Man of Two Tribes (4 page)

Chapter Six

IT is not pleasant to know you are being followed. Footsteps behind, that alter their rhythm when you do, have a peculiarly sinister import, especially when the night is dark and street lighting inadequate. Bony could not hear footsteps behind his short camel train, for the winding track was soft underfoot, but his suspicion was born of expectancy, and steadily nurtured by the birds.

The track was like a snake's trail, meandering through clumps of gimlet trees, skirting an occasional rock knob, crossing shallow depressions bearing thick waitabit and jamwoods.

When they had travelled more than a mile, Lucy ran off into the scrub and waited for them to follow her lead.

Neither pausing nor calling to her, Bony continued right ahead, and at once Millie began to tug gently against the noseline and softly moan objection to going forward. Curley was even more reluctant. He bellowed and walked sidewise, pranced and tucked his hind quarters under his load, hopeful of it becoming unbalanced and falling from him.

Careful not to betray any curiosity in that turn off, Bony determinedly continued along the track, compelled by Curley's behaviour to glance constantly backward, and at the same time seeking for a hint of an unknown follower.

There are two causes for camel rebellion: leaving the home paddock, and travelling over country not recently visited, if at all. Like the dog, they wanted to take that turn-off—merely a pad now washed out by the rain—because that was the way old Lonergan had previously taken them. To the northward, not to this westward country of salt-pans.

Outwardly the camels were resigned when the track branched, the main branch continuing away to the south. Bony followed the lesser track which would take him to the bore, six miles farther on, and decided to continue walking as he would have better command over the camels who, although now docile, still had fire in their eyes.

Now and then he stopped to test the ropes on Curley's pack, pretending nervousness of the balance of the load, the while he listened to the birds whose persistent warning of the presence of someone back along the track convinced him that the follower's job was to be certain that he did head for the bore.

Why this interest? The head stockman had said the dogs were working to the north of the homestead, then, in support of the Weatherbys, that the dogs were numerous to the westward. And, further, that an aborigine had seen the tracks of Lonergan's camels westward of a rock upthrust, called the Splinter.

Why this effort to prevent him, William Black, from going northward? It was to the north of the homestead that Lonergan had his trap-line. Lucy and the camels plainly said so. Gold! Was gold behind the conspiracy to get William Black out of this country and back to Rawlinna? Old Patsy could have been on to gold. He could have mentioned his ‘find' to the Weatherbys, although it was most unlikely he would divulge the locality. Or were they, despite the normalcy of their homestead, associated with that mysterious helicopter?

They had never mentioned to Easter that Lonergan had seen this helicopter. A tit-bit of bush news, it was most likely he had spoken of it, and for reasons of their own they had decided to let the subject die with the old man, unaware of the diary he kept.

Anyway, he, William Black, was being seen off the premises. That was now certain, because although some birds are arrant liars in matters concerning their own affairs, they
never lie to each other concerning the activities of bipeds, and quadrupeds like dogs and foxes.

The birds told Bony that the follower gave up when about three miles from the bore, but there remained the necessity of leaving proof on the track that he and the camels actually did reach the bore, and proceed beyond it. And so, all the way the camels left proof on the sandy top-soil.

It was past two o'clock when he reached the bore of the non-flowing type, necessitating a pump and windmill to work it. It was not pretty country, being semi-arid, drab in colouring, the scrub stunted and almost useless for stock. There was water in the line of troughing, but no wild dogs had visited this place since the rain of a week or two back, and none of their tracks were on the road from the homestead.

After a meal and an hour's rest for the camels, Bony led them directly to the west. There was now no road and the farther he proceeded the poorer became the country. Despite the recent rain, there was no surface water.

Six miles beyond the bore, Bony decided to camp for the night at the edge of a depression, and unloaded the animals amid the low scrub and took them to the saltbush where he hobbled and belled them.

