Arthur Upfield - No footprints in the bush

The hangar was farther within the fringe of the cane-grass and lantana. Its open front was semi-masked with curtains of cane-grass woven by the Illprinka women. Within she found Rex working on his engine, and so bored was she with her own company that she talked with him for an hour on the subject of aeroplanes. When she left him she realized that on one matter he was profoundly learned and sane.

Early the second evening after a day of wind she walked as far as the sand-dunes, climbed them and gazed north-westward over the great swamp. It effectively hid the “house” and the hangar from her, for even the entrance to the house appeared to be one shadow of many. From the sky no house or hangar, or any other object could be seen.

Now more confident in herself, and feeling that Rex’s interest was impersonal, her hope of being returned to the homestead rose higher. She was sure her uncle would capitulate and retire to the city, and although she liked the inland the prospect of living with him in the city was not distasteful. Anyway, she could look after him better down there, and he could even live with her and Harry when they were married.

Came the morning of the eighteenth when Rex greeted her at breakfast with:

“Hullo, cousin! Good morning! You look charming. Try these duck eggs and bacon. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, thanks,” she said, guardedly returning his smile. “Engine work finished yet?”

“No. I’ve to fit together two parts of the wrong size. Can’t trust people to do anything right. Order a particular size and they’ll send another size. A pilot has to be an engineer and fitter these days.”

“You’re remarkable in your way,” she told him.

“Of course,” he agreed. “I’m going to rise high, dear. There is nothing a man cannot do if he makes up his mind to do it. I made up my mind I’d fly a plane. I then made up my mind I would know all about an aeroplane and its engine. Then I decided that in case of a forced landing in the bush I had better know how toeffect repairs.”

“No signal yet from uncle?” she asked.

“No. And I haven’t expected it. This wind will prevent smoke signals, you know. Don’t worry. The dad will give in and go down to the city to live. He’ll feel a little lost, but he will get over that. You will look after him, I suppose.”

“And what will you do?”

“I shall be the boss of McPherson’s Station which will be four to five times bigger than it is now when I’ve taken up much of this open country. I am going to be the biggest squatter in Australia. I’m going to be somebody.”

Be somebody! Was that the force driving him? Was the universal dream of men and women of being somebody in this man a force, a fire, sending him along the road to destruction? Flora regarded him wonderingly, and, he thought, admiringly.

She spent the morning doing nothing. The day was calm and cool, for a light breeze came from the south. She wondered if Captain Loveacre had reached the homestead, and what Bony and Dr Whyte were doing and thinking. Like Rex, she was confident her uncle would surrender his station in exchange for herself. After lunch, taken alone, she retired to her room where she lay and read by the light of the lamp.

At three o’clock by the little clock standing on the makeshift dressing-table, Tootsey entered her room with a tray of afternoon tea. This was unusual. Tootsey had never been communicative, but now she said:

“Mississtay here. Rexboss say so.”

To Flora’s questioning she merely shook her white-crowned head. And to Flora’s astonishment she took the chair and, placing it square in the doorway, sat down. Frowning, Flora said:

“Go away, Tootsey. I don’t want you there.”

“Mississtay here. Rexboss say so,” repeated Tootsey, and Flora knew the lubra had been taught the two phrases.

An hour later another lubra appeared and stood guard at the room’s entrance. She was certainly Tootsey’s opposite number. She, too, had fattened on good living. But she was naked save for the pubic tassel, and she was armed with a waddy fashioned from a mulga root. Tootsey was not particularly ugly, but this woman was hideous. Fat and sand mixed solidified her scanty hair to hanging rolls. Her body scent was appalling. Flora asked, sternly:

“What are you doing there?”

She received no reply. The lubra’s stare was steady and hard. She held the waddy as though it were made of paper. So Tootsey now was her gaoler, and this naked savage woman was Tootsey’s assistant.

Flora was confined to her room for the remainder of that day and succeeding night, but the following morning when Tootsey awakened her with a cup of tea, she said:

“Missiseat with Rex boss. Missisgo out.”

Rex was already at breakfast when she entered the living-room, and Flora now understood that when Tootsey said she was to go out she meant only to go out to the living room, for there standing in the uncurtained entrance was an armed aborigine.

“Morning, Flora,” Rex greeted her, and his phrasing as well as his face told her that something had happened.

“There’s a strange aeroplane flying around. Do you know anything about it?”

He was again the old, passionate, fiery Rex.

“I expect it’s the aeroplane flown by a Captain Loveacre,” she said. “Inspector Bonaparte sent for Captain Loveacre that day you destroyed Dr Whyte’s plane.”

“Oh! That’s news. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I had forgotten about it.”

“What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing else that you don’t know,” she answered, pretending indifference though feeling the shock that the old Rex lurked below the suave personality of the new. “It was Inspector Bonaparte who asked Dr Whyte to come. He wanted the doctor to fly him over the Illprinka country. When you destroyed the doctor’s aeroplane, he thought of Captain Loveacre.”

“Loveacre, eh, my dear! I have heard of Captain Loveacre. He’s quitea somebody, too. Well, he won’t do any harm. He won’t locate my headquarters.” Rex leaned back in his chair and laughed, and Flora was reminded of the aborigine standing in thedoorless entrance. “All the aeroplanes in the Commonwealth wouldn’t find us. And supposing they, did, what then?

“If this place was located from the air and they sent a ground force againstus, that ground force wouldn’t get within eighty miles of us before we would know about it. Think I haven’t thought of the possibility of an invading ground force? I have, indeed, my sweet. I have planned for all eventualities. Long before the ground force could arrive we would have left, retreated to an even more secret place.”

He expected her to ask where, and she asked the question.

“Do you know how much there is of this cane-grass and lantana swamp?” he inquired, flashingly. “I’ll tell you. At its widest point it is eleven miles across. It is forty-two miles in length. For months water will lie over great areas of it making it impassable almost to dingoes. My secret place is in the middle, and the road to the secret place is a secret, too. You and I, dear, would be undisturbed there for ever.”

In the middle of the afternoon she heard the aeroplane coming fast towards the swamp. She ran into the living-room governed by the idea of running out of the “house” and attracting Captain Loveacre’s attention. But there was the guard standing just inside the entrance, and now masking the entrance was a curtain of woven cane-grass.

All the following morning she sat in the living-room with her back to the guard. It was like waiting for the executioner. Time by the large clock paradoxically raced and yet stood still. The ticking of the clock became a torture, and yet she knew she could not bear to see it stopped.