The Bone is Pointed. Arthur W. Upfield
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but it will be proved some time if not now. As I’ve often said, you’ll be taking Jeffery Anderson before he’s much older, mark my words. Where’s Abie this morning? He hasn’t come for his breakfast.”
“He’s lying in, I suppose. And the horse waiting for a feed. Abie’s getting that way that I’ll have to shake him up. They all go the same in time. Can’t keep away from the tribe more than a month.”
Breakfast over, Blake rose and lit a pipe. Without hat he stepped down into the yard at the rear of the building and crossed it to the stables on the far side. Here a horse was always kept ready for duty, although Blake ran his own car and one of his two constables owned a motor cycle outfit. It was the tracker’s main duty to exercise, feed and groom the horse, and he camped in one of the vacant stalls.
To Blake’s astonishment the stretcher provided for the tracker was not occupied, nor were there lying about it any articles of spare clothing or the stockwhip of which he was so proud. The sleek brown mare in the adjacent stall whinnied her request for breakfast, and, with a heavy frown between his eyes, the Sergeant took her out to water at the trough. He shouted several times for Abie. There was no reply. Blake was now convinced that the tracker had left to rejoin his tribe. He had been at the stable at ten o’clock the previous night. Out in the yard Blake met one of his two constables.
“Seen Abie this morning?” he asked, grey eyes glinting.
“No, Sergeant.”
“Must have cleared out. Nothing belonging to him now in his quarters, and Kate neither watered nor fed. I’ve just attended to her. You’d better groom her, and then you can ride her out to Mackay’s place and get that return fixed up.”
Throughout the morning Blake worked in the station office, having for companion his other constable who pounded on a typewriter with his index fingers. After lunch he called Meena Station.
“Gordon speaking.”
“Good day, Mr Gordon. You seen anything of Abie? Not in his quarters at breakfast time.”
“No, I haven’t. The tribe cleared out for Deep Well early to-day. I didn’t see them go. Abie might have been with them.”
Gordon described the message at Black Gate.
“Well, Abie’s not on hand to-day. Did the tribe go on walkabout to see old Sarah?”
“Oh yes. Jimmy Partner went, too. Grandma Sarah is dying out at Deep Well, and they’ve all gone there to do the usual thing when she’s dead. Nero is the only black left here in camp, and he’s having a gum-leaf bake for rheumatism. At least he was when I went to the camp after breakfast. Could see nothing of him but his head. How much rain did you get in town?”
“A hundred and fifty-two points. What did you have?”
“A hundred and forty-eight. Must have been a general rain. Did you hear what Karwir got?”
“Yes. Karwir got a hundred and seventy. Old Lacy rang me up early this morning to say that Jeff Anderson is missing. His horse was found outside the paddock gate this morning, and all hands, led by Young Lacy, are out mustering the country for him.”
“Strange!” exclaimed John Gordon. “Anderson is a pretty good rider, you’ll admit. What paddock was he working in?”
“Green Swamp. Left to ride the fences yesterday morning. Old Lacy says it’s too boggy for the plane to get off the ground out there.”
“Jimmy Partner and I were working in our East Paddock which is as you know north of Karwir’s Green Swamp Paddock. We were getting small mobs of sheep away from the Channels on account of the rain making bogs of them. We were often in sight of the boundary fence but we never saw Anderson. Let me know when you get news from Karwir, will you? I mayn’t be here, but mother will.”
Shortly after four o’clock Old Lacy again rang Sergeant Blake. He reported:
“The lad has sent Bill the Better home to say they haven’t come across Jeff Anderson. They back-tracked The Black Emperor along the road for about a mile to where the hoof marks were wiped out by the rain. There are no signs that Anderson reached the hut and camped there overnight. They’ve found no track or sign of horse or man. D’you think you could send out or come out with your tracker? Road ought to be drying by now. My girl took me out to the boundary gate in the car this afternoon.”
Blake reported the disappearance of Abie, and its probable cause.
“I’ll get in touch with Gordon and ask him to ride after the tribe and bring over a couple of trackers. They ought to be on the job first thing in the morning—if Anderson hasn’t been found before nightfall.”
For several seconds Old Lacy was silent and Blake was beginning to think the squatter had hung up his instrument when the booming voice spoke.
“Funny that those blacks went on walkabout this morning and that your tracker left to go with ’em. Did you know anything about old Sarah dying?”
“No. Gordon said he and Jimmy Partner came across a sign message at Black Gate yesterday, and that when they got home Jimmy Partner told the tribe of it, saying that Sarah was pegging out. Gordon also said that he and Jimmy Partner were working sheep off the Channels in his East Paddock, and were often close to the boundary fence but didn’t see Anderson. I’ll ring him up about going after a couple of trackers. Let me know how your men get on, will you?”
When Blake did ring Meena it was Mrs Gordon who answered the call.
“John has gone riding round to the west side of the lake to see if any water has come down Meena Creek into the lake,” she said, adding eagerly: “Have you had news yet of Mr Anderson?”
“No, they haven’t found him, Mrs Gordon. You see, the rain has blotted out all tracks to be seen by white men. Will you ask Mr Gordon to ring me immediately he gets home?”
John Gordon rang Blake at five minutes past seven.
“No, they hadn’t found Anderson at six o’clock when the men came home for dinner,” Blake told him. “They’re all leaving again to-night to camp at the hut at Green Swamp so’s to be out on the job again in the morning early. Will you get after the blacks first thing and bring a couple of ’em to hunt for tracks?”
“Certainly. I’ll have to take horses because the road to Deep Well can’t be used for two or three days. Too many deep water-gutters to cross. But I may not succeed all the same. The blacks haven’t forgotten how Anderson treated Inky Boy, you know.”
“Humph! Well, that can be understood,” Blake agreed. “Still, you might try ’em.”
“Oh yes, I’ll go after them. I’ll leave before daylight.”
“Good enough. Old Lacy is talking about foul play, or hinting at it. Seems to think the blacks might have lulled Anderson for his treatment of Inky Boy.”
“Oh, I say! That’s all rot,” Gordon said warmly. “Why, you know, Sergeant, that if the blacks wanted revenge for what Anderson did to Inky Boy they would not have waited all this time to take it. And, if they had killed him, I’d have known of it by now.”
“I’m more than inclined to agree with you on that score, Mr Gordon,” Blake said with unmistakable candour. “They’ll find Anderson with a broken leg, probably. If they don’t I think we can search for him elsewhere. Good night!”
“Good night, Sergeant. I’ll get a tracker or two across to Karwir as quickly as I can. I can be almost sure of Jimmy Partner.”
But Jeffery Anderson was not found by the Karwir searchers or by the blacks brought to Karwir by John Gordon three days after The Black Emperor was seen at the gate by Bill the Better.
May passed and June, and still the bush held Jeffery Anderson.
Old Lacy openly accused the Kalchut tribe of murdering him and burying the body, and the Gordons, mother and son, stoutly defended them. Sergeant