The Bone is Pointed

by Arthur W. Upfield

  What eventually aroused Bony’s interest in a particular claypan within a few yards of the solitary mulga-tree was the extremely faint ridging of its surface in the rough form of a giant star. So faintly corrugated were these marks that even Bony, with his inherited keen eyesight, would not have observed them had he not been looking for just such marks.

  The claypan was one of the larger pans along this ribbon of claypans. Like all the other pans it was surrounded by a ridge of soft sand in which were two natural cuttings. One took overflow water from the pan nearer the dunes and slightly higher, the second cutting permitted overflow water to fall into the pan lower and nearer the flat lands, all the claypans representing shallow steps from the dunes to the flat country.

  Accompanied by the dogs, Bony walked to the slope of the nearest dune where he sat down and rested his back against it. His investigation was complete. Again he had successfully solved a case.

  “Yes, it was very cleverly done,” he told Hool-’Em-Up. “A claypan makes a perfect grave, one never to be detected by man, by bird or ant or wild dog. One that will never fall in. One that nature itself will cover with stone almost as hard as marble. Beneath the surface of that cement-hard claypan lies the body of Jeffery Anderson and, most probably, his stockwhip and his horse’s neck-rope.

  “Ha—hum! I have the feeling that I am going to be sentimental. After all is said and done about justice, why should a dead man be able to do more evil to the living than he accomplished whilst he lived? And what sense would there be in arraigning men on a charge of justifiable homicide merely to acquit them? To do so in this case would be no tribute to justice. It would be opposed to the rightful interests of very many men and women, even little children. Yes, I am sure I am going to be sentimental.”

  The blue eyes were shining as Bony slowly and falteringly walked back to the fence, and so on to reach his camp where he brewed a billy of weak tea and drank it with the addition of fresh milk left by Sergeant Blake.

  He lay down for an hour before shakily saddling the mare, and mounted her with the assistance of a tree stump. Once on her back he was rested, and slowly she carried him to Green Swamp well, where at the trough she took her fill of water. Bony was satisfied and quietly triumphant, and when the sun was westering and the first of the birds were arriving at the trough to drink, he became blind to his surroundings while he planned the dramatic dénouement of this case. The horse, instead of taking him back to his camp, followed the track to the main road leading to the homestead, and when Bony “awoke” he found himself opposite the southern corner post set in the middle of the southernmost depression.

  This hot and still afternoon the mirage water lay deep over the depressions. Small bushes growing on the separating ridges appeared like giant trees and the ridges themselves like tall cliffs. It was strange water, this mirage water; it could never be reached. The walking horse, on its way to the camp, for ever walked on dry land, as though it were carried by an island, less than fifty feet across, from ridge to ridge. The fence before and behind ran back into the “water,” then rose to an extraordinary height above it.

  The horse was crossing one of these wide depressions when the detective’s interest was abruptly aroused by innumerable lines of grey dust cutting the surface of the mirage westward of the barrier. All these growing dust lines were approaching the fence. They were not unlike the tips of shark fins.

  In the far distance a peculiarly yellowish mist was rising from the mirage water, as though the sinking sun were sucking upward impurities from the heated ground beneath the “sea”. Bony directed his horse to the fence the better to observe this phenomenon, and so the animal came to stand on an “island” bisected by the Karwir boundary fence.

  Then, as though coming up out of a prehistoric sea, as though wading through the shallows to reach the dry land, there appeared dun-coloured sticks, all in pairs. High and still higher out of the “water” came the first of the twin sticks. On the surface of the shallows appeared dark things all moving towards the shore. Small brown heads appeared at the base of the sticks, and, astonished, Bony saw they were rabbits.

  They swarmed to land on his “island,” the first of them to run without hesitation to the netting, which flung them back. Again and again they dashed at the barrier dazed yet unafraid and determined.

