Arthur Upfield - Sands of Windee

Facing along the outward track from the rope through the western fringe of creek trees, the vast expanse of plain appeared as though it were a grey patchwork carpet. Vast irregular areas were darkened by the cloud shadows, and between the areas the low salt-bush gleamed and shivered in the mirages. At a great distance, probably ten miles, a slowly mounting cloud of dust appeared stationary. It was, in fact, caused by a rapidly moving automobile.

“They are coming now,” announced the trooper.

Morris grunted, and satisfied himself that the blocking rope was securely fixed beforehe, too, gazed out over the plain. To Bony these preparations for the arrest of Dot and Dash seemed almost absurdly excessive, yet he also foresaw the difficulties that the partners in their truck could raise against mounted men. They had but to see them to drive at and past them and escape. Morris, seeing the danger of frustration or resistance, had cleverly selected a place where the driver of the truck would be obliged to stop, and that place being sandy would prove exceedingly awkward for a man to turn a truck, for, once out of the formed wheel-tracks, it would bog, and before he could reverse out on the hard ground the policeman would be able to board him.

For no definite reason Bony remained carefully concealed, now a mere onlooker, amused and entranced, his mind busy with speculation as to the various possibilities of his coming arrest.

The gong for the men’s dinner was struck by Alf the Nark, yet Bony felt it impossible to leave his chosen post of vantage. Bates moved away at its call, but Sergeant Morris halted him, saying that he might need his assistance, and in any case did not wish a crowd to collect there, as assuredly would be the case if it became known what was pending.

The approaching dust-cloud became appreciably nearer, and it was some five miles away when the waiting men saw a second dust-cloud far beyond it. Separated by four miles, two motors were speeding to Windee, but whether the first was the partners’ truck or the overseer’s car was not known, since the stock-riders at Range Hut were then at the homestead and there was no one at the house in the hills to answer the telephone.

Now, had not the small pinion-wheel in the differential of the car first seen shed its cog-teeth, subsequent happenings on Windee might have been quite different. The breakdown occurred about one mile from the homestead, and it was signalled to the watchers near the wire rope by the nearer dust-cloud, which suddenly dwindled and vanished. The second machine came on steadily, and with obvious impatience Sergeant Morris rolled a cigarette blindly, his attention fixed on the plain. At that distance it was impossible to tell whether it was the car or the truck which had broken down, but it mattered little, since the passengers by the first would assuredly be brought on by the driver of the second.

Twenty minutes elapsed. By that time the second machine was quite near the stationary first. Bony then saw that the attention of the sergeant and his trooper was taken by something north of them, and on the edge of the plain. Bates’s round face was alive with interest. Two minutes passed slowly before Bony’s curiosity was allayed.

Across the plain, from a point above the homestead, there sped a grey horse and a white-dressed rider. The flying hooves sent up a long trail of greyish dust. The animal’s head was low: its rider sat a little crouched forward, a rose-pink veil floating out horizontally behind her head. Riding Grey Cloud, Marion Stanton was rushing towards the disabled car.

With no uneasiness but a thrill of admiration, Morris watched the beautiful action of the horse and the easy seat of his rider. It was natural to surmise that Marion Stanton, having observed the breakdown, should determine to ride and learn the fault. The significance of Mr Roberts leaving the office before the policemen and hurrying up the creek when Marion Stanton had already ridden that way was not realised till later.

They saw her reach the stationary machine at the same instant as the second drew up. The two machines, now that the dust-cloud had left them, looked like a pair of black ants, about which tiny objects moved no larger than pinheads. With his keen vision Bony distinguished two people about Grey Cloud. No effort was made to examine the faulty machine, which indicated that the fault was serious and not to be repaired in a hurry.

Precisely what was going on out there the watchers were unable to decide. Nothing happened for several minutes. Then Grey Cloud moved a little apart. There arose a faint haze of dust. Through the still air Bony’s ears just caught the hum of an engine. One of the machines was moving. A cloud of dust arose and hid it. The dust-cloud became elongated, lengthened as though a destroyer was creating a smoke-screen. And the machine that raised the dust was going away from Windee, was racing back to the hills towards Nullawil.

The grey horse came slowly towards the watchers. Time seemed to drag. Eventually they could see that Grey Cloud carried two riders. Two men moved about the broken-down car. The other car was speeding westward. Bony was delighted. Marion Stanton had warned Dot and Dash of their impending arrest, having been informed of it by Mr Roberts.

The Strike

VERY SOON it was evident to the waiting men that the riders of Grey Cloud were women, obviously Marion Stanton and Mrs Foster. Beyond them several figures moved about the broken-down car, and later it was learned that these were Harry Foster and the two stockmen, merely waiting for a station truck to arrive and tow them to the homestead. Why the fur-getters had gone back was a mystery that only the women could solve.

When a quarter of a mile from the waiting policemen, Grey Cloud was turned off the track on a more direct line to the big house, and Bates was then asked to remove the obstructive wire rope while the sergeant and his trooper went to intercept the riders between the creek and the stockyards. Outside the homestead they met Marion and her companion, who dismounted.

“How do you do, Sergeant Morris?” Mrs Foster said gaily, with the faintest trace of mockery in her tone.

“Very well, Mrs Foster. What has happened?” Morris’s voice was sharp. He was visibly annoyed. The flush on Marion’s face, her obvious excitement, aroused his suspicions. Mrs Foster, standing before him and looking up at him, smiled with her mouth but revealed in her eyes a flash of malice.

“Something went wrong with the differential,” she explained, when Marion had led her horse away. “Naturally we counted on coming along on Dot and Dash’s truck; but when Dot and Dash learned that you were after them they turned tail and fled. Oh, what have they done, Mr Morris?”

“From whom did they learn we were to arrest them?” the sergeant barked.

“Why, Marion”-the hard eyes resting for a moment on the white-clad figure near the yards. “You see, Marion rode out to find what was wrong, and happened to mention to Mr Dash that you were here.”

“Oh she just told them that we were here?”

“Yes, that’s all.”

“But a moment ago you said they learned from Miss Marion that we were here to arrest them.”

“Did I? Well, really, perhaps I should not have said that. I must have imagined it. Do you-what are you arresting them for?”

“There seems to be a mystery here,” Morris growled. “I cannot understand how Miss Marion came to learn that we wished to arrest Dot and Dash. Rowland, ask Miss Stanton to join us.”

Across the open space in which they stood a voice roared out for “Mister Roberts”, and, turning his head, Morris saw Jeff Stanton standing on the veranda outside the office door. Waiting for Marion, Morris impatiently looked in the direction of the men’s quarters, to see the bookkeeper hurriedly leave and walk swiftly towards his employer. When Marion came back, he said in his bluff manner: