The Book of the Bush by George Dunderdale (always you kirsty moseley TXT) 📖

I took 'em? I'll tell you what it is, Baldy; it'll be just as well for you to keep your blasted tongue quiet about your sheep, for if I hear any more about 'em, I'll see you for it; do you hear?"

"Oh, yes, I hear. All right, Nosey, we'll see about it," said Baldy.

There would have been a fight perhaps, but Baldy was a smaller man than the other and was growing old, while Nosey was in the prime of life.

Baldy went to Nyalong next day. His rations did not include gin, and he wanted some badly, the more so because he was in trouble about his lost sheep. Gin, known then as "Old Tom," was his favourite remedy for all ailments, both of mind and body. If he could not find out what had become of his sheep, his master might dismiss him without a character. There was not much good character running to waste on the stations, but still no squatter would like to entrust a flock to a shepherd who was suspected of having stolen and sold his last master's sheep.

Baldy walked to Nyalong along the banks of the lake. The country was then all open, unfenced, except the paddocks at the home stations. The boundary between two of the runs was merely marked by a ploughed furrow, not very straight, which started near the lake, and went eastward along the plains. In the Rises no plough could make a line through the rocks, and the boundaries there were imaginary. Stray cattle were roaming over the country, eating the grass, and the main resource of the squatters was the Pounds Act. Hay was then sold at 80 pounds per ton at Bendigo; a draft of fat bullocks was worth a mine of gold at Ballarat, and, therefore, grass was everywhere precious. No wonder if the hardy bullock-driver became a cattle lifter after his team had been impounded by the station stockman when found only four hundred yards from the bush track. Money, in the shape of fat stock, was running loose, as it were, on every run, and why should not the sagacious Nosey do a little business when Baldy's fat sheep were tempting him, and a market for mutton could be found no farther away than the Nyalong butcher's shop.

Baldy left the township happier than usual, carrying under his arm two bottles of Old Tom. He was seen by a man who knew him entering the Rises, and going away in the direction of Nosey's hut, and then for fifteen years he was a lost shepherd. In course of time it was ascertained that he had called at Nosey's hut on his way home. He had the lost sheep on his mind, and he could not resist the impulse to have another word or two with Nosey about them. He put down the two bottles of gin outside the door of the hut, near an axe whose handle leaned against the wall. Nosey and his wife, Julia, were inside, and he bade them good evening. Then he took a piece of tobacco out of his pocket, and began cutting it with his knife. He always carried his knife tied to his belt by a string which went through a hole bored in the handle. It was a generally useful knife, and with it he foot-rotted sheep, stirred the tea in his billy, and cut beef and damper, sticks, and tobacco.

"I have been to Nyalong," he said, "and I heern something about my sheep; they went to the township all right, strayed away, you know, followed one another's tails, and never came back, the O. K. bullocks go just the same way. Curious, isn't it?"

Nosey listened with keen interest. "Well, Baldy," he said, "and what did you hear? Did you find out who took 'em?"

"Oh, yes," said Baldy; "I know pretty well all about 'em now, both sheep and bullocks. Old Sharp was right about the sheep, anyway. The thief is not far from the flock, and it's not me." Baldy was brewing mischief for himself, but he did not know how much.

"Did you tell the police about 'em?" asked Nosey.

"Oh, no, not to-day!" answered Baldy. "Time enough yet. I ain't in no hurry to be an informer."

Nosey eyed him with unusual savagery, and said:

"Now didn't I tell you to say no more about your blasted sheep, or I'd see you for it? and here you are again, and you can't leave 'em alone. You are no better than a fool."

"Maybe I am a fool, Nosey. Just wait till I get a light, and I'll leave your hut and trouble you no more."

He was standing in the middle of the floor cutting his tobacco, and rubbing it between the palms of his hands, shaking his head, and eyeing the floor with a look of great sagacity.