As customary, they stood facing each other and conversed with their eyes, clearly exchanging views about this new master, this ugly country which might spring nasty surprises on them, and the general cussedness of life. Lucy squatted beside Bony's fire and watched them and, when the conference was over, both camels pretended contentment until they thought the man had forgotten them, whereupon both abruptly headed eastward for the homestead paddock, making for low scrub where they could be detected only by the dwindling sound of the bells.

A loaded camel will walk all day at two miles and a half to the hour. A hobbled camel will travel one mile in an hour when controlled by the insatiable urge to return to some place or other. Here is a land where distance is measured by the
hour, where only the initiated can hope to move from one point to another, and where only the bush masters can find water. There were no landmarks, just dun-coloured scrub with an occasional green-black tree growing a little taller. There were no rabbits, and, Bony was convinced, the dogs and foxes had deserted a long time since.

Before sundown, Bony went after the camels and brought them to camp, where he tied them to stout scrub trees for the night. The slight westerly wind dropped, and only the occasional clank of a bell disturbed the complete silence. This land was deserted, even by the birds.

They left camp the next morning before sunrise, both camels still resentful. In case anyone at the homestead might determine to track William Black as far as his first night camp, Bony led the animals directly to the south-east and towards far distant Rawlinna, thus registering his decision to abandon search for the traps and to return to Norseman. Two miles he proceeded on this course before again turning to the west, and following another mile, turned to the north to begin a giant curve which would bring him to the Nullarbor Plain some twenty miles to the north of the Mount Singular homestead.

Long distances, many miles and many hours, to thwart a trailer.

Immediately they headed northward the camels became Little Lord Fauntleroys, although they were hungry and had no cud. Lucy expressed her happiness by trotting ahead. The sun shone warmly, the flies were less irritating, and thus all was well. Bony was able to ride, and Millie walked with a swing like a girl taking pleasure in swirling her skirt to best advantage. Curley swung along behind her, head high, eyes bright, hungry and no longer rebellious.

Toward four o'clock they reached open grassy spaces, and narrow belts of wattles, in late golden bloom, and a few minutes later Lucy sat down abruptly and smiled up at Bony. She sat on a narrow camel pad which the rain hadn't entirely
obliterated, and here Millie evinced desire to follow this pad to the homestead. He had to dismount to compel her to follow him to the north, and half an hour later, he sighted five sandalwood trees beyond which was nothing but the sky.

These five magnificent trees appeared to be guarded by great boulders, and amid these boulders Bony found evidence of a camelman's camp.

The place was on the point of a promontory overlooking the Nullarbor. Here were the everlasting daisies, flannel bush, luscious waitabit and other delectable feed for camels, and Bony could not unload and hobble fast enough for Millie and Curley.

This was Sandalwood Camp, mentioned in the diary and the second camp out from the homestead. In a natural haven provided by three boulders was a heap of ashes proving the heat of many fires lit by lonely old Patsy Lonergan, and it was here that the character of the man first emerged for Bony.

He left it to the very end of the day before bringing the camels to neck-rope each to a tree. They were tired, replete, placid, prepared to camp for the night, and when it was dark he could see their pale shapes, and they could see him squatted about his fire as he kneaded baking-powder dough and finally placed it in a bed of hot ashes. It was then that first Curley and then Millie became restless, getting to their feet, lying down, rising again, and continuing thus to register growing emotion.

The ants could not be the cause. Hunger was certainly absent. They had been broken in to going without water for three days, so thirst wasn't worrying them.

While the bread was baking, Bony opened a tin of meat for himself and the dog. He had placed the tucker-box to gain the firelight, and before the box had laid out Lonergan's tablecloth, a yard square of canvas. Lucy now crouched close by watching him, and when offered the meat in the opened tin, she wrinkled her nose and looked offended.

Bony ate, and she continued to regard him with pleading eyes, until he thought he knew what troubled her. The meat
had to be cut and served on a tin plate. She ate daintily, then asked for a crust of the bread loaf, and he was astonished when she carried it at once to Curley.

Curley's moaning ceased. The dog returned to beg for another crust, and this she took to Millie. Thereafter, both animals laid themselves down and seldom moved until day broke.

