Arthur Upfield - Sands of Windee

“Wot was it?” Dot asked with interest.

“That I would work with you for two full years.”

“Humph!” The little man lit a cigarette and smoked pensively. Whilst inhaling and exhaling the tobacco-smoke he regarded his partner as though he had met him for the first time, and during that regard it dawned on him that Jeff Stanton’s test was unduly severe. He knew how Dash hated the killing and skinning of kangaroos and the skinning of rabbits but nevertheless never shirked his share of the work. At that moment Dot realised what his own mode of living must have meant to one with his partner’s upbringing. Two years is quite long enough for a man to gain an intimate knowledge of another man’s habits, mental outlook, and ideals. Yet now was the first time it was borne in on him that Dash must have suffered mental degradation every time he handled carcasses, every time he ate and drank from tinware, every day he had to deny himself a bath, and all the time he had to associate with such ashe.

“Iain’t surprised at youracceptin ’ the test,” he told Dash, “but I amkinda surprised that you’ve won out. I’m mighty glad you’ve won out, anyway. You an’me have got on well. No arguments, nothing. I’ll feelkinda at a loose end when I’m on me own. You see, a man sort of gets used to a bloke.”

“I know, Dot, how it is,” Dash said earnestly. “Our partnership has been successful, and it has smoothed away the rough edges of a rough life.”

“When’s the two years up?”

“To-night at midnight,” Dash replied. “Old Jeff knows that, and knows, too, that we are going to Windee to-day, and that to-morrow I shall, with his sanction, ask Marion to marry me.”

“Wot are yougonna do then?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought of buying a small place in the hills out of Adelaide, a fruit-farm probably. I have enough money for that.”

“Well, if your bank runs dry, don’t forget I am your milking-cow. I got a lot o’ money wot you’re welcome to. I gotmore’n you think.”

“Then you must possess a great deal,” Dash said, getting up with a smile, to add with sudden earnestness: “Nevertheless, old man, although we dissolve partnership, we do not and never will dissolve friendship. Where are the scissors, do you know?”

They spoke but little whilst each worked on the other. Dot evidently was somewhat depressed, for he shaved without his usual humorous complaints. The metamorphosis that was accomplished within half an hour was not a little surprising. From wild-looking bushrangers Dash became a well-groomed Army officer, and Dot’s round shining face bespoke a priest in disguise.

The coming severance with his partner weighed heavily on him, for he esteemed Dash, and held him in great affection. Nevertheless, there was something else which weighed on his mind, and after a while Dash became conscious of it. He said quietly:

“What has gone wrong, Dot?”

“Well, seeing as ’owwe’re going to bust up, I’d like to sort of confess me sins,” came the somewhat surprising answer. “We shall have to wind up the business part of it properly, and give each other a receipted bill. It seemskinda right that we should part, too, with receipted minds, if you get me. Do you?”

“Well, not quite.”

“I shall have to touch on a matter which we have made taboo,” Dot said in a strained voice.

“Oh!” The other’s voice was suddenly metallic.

“Yes. It’sgotta be done. I guess I was a fool, a poor avaricious boob. You’ll sort of jump on me when I tells you, and I’m thinking I’ll deserve it. You remember the money wot I was supposed to have burnt?”

“Yes. What of it?”

“Well, I didn’t burn it, that’s all.”

Dash, who was lacing up his expensive shoes, with greatdeliberateness rose to his feet and stood looking down at Dot with amazement, chagrin, and alarm all expressed in his clean-cut face.

“What did you do?” he inquired calmly.

“I hid it. I put the notes in a kerosene-tin box and buried ’emin the fire ashes at our camp.” The little man’s blue eyes winked with the force of his self-condemnation.“Gawd! I just couldn’t burn good money. I just couldn’t destroyorl them thousands of dollars-” He broke off suddenly, to continue looking at Dash with appealing eyes. Then: “Woter wegonna do, bo?”

“We are going to sneak along to that camp to-night, and I am going to watch you burn those notes one by one,” Dash said slowly.

“Orlright! I reckon Iain’t gotno kick coming if you orders me to eat ’em.”

Bony Lights a Fuse

CHRISTMAS EVE was a day of intense heat, the oppressive heat presaging an electrical disturbance. Until eleven o’clock the sky was clear of clouds. Then, in the manner peculiar to Central Australia, they began to appear. When Bony, working with Withers at the new sheep-yards, first saw the first cloud, it was less than the size of a man’s hand. Nature, the Great Enchantress, made and fashioned it from nothing: in the beginning a wisp of white smoke that grew and grew into an enormous white-capped solid-looking mass. Other clouds were born and magically expanded, and for quite a long while hung motionless in their distinct, solitary grandeur.

The workers watched them during work, wishing earnestly that one would move across the sun and shield them from its scorching rays. At times it looked as if their wish would be granted, when a cloud was seen moving towards the sun with stately slowness, but always to move round and past it. Not until four o’clock did the many clouds begin to find mutual attraction and drift into huge blue-black masses, within which the shimmer of lightning flickered and thunder rumbled.

When Bony and his companion returned to the homestead it was to see the arrival of Sergeant Morris and his trooper, both mounted on magnificent police horses. Their advent set up speculative comment among the hands who were preparing themselves for dinner, and the number of the men at Windee that evening was far in excess of that at any other time of the year.

The two policemen were met by Marion Stanton, astride Grey Cloud. They saluted her and spoke with her, the three horses bunched. Then Marion rode away up along the creek, seizing the opportunity thus early-since later she would have to welcome her guests-to take her daily ride. From the door of his bunk-room Bony smiled, and watched the uniformed men ride to the stockyards, where they left their horses, thence to walk with military stiffness to the station office.

Having set the match to the gunpowder train, he prepared himself to enjoy the spectacle of the explosion.

For nearly twenty minutes the office door remained closed. Then emerged Mr Roberts, hatless and carrying a notebook. He moved in his usual deliberate fashion round the house towards his room. For two seconds the angle of the walls concealed him, and when he reappeared Bony saw him pass out of the side wicket-gate, glance back once, and hurry away up the creek.

A few minutes after that the sergeant and the trooper came out. With significant purposefulness they crossed to the men’s quarters and asked for Bates, the custodian of the Windee plant, and of him required a half or three-quarter inch wire rope. Neither so much as glanced at the amused Bony.

He watched them accompany Bates to one of the store-huts, and saw the three of them come forth carrying a long length of wire rope, which they took down the curving road leading out over the plain and to Nullawil.

“Surely theyain’t going to hang Bates,” Withers suggested.

“Naw, they’re going to put up a swing for the Christmas party,” Ron announced, making motions with a toothbrush.

“I’ll go along and see what is doing,” Bony said loudly, and proceeded to follow the police party by slipping from tree to tree. He found them stretching the rope across the track, securing it to a tree-trunk on each side so that a car-driver coming to the homestead would see it just before he would be obliged to decelerate in order to get over a fifty-foot stretch of loose sand.