Secrets of Ind
AFTER DINNER that evening Bony wandered down the creek to the blacks’ camp, which he found partially deserted, many of the tribe having gone hunting. Several gins vanished inside their rude humpies (huts) at sight of him, and one of them was Runta, apparently fearful that Bony might be suffering from his “sometime now” malady. Gunda, however, came to meet him, and her not bad-looking face betokened curiosity.
“Well, Gunda, ole Moongalliti bad, eh?”Bony said.
“Him plurry crook,” wasGunda’s emphatic answer.
“What’s the matter with him?”
“Him all bad here,” Gunda explained, pressing her hands to that part of her body below her waist; then added naively: “But bimeby him all right. Blackfeller come long way. Ole feller Illawalli, him make Moongalliti good soon.”
“Ah, take me to Moongalliti, Gunda.”
The chief was lying on some old chaff-bags spread out beneath a box-tree; he was groaning deeply and writhing in quite an alarming fashion. Noonee, the mother of Ludbi, was seated at his feet, her body rocking from side to side, and from her lips proceeding long, high-pitched, doleful wails. At Moongalliti’s head was seated a tall, marvellously emaciated patriarch with snow-white hair and a white beard fully a yard long. This person was dressed in new cheap shop-made clothes, which Bony instantly guessed had been provided by the police before he was forwarded on his long journey south. Seeing Bony approach, Illawalli jumped to his feet with astonishing agility and ran to Bony with a joyful yell. His trouser-encased long legs, the light brown jacket, and the pink kerchief about his neck reminded Bony of the time, longgone, when he and several other boys had dressed an emu in an old suit of clothes and let it go.
“Bony! Bony, my son and my father!” Illawalli shouted, and reaching out his skinny arms he clasped the half-caste in an affectionate hug. The warmth of his greeting recompensed the detective for the odour-not of sanctity-the old man emitted, and behind his keen black eyes he saw a hint of amusement which flashed now and then, as though some stupendous joke rivalled the affection. And while Illawalli hugged he said softly:
“Ah, Bony, you want me, eh? You sent police, eh? You ’member ole Illawalli tell you him son and his father. I come! I come on the horse that goes on wheels and I rode on the emu that flies.”
“Were you not afraid, Illawalli?”
“Ya-as. Then I not ’member it. Oh, Bony, Ilaff and Ilaff, ’way up there. I look and see clouds from top.”
“Well, well! You’re a lucky man. Now let us see what’s wrong with Moongalliti.”
“Him all right. Igibbit him blackfeller’s dope make ’imcrook; then Igibbit ’imwhitefeller’sdope make ’imwell. Me great manNor ’ Queensland; now me fine fellerNoo South Wales.”
“Why did you do that?” Bony asked curiously.
“Well, you see, like this. Moongalliti not like poor ole Illawalli. Him thinkI’se be chief here. So I put stomachdebil in ’imtucker; then ’e sing out loud and I fix ’imup. Him all right bimeby.”
Now with gentle firmness Bony put his friend from him, and together they went to the recumbent Moongalliti, who had ceased his groaning and was regarding them with unfeigned interest. Bony seated himself beside him and, taking up one thin wrist, felt the pulse. It was almost normal.
“Bad! Me bin plurry bad,” said the patient shakily.
“You beeneating too much,” Bony told him sternly.
“Naw.”
“Yes, you have. You eat nothing till to-morrow, or you get bad again. You nearly die.” The old gin began to wail louder than ever. “Illawalli, him fine doctor. Hemake you well. Good feller, Illawalli.”
“My plurry oath,” agreed Moongalliti, sitting up. Then with startling suddenness he yelled to the gin: “You’mshut up! Wa ’ for youmake that row?”
Almost as old as Moongalliti, the woman’s fat and ugly face brightened at the now normal tone of her husband. Her black eyes glistened, and about her mouthdawned a tender smile that fascinated Bony’s attention. Moongalliti also saw her expression of tender affection for him; but he was a man, and men must not be weak with women. There was a heavy waddy within his reach, and Bony caught his arm just in time to prevent its being hurled at the wife. Hastily she arose and fled.
“Do you feel stomach-debilnow?” Bony inquired seriously.
“Naw. He bin almost dead.”
“Just so. Almost dead, but he may come to life again,” the half-caste warned the chief. “You goslow now. Don’t you getup. Illawalli and I go hunting for tree-leaf which will kill yourdebil for ever. Now, hear! Don’t get up!”
“Orlright, Bony,” Moongalliti promised, memory of the recent pains still vivid. Then he clasped Bony’s hand in his saying: “You good feller, Bony. You good feller, Illawalli.”
Illawalli grunted. He and Bony got to their feet and strolled off down the creek whilst the box-tree leaves glittered as flakes of gold in the setting sun. They had walked nearly half a mile, and, arriving at the ironstone hillock crowned by the ancient and mysterious pavement of rock squares, they seated themselves at its base and made preparations to smoke. All round them rabbits fed on fallen leaves and scratched small holes in search of grass-roots, and from out its holecrawled a gigantic monarch goanna, six feet in length, moving slowly with deceptive sluggishness.
In the vernacular Bony related to his companion the mystery of Marks’s disappearance, described the blackfellow’s sign, and told what he had learned from Runta.
“Ole Moongalliti, him cunning feller,” Bony went on. “Ludbi, his son, told him he saw a car come through the bush with this whitefeller, Marks, fighting with another whitefeller. I believe Ludbi told Moongalliti who killed Marks and how, and Moongalliti threatens the pointing-bone to any one of his tribe who says a word about it.”