So there was a facet of a dead man's character. His dog had to eat from a plate, and his camels had to receive a crust of bread taken to them every night by the dog. Doubtless the old man would converse with his three animals. Assuredly it would be a one-way traffic, opinions and questions and answers all verbally expressed, but not necessarily a one-way traffic of thought.

These three animals were now at a place they knew, and now they demanded the attention which was customary at this place. The previous night, out in the salt-pan country, the dog hadn't asked for a plate, and the camels hadn't demanded bread crusts.

Having washed the limited utensils, Bony poked the ashes with a stick and raked out the now perfectly baked loaf. He could hear faintly the gurgle of cud when brought up the long neck to the throat. The stars were lamps, indeed. At a distance a fox barked, and on a branch of a sandalwood a mopoke ‘porked'.

As man has ever done, Bony squatted over the tiny fire, now and then pushing the burning ends of wood into the central glow. It is a time for cogitating, a time for mental relaxation into which often intrude vital thoughts and pictures. Questions were under the surface of his mind, and at odd moments these had stirred throughout the day.

Why had the attempt been made to ‘slew' him away from this north country bordering the Nullarbor Plain? To all intents and purposes it was a no-man's country. Uranium instead of gold might be the answer. But, were it a question of
gold or uranium, why the necessity of employing an unregistered helicopter?

Was there a helicopter? Had imagination dictated Lonergan's note on the helicopter by sheer coincidence with the night the woman vanished? It resolved to fact or imagination: it must be reduced to the minimum by establishing the state of Lonergan's mind.

The reports he had seen on Lonergan, written by the dead man's relatives, the Norseman policeman and the hotelkeeper, contributed to but one picture. Lonergan was old but still physically tough. After long abstemiousness once he broke himself in, he could out-drink men half his age and, no matter his condition, could speak intelligibly. The Norseman policeman had stated that Lonergan's mental condition was that of an old man who had lived too long in solitude, that his mind wandered when asked questions, and that this wasn't intended evasion.

This to Bony was the crux. The diary proved deliberate evasion of the facts of his travels, although this could well be the habit of many years. Still, there must be taken into account the manifestations of solitude, because solitude does produce extraordinary results, many of which the professional psychologist would decline to consider. These Bony had to contend with when taking his first step toward the authenticity or otherwise of that entry.

The next day was greeted by the camels and the dog with that absence of irritation ruling when routine is being followed. Millie sank to her knees without objection, to permit Bony to mount behind her hump. Curley gazed amiably about the night camp and decided to behave. Lucy regarded man and animals, and then actually led the way from camp—to the north. The family was harmoniously complete. The sun rose in the usual place, and the sky was cloudless.

For an hour they proceeded along this verdant strip overlooking the Plain, and then Lucy led down the slope to a blunt
inlet, from which they moved on to the Plain and continued northward.

Bony now had to rely entirely on the dog and the camels to take him from camp to camp, made previously by Patsy Lonergan.

Lonergan had written: “Nothing in trap at She-Oak Rock.”

They came to a great rock which appeared as though it had tried to roll on a tree. The tree was a she-oak, and at the foot of the tree was a trap holding a golden dog fox. Lucy sniffed at the carcase, then lifted a lip at the rider. Again, as William Black who might still be followed, Bony slid down from the high saddle and removed the scalp, which was worth at this time, two pounds. The trap he hung in the tree.

Without bothering to settle Millie in order to mount, Bony hauled himself up to the saddle, and they went on. He did nothing to drive or guide. The animal followed the dog, and sometimes the dog followed Curley, and the way hugged this ‘coast' of steep slopes with its promontories, bays and inlets and little islands off ‘shore'.

At one point Millie turned into the cliff and halted at the foot of a landslide years old. This puzzled Bony because there was no mention in the diary of such a place for a trap. He prospected on foot, and found that the rubble contained quartz, and that Lonergan had stopped here to nap some of it for possible gold content. The camels hadn't forgotten that for them it had been a temporary rest camp.