One of the men told me they were going on a hunt for food. I said I'd like to come along. I had Wilhelmina slung around my shoulder but I didn't want to use the gun if I didn't have to. I didn't know whether these primitive people had had any experience with firearms. The nomadic aborigines, different in so many ways from most primitive peoples, were also unique in that they were not at all warlike. They hunted to live and moved about constantly on what some tribes, familiar with the white man's tongue, called the "walkabout." Two young men, an old fellow with a gray beard and straight, silver-blond hair and myself made up the hunting party. I didn't see a damn thing to hunt on the open plains, but I learned, once again, a fact I had known but almost forgotten. Seeing is more a matter of knowing what to look for than anything else. We moved slowly along the dry bed of a stream and they paused to point out tracks to me, and then, by gesture, described the animals that had made them. I saw snake, wallaby, kangaroo, lizard and emu. And I learned that to the aborigine, the tracks were not just marks left in the soil but each one was a picture story. They would study a track and decide whether the animal was moving slowly or quickly, whether he was young or old, how long ago he'd passed this way.
Primitive people, I asked myself? Yes, in a big city, around mechanical devices they knew nothing about. But I was the primitive here. They decided to go after a lizard who, by their calculations, had passed only recently. With the old man doing the tracking, we caught up to the lizard, a big fellow with a vicious set of claws. The hunters speared him quickly and we carried him back to the others. A fire cooked the reptile and once more I found myself enjoying food I'd have rebelled against at any other time.
In the days that went by I lived with the aborigines, moved with them and went along to hunt with them. Little by little my muscle tone rebounded, and the blistered skin of my body returned to normal. My strength was almost fully regained, and one morning I began to try to tell them that I had to leave, to return to civilization. Somehow, I got it across — with the fact that I didn't have the faintest idea of how to get back. I knew if I struck out blindly, I'd probably end up in the same fix I was in when I was catapulted out of the plane. I didn't think I could survive a second time — not so soon, anyway.
The old man spoke to two of the younger ones and they came up to stand beside me. I wanted to say thanks for saving my life but how the hell do you say that in sign language? I'd seen little in the way of affectionate gestures among these nomads, but I fell back on the bow, low and sweeping, with hands folded before me. I think they understood. They nodded and grinned anyway.
The two young men started to trot off and I followed. They moved along still damp gulleys where their feet stayed cool. They took advantage of the shadowed side of a slope, no matter how slight the slope. And at night, we always had some meat to cook by the fire. Then one morning, they halted and pointed along a low rise on the dry, parched land. They indicated I was to follow it and then continue along the same direction. I bowed once again and started off. When I looked back, they were already trotting off the way we'd come.
As the hours went by, I saw that the land was becoming slightly less parched, perhaps a fine line of distinction, but nonetheless true. I noticed brown patches of dried grass, and some low bushes, and then, in the distance, a cluster of houses. I found an old man and some seedy looking cattle. He had no telephone, of course, but he did have water and some canned food. I'd never had a better banquet at the Waldorf. He gave me directions to the next ranch, a larger spread, and by moving from one to another, I found one with a car. I identified myself and got a lift into a dusty town where there was a territorial agent with a radio. He put a message through to Ayr and Major Rothwell's office and within the hour a jet plane came to a halt on the flat, dry land alongside the town. With borrowed shirt and pants. I went back to Ayr. Major Rothwell was at the airfield and his eyes echoed the disbelief in his words.
"By God, Carter," he said pumping my hand. You're even-thing they say and more. We'd counted you out as dead. Lieutenant Dempster's plane, the one you went off in with him, crashed at sea. We thought you were both in it."
"I doubt that even Dempster was in it," I said. "He ejected me and left me to die in the outback."
"My God!" Roth well exclaimed as we got into a chauffered car. "What in God's name for. Carter? Did you have him dead to rights on something?"
"No, but I was getting too close to something," I said grimly. And I'm going to get closer. Are my things still at that cottage?"
"Yes, we haven't done anything about that yet," the Major answered.
"Then all I need is a new set of keys," I said.
"Mona will have those," Rothwell assured me. "She'd have been with me, but she took a few days off. She doesn't know you're not done in."
"I'll surprise her" I said. "But I'd like to wash up a bit first."
"You can do that at headquarters," the Major said, and then he bit his lip apprehensively. "But there's one thing. Carter. I called Hawk and told him about the plane crashing into the sea with you and Dempster in it."
I grinned and made a small bet with myself. The car drew up before the Intelligence offices and while I washed up the Major had a call put in to Hawk. I picked up the phone when it came through. I won the bet with myself as I said hello and Hawk's voice showed not the slightest hint of surprise.
"Can't you even fake being surprised and excited at the fact that I'm still alive?" I protested.
"I didn't figure you were in that plane," he said blandly. "Entirely too mundane a way to go for you."
I chuckled. "Something is definitely rotten here," I said. "I think I've got the story but not the cast."
"Stay with it," he grunted. "Without the cast, you've got nothing. Keep me posted."
The line clicked off and I turned to Major Rothwell. I knew he deserved a briefing but I decided against it. All I had was what I'd spelled out for myself and that wasn't enough.
"I'll stop at Mona's and get the extra keys for the cottage," I said.
"The car was brought back from Air Force," he said. "It's in the back, waiting for you. Oh, one more thing. A girl named Judy Henniker has called almost every day to speak to you."
I nodded and went out to get the car. It was dark, and Judy would be at The Ruddy Jug now. I'd get to her later. I drove to Mona's apartment, rang the bell and waited. She opened the door and froze, her mouth dropping open, her eye; blinking in disbelief. I grinned and walked in. It was only when I was inside that she found herself and flew into my arms.
"Damn, but I don't believe it yet," she said, her lips wet and hungry against mine. "Oh, Nick," she said. "You don't know how I felt. I just wanted to run away someplace and hide from everything and everyone."
"I'm a hard man to kill," I said. "I like living too much. Though I most say they came damned dose to it this time."
I palled back from her and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm here for the extra set of keys to the cottage," I said. "I'm going back, to bathe and stretch out. I've got a lot of thinking to do."
She got the keys from a dresser drawer and pressed herself against me again, her breasts a wonderful reminder against my chest But I needed another twenty-four hours of rest before I was ready for Mona. I kissed her hard and quickly realized that maybe I was wrong about the twenty four hours. But I left anyway.