CHAPTER EIGHT

The Second Day

They didn’t rush on the second day of their journey but just plodded along in the horse-drawn wagon, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the bush.

‘Are the Blue Mountains really blue?’ Howie was curious to know more about his destination.

‘Not close up, they aren’t. But from a distance they look blue because of a blue haze created by vapours from the eucalyptus leaves.’

Howie looked at Joe admiringly. He seemed to know the answers to everything!

On reaching a small billabong, they decided to stop for a while and let the horse graze amongst the lush, green grass. The water was so cool and crystal clear and the afternoon sun so hot, they soon gave up any idea of travelling further that day and spent a lazy afternoon swimming in the waterhole and resting in the shade of the coolabah trees.

As the sun began to sink in the west, the two companions climbed to the top of a nearby hill and watched it slowly disappear, the fading red light making the mountains seem more majestic and mysterious than ever.

Joe finally broke the silence. ‘All that swimming made me hungry. What about you?’

Howie nodded. He was always hungry. ‘Let’s head back to camp.’

‘It looks like there’s only baked beans and fruitcake,’ said Joe, rummaging through the food basket. ‘I wish we’d managed to catch a fish or two. Never mind … we’ll just have to make do.’

Joe’s horse, grazing near the water’s edge suddenly snorted, pricked up its ears and neighed loudly.

‘What’s up, old fellow?’ asked Joe, strolling over to check. ‘Has something spooked you, or what?’

The horse whinnied, shook its head from side to side and pawed at the ground. Probably a goanna or a snake has frightened him, thought Joe. But then he noticed a light, a little way off through the trees. He decided to investigate and suggested Howie should follow, but remain hidden just in case.

As they got closer to the source of the light, Joe could see a campfire. Then he heard music—someone playing a lively tune on a mouth organ. The delicious aroma of cooked lamb wafted tantalisingly through the soft night air, making Joe’s stomach rumble loudly and his mouth water at the thought of sinking his teeth into a tasty chunk of lamb. He was suddenly ravenous!

As he stepped into the clearing, Joe was met with a warm greeting from an old swagman, bent over the fire.

‘G’day mate,’ said the stranger. ‘I noticed your camp a bit earlier and I was hoping you’d join me for tea. As you can see, I’ve got plenty of tucker and I’d enjoy the company.’

Joe looked around. He could see the remains of a sheep the swaggie had killed and was now in the process of cooking. After yesterday’s experience, Joe was very suspicious of strangers, but his hunger was overwhelming. The thought of their meagre ration of baked beans was less and less appealing. He was about to accept when he suddenly remembered Howie.

It was as if the swaggie could read Joe’s mind. The old man grinned. ‘You can tell your Yowie mate in the scrub that he can come on over too—tell him, I won’t bite!’

At this, Howie emerged rather sheepishly from the bushes and joined them around the campfire.

Introductions were made and the three sat down to a hearty meal. There were more than enough vegetables to satisfy a vegetarian like Howie. His plate was heaped with carrots, potatoes and cabbage, all covered in a rich, thick onion gravy. Joe was more than happy to eat Howie’s portion of meat and he polished off eight lamb chops quite easily. Next came dessert—some kind of boiled fruit pudding—and to finish up, huge slabs of fresh damper with golden syrup. They washed this banquet down with several mugs of strong, hot tea and lay there for some time, feeling too full to move.

Joe burped contentedly and patted his stomach.

‘Thanks, mate,’ he said to the swaggie. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for a week after that! It was the best meal I’ve had for a while, and I bet it’ll be a long time before I have another like it.’

It was a perfect night, they all agreed. There was a full moon and the sky was cloudless, the stars so bright, there was no need for a lantern as they went down to the water’s edge to rinse their plates and mugs. The scene was incredibly peaceful.

Without any warning, however, this suddenly changed.

From out of nowhere, four riders on large black steeds appeared, thundering towards them as if determined to run them down. Howie and Joe jumped out of the way but the swagman, not fast enough, was knocked flying. He got up quickly, though, and tried to run. Shots were fired. The horses reared up, pawing at the sky, their nostrils flaring and eyes flashing; their loud snorts and whinnies adding to the general noise and confusion.

The lead rider jumped from his horse. He was a farmer of sorts; probably a squatter, thought Joe, and most likely the owner of the sheep they had just eaten. The other three riders were police troopers.

Shouts of ‘Get him!’ and ‘Surrender, or I’ll shoot!’ filled the air. The squatter lunged at the swagman who was attempting to flee and tackled him to the ground. The troopers joined in. They attacked the old man, kicking and beating him viciously with their batons.

‘That’ll teach you to steal my sheep!’ cried the squatter.

Joe was outraged. No one deserved this kind of treatment—even if they had stolen a sheep. And why should someone as rich as this squatter deny a poor old swagman a feed? Besides, reasoned Joe, if it came to that, he himself was equally to blame. He had been more than happy to polish off those lamb chops.

These were the thoughts that persuaded Joe and Howie to join in the fight, and soon it was a free-for-all with blows and fists flying in every direction. More shots were fired. A bullet whistled past Joe’s head, barely missing his ear. He turned just in time to see Howie grab the rifle and throw it into the billabong. Joe lunged at one of the troopers and pulled him off the helpless swagman, giving him time to escape and head for the water. Another shot rang out. The terrified swagman kept going—half swimming, half wading—out into the middle of the billabong, where he suddenly vanished.

Everything suddenly became deathly still. A heavy mist descended, enveloping the area around the billabong in a thick, grey blanket of fog.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the mist cleared—leaving no trace of the squatter, the troopers or their horses, who seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

Neither Joe nor Howie had time to think about this. They dived into the water and swam out to where the swagman had last been seen, in a vain attempt to rescue him. They searched and searched and though the water was clear and not particularly deep, there was no sign at all of the friendly old swaggie.

The stars had lost their brilliance and a shadow dimmed the moon by the time the two friends finally gave up the search. As they staggered back, dripping wet and shivering with cold, Joe and Howie were alarmed and bewildered to find that not a single trace of the swaggie’s campfire remained. Everything (including the remains of the half-eaten sheep) had vanished. There was nothing left to show that the old man had ever existed, much less been attacked by four men on horseback. In fact, there was no sign of any kind of disturbance at all.

The billabong had now become an eerie, terrifying place for the two travellers. Completely mystified and more than a little frightened, Joe and Howie hurried back to their wagon.

They had almost finished packing up when they heard something—the sound of singing. It was the same tune they’d heard earlier in the evening. It made their blood run cold and their hair stand on end to hear that melody once again.

Howie listened intently, trying hard to make out the words of the song.

‘It seems to be about dancing,’ he said, straining his ears to catch the words.

‘Something about Matilda and who’ll come a-waltzing. What on earth do you think that means, Joe?’

‘I’ve no idea. And I’ve certainly no wish to find out. This place is giving me the creeps.’

It was time to get away, and fast! Throwing their remaining belongings into the wagon, they jumped on and sped away into the night, anxious to get away from the scene. There was no way they would stay in that haunted place a moment longer.