  Where, less than a minute before, there had been no living thing beyond the fence, now rabbits stood on their hind legs against the netting, some pushing their noses into the mesh, others savagely gnawing the wire. And without cease countless rabbits came swimming to the island to join in the onslaught on the fence.

  Now above the mirage sea the yellowish fog was rising higher. The silence itself began to throb.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Life Gone Mad

  THE migration of rabbits sweeping south-eastward from Meena Lake was the first Napoleon Bonaparte had seen. Once, beside a lonely campfire, he had listened to a man describing a rabbit migration that had ended against the South Australia-New South Wales border fence in a forty-mile-long rampart of carcases. And now the rabbits were piling into the V made by an angle of the Karwir boundary fence.

  Normally rabbits are controlled by fear of their many enemies—men, dogs, foxes, eagles. Their lives are governed by caution begot by fear out of hereditary experience. Having no defensive weapons other than claws and teeth, which they employ ineffectively and seldom in time to be of service, they never attack other animals and rarely attack each other.

  A host of rabbits had sprung into being over the miles of country bordering Meena Lake. Then came the first of the dry seasons when, moisture failing in grass and shrubs and herbage, the host had centred upon the drying water of the lake. When the water had vanished the host increased no more. Yet all the enemies of the rodent seemed to make not the slightest reduction of the total number. Then came that April rain during which Jeffery Anderson had disappeared, and, as soon as the new grass appeared over the uplands, like a giant bomb the host burst outward to take charge of deserted burrows, clean them out, and show the world how it could breed.

  Every doe began to breed after reaching the age of nine weeks. Every litter ranged from five to seven young ones among which the females predominated. From April to the end of September every doe gave birth to about twelve young ones. And the does greatly predominated.

  During October a fearful battle for existence had been waged against starvation and thirst as well as against the increase of natural enemies. Only the strongest of the young ones had survived, but even so those that died were as nothing to the number that lived.

  About the hour that Diana Lacy and John Gordon discussed Bony’s illness at the boundary fence, an order was issued to the rabbits massed on the shores of Meena Lake.

  What issued the order no man can tell. The order impelled the host to move away from the place that had given it birth to some mysterious place far to the south east and in obedience to the order nothing could halt its progress except a river of water or a netted fence.

  Natural caution and fear were in a flash of time driven out of these Meena rabbits. They became controlled by one mass idea like the people of a totalitarian state. Formerly each individual unit lived independently of other units, swayed by fear and governed by hunger; now they had no desire other than to obey the order. Even the primary instinct of self-preservation had been taken from it. From a shy and docile creature, self-willed and possessing a degree of cunning, it had become an automaton in a mass relentless in purpose, irresistible in movement, entirely fearless.

  Close though Bony was to the bush and its varied and often hidden life, he sat his horse entranced by this unfolding drama of the wild. Compared with it his human dramas were petty and ridiculous.

  Normally the mirage lying so deeply over the depressions culminating at Green Swamp would have drained slowly away as the sun set; but this late afternoon the rabbit host rushing upon Karwir quickly dispelled the mirage water beneath the surface of which it moved. On th
e Karwir side of the fence the “water” remained long after it had vanished on the Meena side.

  In the van ran the leaders, big strong grey bucks, their teeth bloodied in many a combat, their rumps scarred and scabbed, their ears bearing honourable wounds. Without halt they advanced to the barrier, dashed against the mesh as though blind, and were flung back in dazed astonishment. The manner in which they then behaved clearly indicated that the impact had momentarily awakened their minds. Then the mass hypnosis controlled them again, and again they charged the fence. After several defeats, they stood against the netting with nostrils scenting the wire and sharp teeth testing its strength.

  The does forming the main body of the horde had not yet reached the fence. They were advancing on a front miles wide, until the left flank struck the barrier eastward of the northern corner post of the two mile north-south section, and ran along the fence past Bony’s camp and the mulga-tree. The right flank met the fence somewhere westward of the gate spanning the Karwir road to Opal Town, and from this point ran along it eastward into the V of the angle.

