Mad Dog Morgan’s Ghost
John Delaney on a rare occasion thought a few refreshments at the Station
Hotel might do him the world of good.
John had been feeling rather depressed most of the afternoon after his
uncharacteristic outburst with his grandsons, and Michael bore heavily on his
mind.
‘Go ahead, John,’ Agnes urged him. ‘You put in such long hours on
the farm; you deserve a bit of relaxation.’
He smiled at her appreciatively, and then brightened as his youngest son
came in the door, arms laden with firewood. ‘Andrew, do you fancy a drink,
lad? I’m going down to the pub for a bit of a tipple.’
He didn’t have to ask twice; Andrew was by his side within seconds,
sporting a grin from ear to ear. ‘Well, don’t just stand there -- let’s
get the horses saddled.’
On their walk up to the stables, John had noticed that Agnes had
forgotten to bring in the bed sheets she had hung out earlier that afternoon.
Under normal circumstances he would have taken them down and returned them to
the house, but he was in a hurry to get to the pub; he could always bring them
in before he went to bed.
Once at the stables, John passed Michael’s ten-year-old stallion Buck
and realised the horse had not been worked since Michael went away.
‘Okay, old boy, don’t look at me like that! Do you feel like a trip
into town?’
Andrew turned around sharply. ‘Father, are you joking? You know what
he’s like. Michael’s the only one who can handle him.’
Michael had owned the black stallion since it was a colt. He named him
Buck because he had a habit of bucking whenever the spurs were applied. Michael
found this out the hard way on many occasions, and decided he and Buck would get
on just fine without them.
‘Son, there’s not a horse in these parts that I can’t handle,’
John said. ‘Who do you think taught you kids to ride?’
Refusing to hear any more of it, John saddled up the black stallion, and
he and Andrew were shortly on their way into town.
When they arrived, they could hear the jumbled talk and laughter of the
crowd inside the pub. Loud noise blasted out of the windows as the customers,
desperate to forget about the war if only for an hour, sang along to the sounds
of a Pianola playing a lively tune. It was Saturday night and Wangaratta had definitely come alive. Most of these men
John had known since childhood, for very few families moved away once they had
settled in this beautiful country. The Ovens River flowed faithfully past their
back door, and the green pastures spanned out like water in this north-eastern
part of Victoria. Their families had been here for years, just like John’s,
and were proud to call this country their own.
John and Andrew weaved their way through the smoke-filled room,
acknowledging friends as they made their way to the bar to order two whiskies.
Andrew drifted off to catch up with a couple of his mates, while John quietly
sipped his whiskey at the bar. He was about to take another sip, when he caught
sight of a tall man sitting by himself in the far corner. He wore a bushman’s
beard and a stockman’s heavy coat that looked like it had seen more than its
fair share of wear, whilst around his throat he wore a red patterned
neckerchief.
He was dressed like any other stockman that regularly came through town,
but there was something about his face that was very familiar, especially his
piercing eyes and those dark thick eyebrows. John was about to lift the glass to
his mouth one more time when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and a rough
loud voice echoed in his ear.
‘Men first, dogs last.’
A chill shot down John’s back. He had heard those words before, many
years ago, and the memories came flooding back. Andrew, on hearing this, was
about to come to his father’s aid, until the stranger roared with laughter.
‘John Delaney, how many years has it been since I saw you last!’
‘Not long enough,’ John thought to himself.
The man he was talking to be none other than Isaiah Wright, otherwise
known as Wild Wright, and the bushy-browed face in the corner belonged to Jim
Kelly, Ned Kelly’s brother.
‘I’ve seen you in town a couple of times when I was passing through,
John, but by the time I got off my horse you were gone.’
John had seen Wild too, and it was by no accident that John would
make himself scarce.
Wherever Wild Wright turned up, trouble was soon to follow, and John
wanted to leave the past far behind. Jim and Wild had been in trouble with the
police in their younger days, and had certainly spent more than their fair share
of time in the confines of her majesty’s public accommodation. From what John
had heard from old friends, Jim Kelly was caring for his aged mother and was
living a quiet and peaceful life, but was not quite so sure about Wild. John
spotted another person keeping a close eye on Jim and Wild: the local police
sergeant, Albert Rawlings, who was sitting in the corner trying to look as
unobtrusive as possible.