Nosey went outside, and began walking to and fro, thinking and whispering to himself. It was a habit he had acquired while slowly sauntering after his sheep. He seemed to have another self, an invisible companion with whom he discussed whatever was uppermost in his mind. If he had then consulted his other self, Julia, he might have saved himself a world of trouble; but he did not think of her. He said to himself: "Now, Nosey, if you don't mind, you are going to be in a hole. That old fool inside has found out something or other about the sheep, and the peelers will have you, if you don't look out, and they'll give you another seven years and maybe ten. You've done your time once, Nosey, and how would you like to do it again? Why couldn't you leave the cursed sheep alone and keep out of mischief just when you were settling down in life comfortable, and might have a chance to do better. Baldy will be telling the peelers to-morrow all he knows about the sheep you stole, and then they'll fetch you, sure. There's only one thing to stop the old fool's jaw, and you are not game to do it, Nosey; you never done a man yet, and you are not game to do it now, and you'll be damned if you do it, and the devil will have you, and you'll be hanged first maybe. And if you don't do him you'll be lagged again for the sheep, and in my opinion, Nosey, you are not game. Yes, by the powers, you are, Nosey, damned if you ain't. Who's afeered? And you'll do it quick -do it quick. Now or never's your time."

While talking thus to himself, Nosey was pacing to and fro, and he glanced at the axe every time he passed the door. The weapon was ready to his hand, and seemed to be inviting him to use it.

"Baldy is going to light his pipe, and while he is stooping to get a firestick, I'll do him with the axe."

When Baldy turned towards the fire, Nosey grasped the axe and held it behind him. He waited a moment, and then entered the hut; but Baldy either heard his step, or had some suspicion of danger, for he looked around before takingup a firestick. At that instant the blow, intended for the back of the head, struck him on the jaw, and he fell forward among the embers. For one brief moment of horror he must have realised that he was being murdered, and then another blow behind the head left him senseless.

Nosey dragged the body out of the fireplace into the middle of the floor, intending, while he was doing a man, to do him well. He raised the axe to finish his work with a third blow, but Julia gave a scream so piercing that his attention was diverted to her.

"Oh, Nosey," she said, "what are you doing to poor Baldy? You are murdering him."

Nosey turned to his wife with upraised axe.

"Hold your jaw, woman, and keep quiet, or I'll do as much for you."

She said no more. She was tall and stout, had small, sharp, roving eyes; and Nosey was a thick-set man, with a thin, prominent nose, sunken eyes, and overhanging brows. He never had a prepossessing appearance, and now his look and attitude were so ugly and fierce that the big woman was completely cowed. The pair stood still for some time, watching the last convulsive movements of the murdered Baldy.

Nosey could now pride himself on having been "game to do his man," but he could not feel much glory in his work just yet. He had done it without sufficient forethought, and his mind was soon full of trouble.

Murder was worse than sheep stealing, and the consequences of his new venture in crime began to crowd on his mind with frightful rapidity. He had not even thought of any plan for hiding away the corpse. He had no grave ready, and could not dig one anywhere in the neighbourhood. The whole of the country round his hut was rocky- little hills of bare bluestone boulders, and grassy hollows covered with only a few inches of soil-rocks everywhere, above ground and below. He could burn the body, but it would take a long time to do it well; somebody might come while he was at the work, and even the ashes might betray his secret. There were shallow lakes and swamps, but he could not put the corpse into any of them with safety: search would be made wherever there was water, on the supposition that Baldy had been drowned after drinking too freely of the gin he had brought from Nyalong, and if the body was found, the appearance of the skull would show that death had been caused, not by drowning, but by the blows of that cursed axe. Nosey began to lay all the blame on the axe, and said, "If it had not stood up so handy near the door, I wouldn't have killed the man."

It was the axe that tempted him. Excuses of that sort are of a very ancient date.

Luckily Nosey owned two horses, one of which was old and quiet. He told Julia to fasten the door, and to open it on no account whatever, while he went for the horse, which was feeding in the Rises hobbled, and with a bell tied round his neck. When he returned he saddled the animal, and Julia held the bridle while he went into the hut for the body. He observed Baldy's pipe on the floor near the fire-place, and he replaced it in the pocket in which it had been usually kept, as it might not be safe to leave anything in the hut belonging to the murdered man. There was a little blood on the floor, but he would scrape that off by daylight, and he would then also look at the axe and put away the two bottles of gin somewhere; he could do all that next morning before Baldy was missed. But the corpse must be taken away at once, for he felt that every minute of delay might endanger his neck. He dragged the body outside, and with Julia's help lifted it up and placed it across the saddle. Then he tried to steady his load with his