  Bony’s frenzied dogs sprang to the fence, clambered over the topmost barbed wire and jumped down to slaughter rabbits. There was no chasing the rodents. They ran straight to the dogs’ slavering jaws, ran between their legs as though unconscious of them. In less than three minutes the dogs wearied of the killing. One lay down pantingly and rabbits leapt over it. The other slunk towards the fence to gaze up at Bony, and rabbits bumped against its legs till, suddenly prompted by fear, it leapt over the fence, followed by its amazed companion.

  Now when Bony urged his horse northward along the barrier he met rabbits running the fence southward, following the line of least resistance to their general advance to the south-east. Rows of rabbits were standing against the netting testing it with their teeth. From the north-west countless others were arriving every second to join those running the fence southward, and now among the arrivals were black, blue, white, fawn, and piebald rodents, rarely seen in normal conditions.

  Bony had forgotten the triumphant conclusion of his investigation. He was unconscious of his physical weakness. When his horse desired to leave the fence to walk direct to the camp, he reined her back so that she kept alongside the barrier.

  The sun was low to the distant horizon, now hidden by the faint red dust-mist raised by the horde. The sun itself was an orb of scarlet. So still was the evening air that this mist did not extend eastward of the fence.

  At the northern corner post, Bony was interested to see how the rodents followed the line of least resistance when reaching the fence. Those that arrived south of the corner post proceeded southward and those that were met by the fence eastward of the corner ran to the east past his camp and over the sand-dunes. As far as he could see, west and north, uncountable rodents were advancing from the north-west.

  The dogs slunk to camp with him and, having yarded and fed his horse, Bony made a pint of meat extract and drank it with bread broken into it. And then, having fed the dogs with grilled rabbit, he stood for a moment in the gloom of early night listening to the march of life gone mad beyond the fence. It was not unlike wind among mulga leaves.

  He was up again at break of day, feeling stronger, but still far from normal. In the silence of early morning, he again heard the sound not unlike wind among mulga leaves, and when the light of the sun reached the earth he saw at the foot of the fence a thick line of fur, tipped with little sticks moving endlessly up and over the sand-dunes to the east.

  Still unable to mount his horse from the ground, Bony led her to the tree stump. Breakfasted, he was indeed a vastly improved man compared with the tortured wreck from whom Dr Malluc had sucked six little pointed bones and two eagle’s claws. His new-found mind was hungry to feed on the impressions offered by this extraordinary manifestation of life. His dogs did not attempt to climb the fence again. They trotted behind the horse, evincing lordly disdain of the scurry of rodents barred back by the netting.

  As Bony advanced southward over the depressions, the risen sun striking hotly on his left side, the stream of rodents beyond the fence widened. Every second, dozens of rabbits coming direct from Meena Lake swelled it more. From a trickle at the northern fence post, the flow of fur became a stream when horse and man and dogs began to cross the last depression in the centre of which stood the southern corner post. Into this angle flowed the stream accompanying Bony. Into it, too, flowed a greater stream along the fence coming eastward from the main road gate.

  The V of the angle presented an astonishing sight. Like wind-driven snow, rabbits were piled in a solid mass against the barrier for fifty yards back from the corner post. The mass had been suffocated, and now up this mound of fur ran living rodents to reach the top of the netting and to jump down into Karwir. They were like a brown waterfall, the lip of which extended along the two sides of the V for ten or twelve feet. Once over the fence they streamed on and away to the southeast, raising a wide ribbon of greyish dust upon which the sunlight of early morning thickened to hide the animals running below it.

  Within the angle itself the mound sloped down to a moving sea of fur covering several acres, a sea in which were many eddies and cross currents. Here and there the sea was ridged and humped by the living rodents on top of those that had died of exhaustion. And into the sea footing the mound poured the two streams coming from the west and the north along the fence.