John was curious. ‘What are you doing in these parts, Wild? I heard you
had gone to Queensland.’
‘I did,’ Wild replied with a loud laugh, ‘but I’m back now, and
Jim and me is moving thirty horses down to Mansfield for some rich bugger.’
Jim Kelly got up from his table and walked over to the bar. He had a
couple of quiet words with Wild,acknowledged John, and soon – to John’s
relief – both were disappearing out the door.
John could not help but wonder; knowing the somewhat tainted reputation
of Wild Wright, if the horses were stolen or not.
‘Who were those two coves, dad?’ asked Andrew.
‘Oh, just some people I knew many years ago, son, but it’s of no
concern, let’s have another drink.’ John needed
another drink to settle his nerves. They were the last two people in the world
he wanted to run into tonight, especially while he was in the company of his
youngest son.
An hour or so later, after indulging in far more drinks than they should
have, John and Andrew rode unsteadily home, all filled with song and very
inebriated.
It was now half past eight, and Catherine was sound asleep in her bed,
believing in all good faith that her two sons slept as soundly as she. Joseph
and Daniel, however, were skulking cautiously across the paddock towards their
grandfather’s shed. The moon was full that night, and the breeze blowing in
from the west was freezing cold. They could hardly wait to get into the confines
of the shed and out of the night air. Joseph lit the kerosene lantern, and the
boys soon had the satchel out of the drawer and began going through the papers
once more. Daniel, who had the attention span of a hummingbird, again picked up
the old revolver, which seemed to hold more interest for him than a pile of old
papers. The map on the other hand was getting all of Joseph’s
attention.
‘Stop playing with that damned gun, Danny, and help me work out what
this map is all about. I’m almost sure it’s a map of this area; some of the
names look familiar.’
Daniel wasn’t interested and continued to fiddle with the revolver.
While
the two boys were busy in the shed, John
and Andrew were now making their way slowly past the side of the house and up
the dirt track leading to the stable, still in a very sorry state.
‘Father!’ cried Andrew.
‘Look, there’s someone in the old tool shed! I can see a light shining in
the window.’
John saw the light too, and
not conscious of his inebriated state, dug the heels sharply into Buck’s
flanks. The black stallion took off like the wind, kicking and bucking and
heading straight for Agnes’s bed sheets. John held on for dear life as he
could feel the bed sheet wrapping itself around his panic-stricken frame. Andrew
hit the clothesline as well, toppled from his saddle and landed squarely on his
back. Slowly struggling to his feet, all he could see in the full moonlight was
his father hanging on for dear life, bucking and kicking his way across the
paddock, screaming untold profanities while wrapped in what looked like a
shroud.
On hearing the bloodcurdling
screams coming from the paddock, the boys rushed to the open door of the shed
and saw the ghostly apparition in the moonlight. Their legs turned to jelly.
Daniel screamed at the top
of his lungs in sheer terror. ‘It’s the headless body of Mad Dog Morgan. Run
for your life, Joe, he’s after our heads!’
While making his escape from
the clutches of Mad Dog Morgan, and to keep his young head squarely on his
shoulders, Daniel, in his instinctive quest for self-preservation, knocked over
the kerosene lantern and instantly set the shed alight. By the time the boys had
reached the house and tumbled into their bedroom window, the silhouette of Mad
Dog Morgan falling from his horse could be seen against the light of the now
blazing shed.
The screams and cursing of
one very confused John Delaney had brought Agnes and Catherine rushing towards
the fire. Andrew, in the meantime, grabbed buckets from the stable and
frantically filled them from the troughs. John staggered to his feet and finally
freed himself from the tangled bed sheet. ‘Don’t let the flames get near the
stable!’ he shouted desperately as he staggered to grab the nearest bucket.
For the next three hours
John, Agnes, Andrew and Catherine relayed the buckets of water onto the fire
until it was finally extinguished. It was after midnight, and all that remained
of the shed was nothing but smoldering ruins.
‘Who on earth was in the
shed this time of night,’ yelled John angrily, ‘and what the blazes were
they doing in there anyway?’
