Arthur Upfield - Sands of Windee

It presently became evident that when Sergeant Morris and Trooper Rowland first entered the station homestead they found there Jeff Stanton and Mr Roberts. To the old man Sergeant Morris had explained his mission. The bookkeeper, unavoidably overhearing him, had slipped out of the office at the first opportunity, and, knowing that Marion had ridden up along the creek, had gone to meet her on her way home, in order to acquaint her with the imminent arrest of the partners.

Marion had urged Grey Cloud over the plain at the precise moment that the Fosters’ car had broken down. The breakdown had been a fortunate coincidence. To a certain extent it masked her intention of carrying a warning to the wanted men.

On his return to the men’s quarters Bony found Mr Roberts telling them that the police were waiting to arrest Dot and Dash, and saying suggestively that he supposed no one wanted the honour of driving any car or truck Sergeant Morris might commandeer with which to pursue them. It occurred to Bony then that this was a plan formulated between Marion and Roberts, with a secondary plan behind it to deal with the situation had it been the partners’ truck and not the Fosters’ car which had come to grief.

The resultant discussion among the men had given Bony vast amusement. One of them, who could drive, objected to flatly refusing Sergeant Morris on account of the intimidation he would receive from the police when next he visited Mount Lion. The objection applied to the other men also; but the balking of Sergeant Morris still seemed a very attractive idea, if it could be accomplished safely. To Jack Withers had come the brain-wave of a general strike, and very quickly it was agreed to strike for a bonus of five hundred pounds-an amount that certainly would not be granted, and at the same time would not be so fantastic as to allow Morris to guess that the strike was really aimed against him.

And, again, the battle of words between Jeff Stanton and Jack Withers gave much joy to the half-caste. Here was being enacted a play of mingled comedy and drama simply because he had willed it; but it was a play that when once started passed out of his control, placing him in the position of a mere spectator in the stalls. So far its results were highly gratifying. If a mystery could be invested with personality, this one had been discovered in a lethargic state that apparently became dormant. Bony’s order to arrest Dot and Dash had quickened it into a living thing, had given it a fresh lease of life that might well strip it of its enfolding draperies and obliterate it for ever.

Certainly his orders to Sergeant Morris had been followed by several surprises. Bony had counted on this when he sent his instructions to the sergeant. The greatest surprise to him was afforded by the action of Marion in warning the partners. How could it possibly concernher what happened to either or both? Less surprising was the action of Roberts in rushing to tell her of the partners’ impending arrest. Whilst the bookkeeper’s name was still down on Bony’s list of fish, it was so merely because it had not been proved not to be the sting-ray. Now it appeared that Mr Roberts was greatly concerned, and had most astutely schemed that Sergeant Morris should be cheated.

To Bony the incident of the fire was inopportune and most annoying, since it was likely to check the actions of the performers, halting the drama in the middle of the second act. It was obvious that immediately Jeff Stanton recovered from the surprise, first of the strike and secondly of the news of fire which had so abruptly terminated it, he would put into action plans laid long before to cope with the fire demon should it rear its head. It also was obvious that the strike was farcical, for no sooner had the book-keeper announced the outbreak than the strike was swept off the board in proof of the strikers’ genuine loyalty to their employer.

Lightning had fired the knee-high grass near the north-west boundary in one of the paddocks ridden by Ned Swallow, who had elected to remain at his job. From the hut where Dot and Dash had camped when they shot the kangaroos he saw a thin spiral of smoke rising skyward at a distance of several miles. He waited, watching it, to make sure it was not a chance blackfellow’s signal, and saw the spiral become a column, and the column rapidly become a whirling black mass.

Immediately he was convinced that it was a bush fire he had telephoned the fact to the homestead. He stood by the telephone until Mr Roberts had called Jeff Stanton, watching the smoke become a high menacing cloud in the northern sky through a wide space between the wall-sheets of the hut.

Whilst Stanton was hurrying to his office two men ran to the motor-shed, thence to bring out the powerful motor-cycles and charge them with petrol in view of expected orders. The remaining men hurried after the squatter and collected outside the office, ready and willing to be rushed to the fire zone to put out the conflagration before it reached uncontrollable dimensions. As for Sergeant Morris and his trooper, they were ignored for the time being, and Bony, who stood on the outskirts of the little knot of men, saw with twinkling eyes the furious anger in the sergeant’s face.

Presently Stanton emerged from the office, calm, cool, and resolute, a born leader, far-sighted, radiating confidence. Standing on the veranda, thereby seeing over the heads of the men, he said in his gruff, barking voice:

“The lightning has started a fire at the back of Black Horse Paddock. As you know, all that country is ripe for a fire. It’ll take a lot of putting out, and I’m glad to see that you are justifying my faith in you, and that your damned strike was a sort of Christmas joke. Every day that we are engaged in putting out this fire your wages will be the usual pound a day.

“Most of the sheep in Black Horse Paddock are now coming in to water, and Ned Swallow will hold ’emnear the tank. Jim and you, Tom, go out on the bikes and give Ned a hand. There are several spare hacks out there. Roll your swags and leave ’emhere before you go. Ron, fill up with petrol and take three cases of extra petrol on theChev. All you men roll your swags and leave ’emhere. All of you will go with Ron. Ed, see to the Reo-take plenty of spare petrol. Jack and Bony will give you a hand to put aboard one of those four-hundred-gallon tanks. Thatdone, pull up here and pick up the swags and the tucker Mr Roberts will set out. Get busy!”

Men rushed to their quarters, and, hastily rolling their blankets, raced with them back to the office veranda. First one and then the other motor-cycle engine roared and sputtered. The cloud-hidden sun was just setting when the first red-painted machine skidded off in a cloud of dust, followed in three minutes by the other-machines ridden by expert but fearless, dare-devil riders. The policemen, ignored and wrathfully helpless, saw the first of the trucks, loaded with men, move off into the dust raised by the second motor-cycle, and with perplexed annoyance Morris saw Bony helping to lift a huge square iron water-tank on the powerful Reo truck, as though he were just an excited, loyal station-hand, and not a detective-inspector of the Queensland Police.

The situation was one wholly governed by time. Every second added bulk and strength to the devouring fire-devil. Every second added to the danger menacing the flocks of sheep imprisoned by the far-flung wire fences.

“Sorry, Morris, but we can do nothing to help you now,” Stanton said gruffly. “The fool strike snookered you, or you would have been away in the car before we received news of the fire. Now we need every machine that will go.”

“It seems a mess-up from the start, Jeff. First your daughter warns Dot and Dash after being told it was Dot and Dash we were after. Then the men pretend to go on strike, for it certainly looks like a put-up stunt. Things will have to be sorted out later. I’m going back to Mount Lion to dispatch telegrams and to get a car of some sort. Rowland will ride after their truck, for it is quite on the cards that they will abandon it. They will know full well that they’ll be safer on foot. You might lend old Moongalliti a horse so that he can go with him.”