  Bony could observe no slackening in the tide of fur sweeping towards Karwir, but he did observe that among the rodents was a goodly proportion of does. There were no half-grown rabbits; all were adult and strong. The number of those already arrived could not be estimated; their weight in tons could not be guessed. There was never a break in the procession coming directly to the angle or in the streams coming along the fence.

  It was shortly after ten o’clock when Bony heard the hum of a motor engine, and he noted the time by the sun’s position, thinking that it was early for Sergeant Blake’s visit. The car was coming along the branch track from the Karwir-Opal Town road, and, expecting to see a Karwir car or truck bringing him horse feed and probably fresh meat and bread, Bony was surprised to see a yellow utility truck appear on the road where it began to skirt the south edge of the depression. The truck left the road there and came directly towards him. He saw Gordon driving it and two aboriginals perched on top of a load of wire netting.

  Welcomed by the dogs, Gordon and the blacks reached ground, and the aboriginals at once began to unload the rolls of netting while Gordon walked towards Bony. Bony slid from his horse to meet the Meena squatter, now wearing khaki drill trousers, open-neck shirt and a wide-brimmed felt hat. He looked hard. He walked with the mincing step of the horseman. A smile was upon his face but not in his eyes.

  “Good day, Inspector!” he said, in greeting. “I hope you are better to-day after Malluc’s services yesterday. He seems quite confident that his beastly medicine will have effected a cure.”

  “Good morning Mr Gordon,” Bony returned, smiling. “Yes, Dr Malluc is a great medico and something of a surgeon, too. He operated on me successfully, removing from my insides six little pointed bones and two eagle’s claws.”

  “He would have to go through with his picturesque performance,” complained the young man. “Well, I am very pleased to know you are better. It’s a dickens of a mess here, isn’t it? The migration moved faster than I anticipated. Didn’t expect it to arrive here before this evening, but we knew last night it was headed into this angle and so brought the netting to top the fence. We’ll have to cut poles to string it on, and you’ll excuse me for not talking more just now.”

  “Of course. Perhaps if you left your billies and water and the tucker box over there in the shade of that leopardwood I could act as camp cook. You’ll want plenty of tea, and I’m useless for hard work.”

  “That’s decent of you. We’ll do that. It’s going to be a snorter to-day and we’ll want all the drink we can get. Malluc says you ought have another dose of his medici
ne. He can get the fire going for you and brew the stuff while Jimmy Partner and I go off for a load of poles.”

  Bony laughed, saying:

  “I’m a willing patient, and Dr Malluc’s medicine doesn’t taste so badly.”

  “Righto!”

  Gordon hurried back to the now unloaded utility and, with the blacks beside him on the running-boards, he drove to the tall leafy tree standing where the road began to skirt the depression less than a quarter of a mile from the comer post.

  Within the shade of another tree Bony neck-roped his horse, and then joined Malluc who had made a fire and was filling the billies with water from several four-gallon petrol tins.

  “You goodoh, boss?” he inquired cheerfully.

  “Much better, Malluc. You fine feller medicine man all right,” Bony said, flatteringly. “Are those the herbs in that billy?”

  “Herbs?” Malluc questioned.

  “Med’cine.”

  Malluc laughed, saying:

  “Herb feller no belong Kalchut.” Then he remembered the rabbits and pointed to the mound of fur at the point of the V. “Bimeby plenty stink, eh? All no good feller. Skin-em-feller no good. Now no fish in Meena and now no rabbit feller at Meena. Blackfeller him do a perish.”

  This appeared to be a joke, for he laughed uproariously, both hands pressed to his flat stomach. It was a joke with a lasting savour, for he continued to laugh while he attended to the brewing of his medicine and afterwards when he stood with the billy in one hand and tested the falling temperature of the liquid with the point of a dusty finger.

  “You drink-em-down,” he urged when satisfied.