To that, no one had an
answer. Agnes went back to the house and started boiling the water for a cup of
tea while John and Andrew settled the horses. Catherine in the meantime had gone
home to check on her sleeping boys. She quietly opened their bedroom door and
poked her head in for a look. Her two angels were under their bedclothes and
fast asleep; everything seemed normal, except the room had a strange smell about
it -- something very much like that of kerosene, she thought.
Pulling back the bedclothes
slowly, she could see that Daniel and Joseph were still fully dressed but fast
asleep. It didn’t take her long to realise who was in the shed, and who was
responsible for the fire that had destroyed it and nearly burnt the stable down
to boot. Catherine thought for a moment, and then decided to let them sleep; it
was past midnight, and waking them now would not serve any purpose. She knew
full well the Church service would be starting promptly at seven o‘clock, and
that Father O’Donahue had little forgiveness for any of those unrighteous
latecomers.
Joseph and Daniel woke early
and peered sheepishly out of the bedroom window; their eyes straining to pierce
the morning darkness. What they saw drained the blood from their faces. All that
remained of their grandfather’s shed was the glow from the still-smoldering
embers.
‘Danny, you are really in
for it this time,’ Joe said.
‘Me? Why me? It was your
idea to go back to the shed last night.’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t the
one who knocked the kerosene lamp over,’ replied Joseph self-righteously.
Daniel was starting to think he really was the sole person responsible, until he
realised the blame really lay with Mad Dog Morgan’s headless corpse. He had a
feeling that might be a little too hard to explain, though.
The two boys weren’t the
only ones up early that Sunday morning. Catherine was standing outside their
door and listening to every word they said. She tiptoed back to the kitchen, and
returned with a step that would have woken the dead. She pushed the door open so
quickly; the boys’ had no chance to make it back to their beds.
‘Right, you two, get those
filthy clothes off, and get yourselves cleaned up and dressed for church.’
‘But mother, it’s only
five o’clock in the morning! Why do we have to leave so early?’ moaned
Joseph.
‘Oh, sorry, I forgot to
tell you, you have an appointment with your grandfather before you go to church
to discuss with him the burning down of his tool shed.’
They looked at their mother
with mouths wide open and realised the game was up. They also realised they
would be better off facing Mad Dog Morgan’s headless corpse than to face their
grandfather’s wrath.
It was now six o’clock and
the time for judgement had arrived. The two brothers, dressed in their Sunday
best, were pushed firmly out the front door by their mother and marched down
that seemingly endless path to their grandfather’s house.
Joseph leaned over and
whispered into Daniel’s ear, ‘Just remember, you were the one who knocked
over the lamp.’
Daniel kept his eyes focused
on their grandfather‘s house, which he thought was approaching far too quickly
for his own liking, and didn’t say a word.
Joseph was starting to get a
little worried about the silent nature of his young brother; it was not like
Daniel to be this quiet. ‘You’re up to something Daniel, and I want to know
what it is.’
Daniel still would not utter
a word, and continued to look straight ahead. By the time the boys had reached
the kitchen door of their grandparents, Joseph was in a terrible mess; the sweat
was running down his face profusely, and his complexion had taken on a colour
similar to that of a carrot. Joseph tapped lightly on the door trying hard not
to disturb any soul inside, but to his amazement, his ever-vigilant grandmother
answered the almost inaudible tap immediately.
Agnes had been watching the
boys through her kitchen window from the moment they had left their front door
and could not help but feel sorry for them; after all, John was going to knock
down the old shed and build a new one anyway, and the boys had actually, in a
rather strange way, done him a favour. But John was going to keep that to
himself, at least for the time being.
With their hearts now
replacing their Adam’s apples, Daniel and Joseph were guided into the living
room and told to wait.
‘Your grandfather will be
out shortly; he’s just getting ready for the morning service.’ Agnes knew
her grandsons were feeling more than apprehensive about their appointment and
tried to keep her voice as calming as possible.
A minute passed… three
minutes… five. To the two boys it seemed like hours before John finally made
his long-awaited entrance. He could have seen them straight away, but he wanted
his two grandsons to take the time to reflect on the consequences of their
irresponsible behavior, or -- more to his liking -- simply stew over what they
had done.