“What-it whitefellergotta do blackfeller?” the ancient asked, intelligently placing his finger on the crux of the affair.
“That’s what I can’t understand,” Bony admitted.“Me good friends with Moongalliti.” He whispered three words, and Illawalli’s eyes gleamed with aroused interest. “No good to me hetell me on sign of the moon. Then I can no tell no one. He not see sign on your back same as me. You read his spirit-mind, Illawalli, and what you read you tell-it me, eh?”
For a little while the old man made no reply. His seamed face was as that of some ugly heathen god, but, whereas the god expresses evil, there was in the face of Illawalli a look of placid benevolence. “Me grow old,” he said at last. “P’r’apsme can’t look into Moongalliti’s spirit. You one plurry fool, Bony. ’Member me wanted teach you how to look in men’sspirits? Mine father learned me, an’ my father’s father learned ’im, an’ ’is father learned my father’s father. From the land of Ind, before the waters rose an’ made this landroun ’ as is the sun, came the secrets my father learned me. Noson have I to pass on the power. You are my son and my father, Bony, and you will have none of it.”
The half-caste sighed. Illawalli’s hypnotic power was stupendous. Twice had Bony experienced it, and gladly would he have become possessed of the power had there been any other than the precise condition accompanying the offer. In his profession the secrets of the art, handed down through countless generations to Illawalli, would have been of inestimable value; but the condition on which the old man insisted in return for the knowledge was that Bony should forsake the white man’s civilization and become chief of Illawalli’s tribe when the latter died. And that was a condition Bony felt he could never accept. It would mean surrendering all the interests in life which the white man’s education had given.
“It cannot be, Illawalli,” he said a little sadly. “Yet do as I ask. for I have had you carried on the emu’s back that you might do it.”
“Have no fear, Bony. As the missionary at Burke turns the leaves of his book and reads the signs therein, so will I read the pictures in the mind ofMoongalliti. Say, now, am I getting old?”
Bony was idly watching the goanna waddling over the ground, its gait belying its tremendous speed when hard pressed by a dog. Idly, his mind occupied by the possibilities of Illawalli’s power, could he but possess it without the damning condition, he watched it make a small circle, then stand still for a second before raising itself on stiffened legs and swelling out its neck to an alarming thickness.
A rabbit drew near and crouched down facing the goanna. Another joined it, also crouching and looking into the bright eyes of the reptile. Then at short intervals other rabbits came and gazed at the goanna till presently there was a complete ring about it. Rabbits were scurrying towards the reptile, and after a little while a second ring was formed outside the first. When that was completed a third ring was formed, and yet a fourth, a fifth, sixth, and seventh. Seven rings of greyfur, and in the centre the motionless, evil-looking, gigantic lizard.
Seven perfect circles, one within the other! Bony watched, and saw possibly a thousand rabbits move as one, so that they sat up on their hind legs. As one, that host of rabbits bowed in deep obeisance to the monarch seven times. At this point remembrance came to Bony and he laughed. He realized that Illawalli was hypnotizing him. Yet knowing it, quite aware that what he saw did not really exist, nevertheless he continued to see it as plainly as though it did exist. In spite of what he knew, he plainly witnessed the rabbits disperse as they had formed the circles, and when the last had gone he watched the swelling of the reptile’s neck subside, saw the long grey-green body sink nearer to the ground, then proceed on its way.
“You are yet strong in spirit,” he said, chuckling.
“You say to yourself that ole Illawalli is a great man,” the ancient countered.
“I did,” Bony admitted. “There is nothing hidden from you, O reader of men’s minds! Come, let us go back, and you read me the mind of Moongalliti.”
They arose and walked to the camp in the quiet stillness of the new-born night. Arrived at the camp, they found that the hunters had all returned and were eating in the light of several large communal fires. When they joined Moongalliti, Illawalli handed to him a few berries from a box-tree, after he had made many mystic signs over them. And Moongalliti took them and chewed, and because he was given faith he was cured.
The three sat alone and maintained a long silence. About them the tribe ate or wrangled or conversed with much laughter. The wrangling was only sporadic, the laughter continuous. Children chattered and shrieked, dogs yelped and growled over titbits tossed to them, and the scene was lit by the glowing fires that tipped the tree-leaves with scarlet and put out the stars above.
Bony broke the silence that had settled about him and his two companions. He said to Illawalli:
“You ’member Arney? He killed a blackfeller near Camooweal little time ago. Black trackers caught him on the Diamantina, and when a white policeman was taking him back to Camooweal in a motor-car he escaped.”
“Ah!” Illawalli sighed non-committally, for he had never heard of Arney.
“Yes. On the way Arney attacked the policeman who was driving the car, nearly killed him, and escaped. They haven’t caught him yet.”
“Ah!” Illawalli said for the second time, but there was something very significant in the sound of this second “Ah”. Bony felt satisfied. He knew then that the fictitious story regarding Arney and the policeman fighting in the motor-car had brought to the surface of Moongalliti’s mind the story told by Ludbi. And, having set memory going as a wound-up clock, Bony fell into silence again. Moongalliti did not speak; he was making a cigarette, and whilst he made the cigarette Illawalli was reading his thoughts as one reads the printed page. A minute elapsed. Then Illawalli sighed as though he awoke from a long sleep. His forehead was damp with perspiration, and he rubbed his hands as though they were cold. When he looked at Bony, the half-caste saw in his parchment-like face the faint light of triumph.