Whenever he felt
inclined for what he called "a pitch with the boss and missus" he would
saunter past at a little distance, apparently bound for the billabong,
but in reality ready to respond to the Maluka's "Is that you, Dan?"
although just as ready to saunter on if that invitation was not
forthcoming - a happy little arrangement born of that tact and delicacy of
the bush-folk that never intrudes on another man's privacy.
Dan being just Dan rarely had need to saunter on; and as he sewed down on
the grass in acceptance of this usual form of invitation, he wagged his
head wisely, declaring "she had got on so well with her education that it
'ud be a pity not to finish her off properly." Then dropping his
bantering tone, he reported a scatter-on among the river cattle.
"I wasn't going to say anything about it before the "boys," he said, "but
it's time some one gave a surprise party down the river;" and a
"scatter-on" meaning "niggers in," Maluka readily agreed to a surprise
patrol of the river country, that being forbidden ground for blacks'
camps.
"It's no good going unless it's going to be a surprise party," Dan
reiterated; and when the Quiet Stockman was called across from the
Quarters, he was told that "there wasn't going to be no talking before
the boys."
Further consultations being necessary, Dan feared arousing suspicion, and
to ensure his surprise party, and to guard against any word of the coming
patrol being sent out-bush by the station "boys," he indulged in a little
dust-throwing, and there was much talking in public about going "out to
the north-west for the boss to have another look round there," and much
laying of deep plans in private.
Finally, it was decided that the Quiet Stockman and his "boys" were to
patrol the country north from the river while we were to keep to the
south banks and follow the river down to the boundaries in all its
windings, each party appointed to camp at the Red Lily lagoons second
night out, each, of course, on its own side of the river. It being
necessary for Jack to cross the river beyond the Springs, he left the
homestead half a day before us - public gossip reporting that he was
"going beyond the Waterhouse horse mustering," and Dan finding
dust-throwing highly diverting, shouted after him that he "might as well
bring some fresh relays to the Yellow Hole in a day or two," and then
giving his attention to the packing of swags and pack-bags, "reckoned
things were just about fixed up for a surprise party."
CHAPTER XX
At our appointed time we left the homestead, taking the north-west track
for over a mile to continue the dust-throwing; and for the whole length
of that mile Dan reiterated the "advantages of surprise parties," and his
opinion that "things were just about properly fixed up for one"; and when
we left the track abruptly and set off across country at right angles to
it, Sambo's quick questioning, suspicious glance made it very evident
that he, for one, had gleaned no inkling of the patrol, which naturally
filled Dan with delight.
"River to-night, Sambo," he said airily, but after that one swift glance
Sambo rode after us as stolid as ever - Sambo was always difficult to
fathom - while Dan spent the afternoon congratulating himself on the
success of his dust-throwing, proving with many illustrations that "it's
the hardest thing to spring a surprise on niggers. Something seems to
tell 'em you're coming," he explained. "Some chaps put it down to
second-sight or thought-reading."
When we turned in Dan was still chuckling over his cute handling of the
trip. "Bluffed 'em this time all right," he assured us, little guessing
that the blacks at the "Red Lilies," thirty miles away, and other little
groups of blacks travelling down the river towards the lagoons were
conjecturing on the object of the Maluka's visit - "something having told
them we were coming."
The "something" however, was neither second-sight nor thought-reading,
but a very simple, tangible "something." Sambo had gone for a stroll
from our camp about sundown, and one of Jack's boys had gone for a stroll
from Jack's camp, and soon afterwards two tell-tale telegraphic columns
of smoke, worked on some blackfellow dot-dash-system, had risen above the
timber, and their messages had also been duly noted down at the Red
Lilies and elsewhere, and acted upon. The Maluka was on the river, and
when the Maluka was about, it was considered wisdom to be off forbidden
ground; not that the blacks feared the Maluka, but no one cares about
vexing the goose that lays the golden eggs.
On stations in the Never-Never the blacks are supposed to camp either in
the homesteads, where no man need go hungry, or right outside the
boundaries on waters beyond the cattle, travelling in or out as desired,
on condition that they keep to the main travellers' tracks - blacks among
the cattle having a scattering effect on the herd, apart from the fact
that "niggers in" generally means cattle-killing.
Of course no man ever hopes to keep his blacks absolutely obedient to
this rule; but the judicious giving of an odd bullock at not too rare
intervals, and always at corroborree times, the more judicious winking at
cattle killing on the boundaries, where cattle scaring is not all
disadvantage, and the even more judicious giving of a hint, when a hint
is necessary, will do much to keep them fairly well in hand, anyway from
openly harrying and defiant killing, which in humanity is surely all any
man should ask.