John looked as sternly as he
possibly could into the guilt-ridden faces of the two culprits. In a strong calm
voice he immediately began the interrogation.
‘I suppose you realise the
damage you have done. What on earth were you blokes doing in my tool shed that
time of night?’
The boys just sat with their
heads bowed in total silence, asking the Good Lord to grant them a miracle and
get them out of this mess. They were not prepared to tell their grandfather the
reason they were in the shed. The thought of how angry he got when they
mentioned Ned Kelly’s name the last time they spoke to him still fresh in
their mind.
‘Well? Have you nothing to
say for yourselves?’
Daniel thought about the
last question for a moment as he prepared his hurried but brilliant defense.
‘We didn’t mean to burn the shed down. We were running for our lives. We
didn’t even know it was on fire until we had reached our bedroom window.’
‘Running for your lives,
don’t be ridiculous. What on earth were you running from?’
‘Mad Dog Morgan! We saw
him! His headless body; Morgan came kicking and bucking across the paddock on
his black stallion, breathing fire and brimstone from hell and swearing and
cursing at us. We’ve never heard such language in our whole lives. He had no
head and was waving his hands about as he galloped towards us.’
Daniel concluded his defense
with a stroke of pure genius. ‘We know he came straight from hell, granddad,
because Father O’Donahue told Freddy McAllister last week that people who
swear and use the Lord’s name in vain will go straight to hell. We didn’t
know about Mad Dog Morgan’s headless body until you warned us about him; so
you really saved our life, granddad.’
John was totally speechless.
Andrew, who was listening
intently to the conversation in the kitchen, could not contain himself any
longer and retreated outside where he immediately broke out into fits of
laughter. Inside, Catherine and Agnes weren’t so amused.
‘John Delaney, what have
you been telling these poor children?’ Agnes scolded. ‘I hope you’re proud
of yourself; you’ve scared the living daylights out of them.’
John had only just then
realised that Daniel had somehow turned the tables on him and had managed to
leave him in a most embarrassing situation. Before John could say another word,
Agnes had the two boys tucked under her arms and was spiriting them off to the
kitchen. Somehow things hadn’t turned out as John had expected, and now found
himself alone, speechless, and quite confused. Although he realised he was
partially responsible for what had happened to his shed, he wasn’t about to
let them off scot-free. He followed the boys into the kitchen and tried to
explain the circumstances of the previous night that had somehow turned him into
the headless corpse of Mad Dog Morgan.
‘Boys, I’m sorry, but I
was only joking about the headless horseman. There is no such thing. The person
you mistook for Dan Morgan last night was me.’
The two boys could not
believe what they were hearing.
‘But granddad,’
interrupted Daniel, ‘I didn’t know you knew such language --’
Before Daniel could finish
what he was saying, Agnes, in a very angry tone replied, ‘and neither did
I!’
Andrew hitched up Sally and
brought the cart down from the stable. Everyone
climbed aboard except for John, who thought under the circumstances it might be
a better idea to ride his horse to church instead of sitting next to Agnes, who
was still stewing in her cold silent mood.
Father O’Donahue, as
usual, was waiting at the front doors of St. Patrick’s, greeting and talking
with his parishioners as they filed into the church. ‘And how are the
Delaney’s on this fine June morning? Yer sportin’ a grand shiner there,
John. I hope ya haven’t been doin’ things ya ought not to be doin’.’
John smiled sheepishly and
followed his family into the pew.
At 7 o’clock precisely,
Father O’Donahue addressed his flock.
The service normally went
for an hour, but on this particular morning it seemed to last a lot longer for
John. He was still getting over the night before, what with the overindulgence
at the pub and the riding exhibition performed in front of his family as the
headless horseman. He could hardly wait to get back home, and when Father
O’Donahue started raising his voice about the evils of drink, and that lies
are the talk of the devil, he could feel the eyes of his wife burning upon him
in condemnation.
Catherine’s eyes, however,
were busy trying to find her parents among the many people in the congregation.
It was unlike them to miss a Sunday service. Normally on a Sunday morning
the Delaneys would stop and wait for them, but because they were running late,
she had assumed they had already left.
On their return home
Catherine asked Andrew if they could stop off to see if all was well with her
mother and father. Joseph and Daniel were already knocking at their
grandparent’s front door before their mother could get down from the cart, and
were letting themselves in when Edith popped her head out of the bedroom window.
