The Shadow of Larose

I—Red Death.-3

There was the soft and scented warmness of a perfect Australian summer night—the satin darkness shrouding the mighty distances of hill and valley that lay before me, and the loneliness and the mystery of it all.

Down the deserted highway the motor cycle sped like the projectile from a gun and the swift rushing through the air lulled my senses into the rapture of a beautiful dream.

And then when the moon rose and I glided through the little scattered hamlets, I was as if in a dead world. I saw no one and as far as I knew, no one saw me. I just passed, and was probably only a few discordant moments in the harmony of a thousand sleeps.

Dawn was just rising when I ran into Port Augusta at the head of the gulf. The motor bicycle had behaved beautifully, and I had covered the 200 and odd miles, with no hurry, in a little over six hours.

But I was not minded to stop yet. Speeding along, I had rearranged my plans. I had always wanted to visit Port Lincoln, and although this would be taking me away for the time from the Flinders Ranges, I thought it too good an opportunity to be missed. Port Lincoln was 206 mites down the other side of Spencer's Gulf, and it meant I knew a lonely ride nearly all the time. About midway I should meet the little township of Cowell, but in the 143 miles before I reached there, there would be no habitation of any kind. Just a long and lonely track winding, now through the mallee scrub, then over the desert sands, and then again among the saltbush that for miles and miles would stretch like a never ending sea, half knee-high.

For three hours after leaving Port Augusta I rode very slowly, and then, when fifty-three miles away I came upon right and left divergences from the main track with a sign post pointing to the port of Whyalla in one direction and to the mining town of Iron Knob in the other. The distances were sixteen miles to each place.

The configuration of the country began to change here and the mallee scrub rose now on either side to the height of small trees.

I rode on further for a short distance and then suddenly realised that I was both hungry and sleepy. So I turned off for about fifty yards into the mallee, and making a small fire, grilled myself a couple of chops. Then finding a clear space and making sure there were no snakes about, I folded my blanket for a pillow and lay down in the shade for a good sleep.

I dropped off at once and slept deeply and refreshingly until past two o'clock, and should not probably even have awakened then, if some crows had not found me out. Their raucous cries broke in inharmoniously upon my dreams. There were quite a number of the wretched birds perched on the bushes around, and it was obvious that they were all acutely interested in the condition of my health. They peeked their little beady eyes inquisitively at me when I stood up, but when I threw some sticks at them, they rose up screeching and after some reluctant circling round flew disgustedly away.

I soon packed up and by half-past two had taken to the track again, but trouble came to me all at once and before even I had gone a hundred yards my engine began to misfire badly and finally to completely peter out.

I found I had got a short circuit, and not only that, but one of the oil pipes was blocked. It was a long and messy job putting things right, and my hands were in a fine state when I had done. I had just finished when I heard a distant rumbling of a car, and a couple of minutes later, a motor lorry passed me coming from the direction of Port Augusta, it was a builder's lorry, carrying ladders, and pails and pots of paint. There were two men sitting behind, and they waved their hands as they passed.

Then, not a minute after, and, indeed, before I had finished wiping my hands in the sand, another car came by from the opposite direction. It was a touring one this time, and it was going at a moderate pace. A big red-faced man was driving, and he was smoking a cigar. There were two other passengers on the back seat, and the hood and side curtains were up.

As it passed I got a strong whiff of petrol. "Pugh!" I ejaculated, "they've got a leak somewhere." and my eyes followed interestedly until the car had disappeared round a bend through the scrub.

I jumped on my motor bike again, and started off in the direction of Port Lincoln, but fifty yards was the utmost it carried me before it again stopped abruptly in its tracks.

With a sigh of resignation, I got off to find speedily that this last trouble was beyond immediate remedy. I was faced with one of the worst things that could have happened in such a lonely place. The head of the valve had broken off.

Grimacing philosophically, I sat down and considered matters.

I was helpless, almost midway between Port Augusta and Cowell, with fifty and odd miles to go, either way. It was nearly four o'clock, and it was quite possible that no more cars might pass that afternoon. There was never much traffic along the track, I knew, for the Gulf towns were served mostly by the steamers that ply up and down.

Then, again, unless another motor lorry happened to pass, my position would not be much better. An ordinary car would not certainly be able to take on board a heavy motor cycle.

So I quickly decided to leave the machine somewhere in the bush, and wait my chance to be picked up by a motor car going to Port Augusta. I could get a new valve in the town there, and return at my leisure to make the bike serviceable again. At any rate, I comforted myself I was in no hurry, and, after all camping in the wilds was what I had intended my holiday should be. So I wheeled the motor cycle into the mallee scrub, and then, when about a hundred yards off the track, propped it up under a big bush that would provide a certain amount of shelter if any rain fell. I was confident that no one would interfere with it in so lonely a spot, and that, however long I might leave it, it would be quite all right.

Prepared then for a night in the bush, I packed all my camping requisites in the blanket and strapped it like a knapsack across my shoulders. My little .22 rifle I kept out, and carried in my hand.

