Arthur Upfield - No footprints in the bush

It was probable there were no others in the gutter beyond the next angle, but, as it was possible there were others, Burning Water did not delay. When he leaped forward he disappeared from Bony’s sight, and this moment was the termination of Bony’s inactivity. With the ligature about his right ankle his foot was “dead” and useless. He moved fast, however, on his hands and knees, looking not unlike an ungainly spider. Beyond the angle he saw a writhing man on the ground and two others in desperate struggle beyond him. The writhing man lurched to his knees, clawed his way to a standing position against one of the gutter walls, and then began to struggle to climb out. He certainly had received serious injury, and his mind was made up to escape injury even more serious.

Bony grasped his legs and hauled him back. He snarled like a dog as he fell on the half-caste, and then proceeded to try to gouge out Bony’s eyes before Bony’s fingers choked him. His breathing was a harsh rasping noise. His eyes were small black discs swimming in seas of white. And then something thudded, and he collapsed on the fighting Bony, to be dragged off by the panting Chief of the Wantella Tribe.

“There’sno others,” asserted Burning Water. “If there were others this fellow would have shouted. His companion didn’t get the chance to shout. I’ll get the plane message.”

It had now become so dark that he had no fear of being observed from an appreciable distance. Back in three seconds with the message, he proceeded to drag Bony under the tree roof.

“I have it,” he announced. “As you said, it is a small bag filled with sand and will certainly contain a message.”

“Block up the gutter entrances to this hidinghole,” Bony suggested. “I’ll have to use the torch to read the message.”

“And I’ll want a fire-for your foot,” added Burning Water.

Lying on his side, Bony saw his companion fill the quart-pot with water and then place the utensil on a foundation of burning sticks. That done, Burning Water continued the blocking of the two entrances with leafy branches from the roof. Within the bag Bony found the sheet of paper and read, slowly, his lips bloodless, pain indicated on his face:

DEAR GROUND PARTY:

This is the eighteenth of the month. Loveacre arrived this morning, having been delayed by that windstorm. McPherson got back today, too, after having a lot trouble with the Illprinka. He was half way to Duck Lake when Rex flew over them and dropped word to say he had got Flora and would hold her in exchange for the station until six p.m. on the 20th. If by then McPherson has not sent up his surrender smoke, Rex threatens to take Flora blackfellow fashion.

McPherson wanted to do this, but Loveacre and I dissuaded him. If you get this we will, of course, know your position today. We have two days to locate Rex’s headquarters and rescue Flora. The old man says we’re a couple of fools because, not knowing Rex like he does, Flora won’t be safe from him, station or no station. But we felt we must give you and ourselves a chance to rescue Flora and defeat him. Remember what you promised me if he harms my girl, so don’t be hasty and kill the blackguard. It’ll be my right to stamp out that dangerous fire.

PS: Adding this whilst in the air. Have been over the cane-grass swamp. It’s terrific. Big enough to hide a million men. Saw no indications of any camp. Three smoke signals away to the north-west where that Duck Lake must be. We’ll come out again tomorrow, but won’t communicate without urgent reason. If you want us to pick you up you know what to do. Loveacre sends regards. He’s got the tat-tat mounted and I’m the gunner. Feels like old times. Good luck.

“Two days, eh,” exclaimed Burning Water, evidently impatient. “Better make yourself a cigarette. Lie back. I want your foot. If Rex harms Miss McPherson, the doctor will certainly be given the chance to stamp him out. Come on, now, you’ll want the cigarette.”

“I’m going to wait,” Bony decided.

“Quiet. Too much time lost as it is. Lie still.”

Burning Water pulled Bony’s naked feet close to the fire. Then he crammed his mouth with young gum leaves. Bony bit back a cry of agony. A sizzling sound opening the lips of the wound made by the razor. Into the wound he poured cold water from the canvas bag to cleanse it. Then with the finger and thumb of one hand holding open the wound as much as was possible, with the fingers of his left hand he picked up a red-hot wood coal and dropped it squarely upon the open red flesh.

Before the pain was registered by Bony’s brain, he had grasped the ankles of both feet to hold them immovable, his jaws working on the mastication of the gum-leaves. Bony bit back a cry of agony. A sizzling sound came from the living coal, and a smell of burning flesh began to fill the chamber. Bony groaned. The agony seemed eternal and too much for his will to remain passive.

Then with a forefinger Burning Water flicked away the blackening wood coal, and with his tongue and lips pressed themushed gum-leaves hard into the wound. Off came the handkerchief to bandage the foot. Off came Nevin’s black shirt to add to the bandage, and then, whilst returning circulation increased the pain, he pushed Bony’s feet into the Kurdaitcha boots.

“Howd’youfeel now?” he asked.

“Give me a drink.”

“I’ll make the tea. The water’s boiling.”

The tea was made. Sand was thrown over the fire. In the darkness Burning Water squatted beside Bony and blew upon the tea to cool it.

“Here. Take the cup and sip it. It won’t taste too nice. I’ve put in half a handful of box-tree seeds. They’ll act like a double dose of painkiller. Where’s your tobacco.”

“I don’t want to smoke,” Bonyasserted, his voice weak and filled with pain.

“You will smoke a cigarette. And you will drink my medicine. Then I’ll bring in the dead men and clean up. We have twenty miles to travel before daybreak.”

“I don’t know which is worse, the pain of my heart or the pain of my foot.”

“Are you drinking the medicine?” insisted Burning Water.

“Yes. It doesn’t taste badly. It’s warming my stomach.”

“Good! Here’s the cigarette. I’ll strike a match. Ready?”

“Thank you, enigma,” Bony said.

Burning Water tore down the screen of branches from the lower side entrance and passed out to bring in the two dead Illprinka men. The doctored tea was pleasurably warming Bony’s stomach. He felt this heat attacking the constricting pain about his heart. The pain in the foot was subsiding, the searing burning being submerged by a pleasant glow.

“That’s done,” Burning Water said.“How now?”

“Better.”

“I thought that would be so. A little of the poison did get into the blood stream. I was too slow, and then those Illprinka men coming when they did delayed me more. I’m not as good a doctor as Jack Johnson, but you’re lucky after all. The medicine man bites the bitten part right out.”

“Like chopping off a man’s head to cure his headache.”

“Nearly as bad. Now, I’m taking you out of the gutter before cleaning up.”

Burning Water assisted Bony from the shelter and to the level land, and then with a switch of twigs he smoothed away from the gutter floor all trace of their presence there.

Bony could place his injured foot to ground only at the expense of additional pain. A strong black arm was round his waist, helping him forward on a tramp of twenty miles, to be accomplished before the next day lightened the sky.

Flora’s Awakening

WHEN Flora McPherson regained consciousness she found herself lying between cool and clean sheets on a soft mattress supported by a brass-mounted bedstead. The bed was flanked by a table on which burned a petrol lamp, and by a dressing-table bearing a large mirror, and which obviously was a wood packing case covered with pale blue cretonne.