‘Shhhh ! Your grandfather
is unwell, be very quiet, the doctor has just been and you must be very
quiet.’ Edith met them at the front door and ushered Catherine and the boys
into the kitchen.
‘Mother, what’s wrong?
Is father going to be okay?’
Edith pulled Catherine aside
so that her grandchildren could not hear what she was about to tell her
daughter. ‘Your father’s heart is very weak dear, and this morning when he
was getting ready for church, he collapsed on the bed. His face was covered in
sweat and had turned a terrible shade of grey, and he was finding it very
difficult to breathe. He’s been very tired lately, but I thought it was just
the long hours he’s been putting in at the store. You know what he’s
like.’
Catherine knew only too well
what he was like; she had seen him rushing around the shop every day of her
life, always complaining there were not enough hours in the day. ‘I’ve told
him many times to get more help, mother, but all he would say is he couldn’t
afford it, and he was quite capable of doing it himself.’
Catherine was now starting
to blame herself for her father’s condition, and could not contemplate what
she would do without him. She tried desperately to hide her tears from her sons,
but the two boys knew things weren’t right.
‘Mother, why are you
crying? Is granddad going to be all right?’ asked Joseph, looking very
concerned over the tears in his mother’s eyes.
‘Everything will be fine,
son. Take your brother back to the cart, and tell everyone to go home. I’ll
stay here for a while and be home later.’
Catherine made a pot of tea,
quietly checked on her sleeping father and joined her mother back in the
kitchen.
‘I don’t know what
I’ll do if anything happens to him, Catherine’ cried Edith, holding her
hands to her face.
Catherine got up and hugged
her mother tight. ‘Don’t worry, mother, everything will be all right. All he
needs is lots of rest, just like Doctor Hastings ordered.’
After staying with her
mother for a couple of hours, Catherine was about to leave when her father
called her name. ‘Catherine my girl, you wouldn’t go without saying goodbye
to your father would you?’
Catherine’s face lit up as
she made her way to the side of the bed. ‘Not in a million years, father.’
‘Come sit down beside
me,’ he said, patting the bedclothes weakly. ‘There’s something I need to
tell you.’
Catherine sat down, leaned
over, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You should be sleeping, and getting
plenty of rest,’ she whispered.
‘No, my dear child, there
are things we must discuss. If anything should happen to me…’
Catherine tried to interrupt
the conversation, but he held up a finger.
‘No! You must listen,
Catherine. You know full well the amount of debt that I’ve been carrying at
the shop for the last six months. Well, I think it’s time that I sold the
business. I can’t expect you to carry on trying to balance books that just
won’t balance.’
Catherine again tried to
interrupt, but Bob Owens was having none of it.
‘Don’t worry, Catherine,
I’ve made sure that you and your mother will be looked after. I’ve a small
amount of money put away for you and the boys until you can sell the shop. Once
the shop is sold and the debt settled, your mother and I have arranged for you
to receive half of what is left. I’m very ill, my dear, and we must look to
the future for everyone’s sake.’
Catherine began to cry and
rested her head gently on her father’s chest. It sounded like her father knew
something they didn‘t, and was trying to tell her in his own caring way. She
gave him a kiss goodbye, and was soon walking up that old dirt road to home. Her
eyes were once more swelled with tears, and her head filled with the unthinkable
possibility that her father could soon be taken from her.
John and Agnes had a look of
concern when Catherine walked in to their kitchen.
‘My dear girl,’ asked
Agnes, ‘how is your father? The boys have told us he’s unwell.’
Catherine threw her arms
around Agnes and again broke down in tears. She explained the seriousness of her
father’s condition, and what he wanted done with the shop.
‘My poor girl, don’t
worry, everything will be okay, I’m sure he just needs plenty of rest.’
John and Andrew kept the
boys amused in the sitting room while their grandmother tried to ease their
mother’s mind. It would not be good for the boys to see their mother in this
condition.
Feeling somewhat better
after talking to Agnes for the good part of an hour, Catherine called for her
sons and returned home. She started preparing their Sunday dinner when Joseph
gently took her by the hand.