I was just leaving the place when I noticed a quite recent snake trail in the sand, and instantly was thrilled with the prospect of reptilian sudden death.

No good Australian ever misses the opportunity of killing a snake, and quickly filling the magazine of my rifle, I picked up a stick and set off to follow the markings in the sand.

But they went quite a long way, and it was a good hundred yards before I came upon the snake sunning himself in a little open space. I walked up very quietly, and then just when he was preparing to glide off. I popped him one on the back, and it was all over. Snakes are the easiest creatures in the world to kill, and unless they are trodden upon accidentally, or are cornered, their only thought is to get away.

He was a big black fellow, this one I had killed, with a vividly red belly, and after I had well and truly bashed his head in to make sure that he was dead, I curled him artistically round one of a line of wooden posts that had evidently at one time marked the boundary of some sheep station.

I little thought then what good service this simple action was to do me in a few weeks' time.

I had just finished dealing with the snake and was congratulating myself upon what a good deed I had done, when, turning to get back on to the track again. I suddenly heard voices.

My legs were galvanized instantly into quick action, and in a few seconds I was almost out on to the track again, when in a flash, I brought myself to a stand, and stood stock still, staring between the branches of a thick bush.

The touring car that had recently passed me and that had smelt strongly of petrol, was now standing stationary not fifty yards away. There had been an accident, undoubtedly, for it was half slewed round across the track, and its radiator was rammed up close against a tree. Also, it had got a bad list to one side. Its three passengers were out upon the track behind it, and one of them was kneeling down and peering under the chassis. He was turned sideways to me, and I recognised him instantly as the man who had been driving.

But what made me suddenly stand still and froze me in my tracks, were the sinister actions of his companions close behind him. Standing with their heads near together, they yet seemed to be speaking to one another by signs. One pointed to the kneeling man, and then they both looked quickly round and stared intently up and down the track as if to see if they were being observed. One of them was dressed in a light suit, and what struck me about the other was that he was slight in build, with the trim figure of an athlete. He was wearing his coat tightly buttoned up across the chest.

All this I took in in a lightning glance, but in some way so impressed was I, that for many haunting weeks afterwards every little trivial incident of the whole scene was seared upon my mind.

Suddenly then, the man in the light suit stealthily bent down and picked up a big jack that was lying on the sand, then quick as the eye could follow, he aimed a fierce blow at the head of the man who was kneeling behind the car. But the latter rose at the exact moment and the heavy jack missed his head and fell upon the shoulder instead. He uttered a sharp cry, and, although reeling under the blow, turned and made a quick movement to rise to his feet, but the athletic-looking man darted in and struck him a terrific blow in the face, with a spanner that I now saw he had been holding in his hand. Then the dreadful jack descended again, once, twice, and I almost thought I heard it breaking into the poor wretch's skull.

Then the two men stood motionless over the prostrate figure, and I could see the face of the man in the light suit like a white patch against the blackness of the back of the car.

The athletic-looking man then made a sign with his hand, and his companion, throwing down his jack, began roughly to rifle the body.

He tore a thick wallet from somewhere, and, after a short argument with his companion, thrust it in his own pocket.

Then the two stood talking vehemently together, both of them the whole time glancing apprehensively up and down the track. They seemed uncertain what next to do. It appeared to me that the man in the white suit wanted to make off straight away, but his companion held him by the sleeve as if he were insisting upon a different course of action.

Finally they appeared to agree and, dragging the body round to the side of the car, they lumped it on to the driver's seat and banged to the door. Then they both leant down under the back of the car, and I heard the sound of knocking. In a moment they both sprang up quickly again and stood well away from the car. One of them then struck a match and threw it on to the ground. There was a flash, and a broad flame leapt up and began to lick round the back of the car. I realised instantly what they had done. They had opened the petrol tank in order to burn up the car.

They waited a few seconds, and then, seeing the flames had apparently got a good hold, as if all their plans were now cut and dried, they nodded excitedly to one another and ran quickly into the scrub, with each one, however, going off in a different direction.

The man in the light suit ran west in the direction of the township of Iron Knob, whilst his companion ran east in the direction of the Port of Whyalla.

And all this while I had stood still as if turned to stone. Everything had followed so quickly and had been of so astounding a nature that, from no sense of cowardice, I had been too astonished to act.

But with the running off of the two men the spell was broken, and with no further hesitation I rushed forward intending to try and put out the flames. The man who had been so ruthlessly thrust inside the car might not yet be dead, and, if so, he was now being burnt alive.

And then—the totally unexpected happened. Before even I had got half-way towards the car the flames suddenly died right away, there was the sound of a dull explosion, and the back of the petrol tank blew out.

"Ah," I exclaimed in excitement, "the tank was almost empty. The petrol has been leaking away, and that was why I smelt it as the car passed."

With my heart thumping hard, I ran up and pulled open the door of the car, but it required no second glance to see that its occupant was dead. The injuries to his head were horrible, and his death must have been quite instantaneous. His features were completely obscured in his blood.

A fearful rage surged through me, and with an oath upon my lips I turned into the scrub and tore after the man in the light suit.