spring to it. He turned and raced to the stockyards, shouting to the blacks to follow him. For a moment they ceased their uproar, and then excitement regained ascendance and they ranpellmell after him.

Burning Water and the doctor followed Bony, who ran to the house, entering it by the front door. In the corridor beyond the hall he met one of the lubra maids, and at sight of him her smiling excitement changed to fear. He gripped her by the arm and she winced.

“Where’s Miss McPherson?” he shouted at her, and dumbly she stared at him and over his shoulder at the two standing behind him. “Where is she?” persisted Bony.

“Missus she gone,” wailed the lubra.

Bony turned to the doctor:

“When did you last see her?”

“We had afternoon tea together on the veranda,” replied Whyte, his mouth grim. “She said she’d go to her room and change for dinner. Said she’d be only an hour at most. I stayed and read a book, and then, when she hadn’t come out again ten minutes ago, I went to see where she was. I’ve searched the house. Ella went into her bedroom. She wasn’t there either.”

“You show me Miss McPherson’s bedroom, quick,” urged Bony. He was more controlled now. His voice was imperative.

She ran like a doe kangaroo along the passage and stopped outside a door. Without knocking, Bony went in. He stared about the pleasant room and swiftly appraised its contents and condition. Clothes lay on the bed, the kind of clothes suitable for evening wear. A kimono lay over a chair. The girl had gone to dress two hours before, and she had not even begun to dress when she had left her room. Bony bounded to the open French windows. Standing in the frame, he called:

“Burning Water, go and fetch the men’s cook and Old Jack. Harry, get away across to the yards and hurry Nevin with the men and horses. See that horses are prepared for us three. Wait there with them.”

His mind registered replies indicating obedience to his orders. There was no questioning Bony’s authority in such an emergency. The first phase of mental excitement produced by the calamitous news had subsided, and now Bonaparte was calm and mentally taut.

Stepping beyond the windows, he found himself on the same west veranda upon which opened the windows of his own room. Recently this veranda had been treated with used oil from motor crankcases, and the wood was almost black. Now the wind of the day had deposited a thin layer of fine sand over the boards, and a lesser man than Bony would easily have seen the imprints of Flora’s shoes on it. But a lesser man than Bony would not so quickly have read her recent actions in the footprints.