‘Mother, is granddad going
to be all right?’
Catherine realized she had
underestimated her eldest son’s powers of observation. ‘Of course he will
be, my darling! He’s just not feeling too well at the moment. All he needs is
just a little rest.’
Joseph wasn’t totally
convinced that his mother was telling him the truth, but thought it better to
leave well enough alone for the time being. After they had finished their
dinner, Catherine decided to get some rest and lay down on the bed, while the
boys retreated to the back steps.
‘Joe, is mother feeling
sick?’ Daniel asked. ‘She doesn’t normally have a sleep in the
afternoon.’
‘Don’t worry about it,
Danny, she’s just fine. She’s most probably tired of you,’ replied Joseph.
Daniel rewarded his brother
with a punch in the arm for that smart remark. But after awhile, boredom set in,
and he began to think of other things to occupy his thoughts.
‘Want to go back to the
old shed, Joe?’
‘What old shed? There’s
no more shed to go to.’
‘Well, we could explore
the ruins. Like the men who go to the Holy Land to look for relics.’
Joe had to admit this seemed
an excellent idea, and he was rather proud of his brother for thinking of it.
Five minutes later they were on their hands and knees in the charred remains,
rummaging for anything they could salvage or even identify. Other than a few
metal tools, nothing remained.
‘Crikey!’ Daniel said,
overwhelmed by it all. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for that
stupid map you were looking at.’
Joseph couldn’t believe
his ears. ‘What are you talking about, Danny? You were the one who knocked
over the lamp and set fire to the shed.’
‘Yeah, but if it wasn’t
for granddad scaring the shits out of me, it wouldn’t have happened. Do you
think the gun got burned up?’
‘Forget the gun, Danny,
it’s gone,’ Joseph said, by now starting to get a little angry with his
obstinate brother.
‘Well, if the old gun has
gone, so has your stupid map.’
Joseph slowly turned to his
brother with a big grin. ‘No way, Danny! When you were out there screaming
like a girl, I put the map in my shirt, and I’ve put it in a safe place until
I can work out what it’s all about.’
Daniel’s eyes lit up with
excitement. ‘Crikey, Joe! What are we waiting for? Let’s go! It could be a
treasure map or something!’
Joseph was excited about the
map’s possibilities as well, but he was even more intrigued by the mysterious
newspaper clippings about the outlaw Ned Kelly. ‘After tea tonight we’ll
have a closer look at the map. But remember, Danny, this is our secret; you must
tell no one.’
Daniel nodded his head,
crossed his heart, and swore an oath to keep their secret. But Joseph knew
Daniel only too well, and knew somewhere down the track he would regret taking
his little brother into his confidence.
On their way back to the
house, Joseph was taken by surprise at Daniel’s next question.
‘Joe, when do you think
father will come back home? I really miss him a lot.’
Joseph placed his arm around
his brother’s shoulder. ‘Danny, don’t worry, father will be home soon.
Granddad told me one Australian soldier could beat the daylights out of a
hundred of those Hun, and remember he’s not alone. There must be at least
twenty blokes just from around here who are also fighting with father. Remember
Tom Jenkins? Well, he’s with father, and I reckon he could whip the whole lot
of them single handed.’
That comment seemed to ease
Daniel’s mind. ‘Yeah, you’re right, Joe. I saw Tom Jenkins pull a plough
out of the mud by himself once when his old horse broke down. Yeah, father will
be home soon.’
The conversation at the
table during tea that night seemed one-sided as Catherine picked at her food in
silence, staring into her plate as if her thoughts were somewhere else. The boys
knew their mother had a lot on her mind. The broken window at the school; her
father being ill, and of course their father, who she worried about constantly.
That night after tea, the
boys finished washing up and thought it best to retreat to the confines of their
bedroom.
‘Joe, get the map and
let’s see what it’s all about; maybe if we find some treasure mother will
feel a lot better,’ Daniel urged, jumping all over his brother.
‘Steady on, Danny, I’ve
got to get it down from on top of the cupboard.’
Joseph stepped onto a chair
and stretched up to pull the map from its hiding place. Once down from the
chair, Joseph had to fend off his brother to prevent him from snatching the map
from his hands. ‘Careful, you idiot, or you’ll tear it to pieces!’
Daniel quickly settled down
and sat beside his brother on the bed. Since Daniel seemed prepared to act more
grown up, Joseph spoke to him that way.
‘The map definitely has to
do with this area; see, there’s the King river, and there’s the Warby range.
Look, Danny, there’s something that looks like a cross where the falls are
marked.’
‘What falls?’ asked
Daniel inquisitively. ‘I don’t know of any falls around here.’
‘I do,’ said Joseph,
laughing. ‘There’s one sitting beside me.’
Daniel thought for a second,
realised who his brother was referring to, and gave him a second sharp punch to
the arm. Once settled down, they noticed that there was more than one cross; in
fact there were four of them, all joined by a dotted line. Joseph knew the Warby
range was about ten miles away to the west, so following back down the dotted
line, he realised that the first cross would have to be near where they
lived.
‘See here, Danny, that
creek marked just there? I reckon it’s Murphy’s Creek which runs down the
back of granddad’s farm.’
Daniel wasn’t sure what
he was looking at, but if that’s what Joe reckoned, it had to be so. While
Joseph stared intently at the map, Daniel noticed something else.
‘Joe, look at the funny
writing at the bottom of the map; it looks like Chinese.’
Joe looked at what Daniel
was talking about and quickly turned the map over. ‘It’s regular English --
it just looked backwards because it bled through from the back.’
‘Can you read it?’
Daniel asked impatiently.
‘Yes, I just don’t know
what it means. It looks like some sort of poem.’ Because of the fading light
of winter, Joseph lit the kerosene lantern to make sure he caught every word.
A
TRUSTED FRIEND IN TIMES OF WRATH
NO
PAYMENT ASKED FOR IRON CLOTH
BUT
IN THE RANGE BEHIND THE FALLS
A
TIDY SUM DEEP IN ITS WALL
FROM
WHERE THE IRON GLOWS WITH HEAT
DEEP
IN THE BUSH LAST CHANCE TO MEET
THREE
MILES AS THE CROW FLIES SOUTH
STRONG
DRINK TO WET A DUSTY MOUTH
A
MINERS HUT ALONG THE BOGS
WILL
KEEP YOU FROM BLUE COATED DOGS
SIX
MILES MORE SOUTH WEST YOU HEAD
ALONG
THE BULLOCKS TRACK A SHED
AND
FROM THE GIANT RED GUM TREE
DUE
WEST THE WATERS FALL YOU’LL SEE.
Joe
(you know who)
‘What’s it say Joe?’
asked Daniel impatiently.
‘I don’t know; it
doesn’t seem to make any sense. I think the bloke who wrote it is trying to
tell someone how to read the map on the other side of the page.’
Joseph was about to read
these strange words again when he was interrupted by the sound of their bedroom
door opening.
‘It’s time to get some
sleep, boys,’ Catherine said.
Joseph quickly hid the map
under his pillow before their mother could enter the room.
‘Now, don’t forget,
Daniel. We have an appointment with Sister Theresa in the morning and I want to
drop in to see how granddad Owens is feeling. I’ve asked Mr. Jenkins to open
the shop in the morning until I’ve sorted out this broken window business. I
don’t want any dawdling in the morning either. We won’t even have time to
drop in to grandma Delaney’s.’
Daniel’s jaw dropped with
disappointment. No grandma Delaney, no homemade biscuits.
‘Don’t look like that,
Daniel, you only have yourself to blame. Now blow out the lamp and straight to
sleep.’ Before they knew it, their mother had given them both a kiss and
disappeared out the door.
‘Thanks a lot, Daniel. Now
look what you’ve done. If it wasn’t for you whacking that stone through the
window, mother wouldn’t be in such a state.’
‘And if it wasn’t for
your lousy bowling,’ replied Daniel, ‘I wouldn’t have hit the stone.’
Unable to think of an answer
to Daniel’s logic, Joseph just pulled the blanket over his head and hoped his
brother would also disappear.
No such luck; within seconds
Daniel was whispering in his ear, ‘When are we going to search for the
treasure, Joe? What do you think those words meant?’
‘I don’t know,’
replied Joseph angrily. ‘Now get to sleep; we’ll talk about it tomorrow.’