The Northern Territory border lay in the distant desert, defining districts determined during days departed. Borders were struck across land masses, messes were made of the masses and a morass of maps and masses with border messes amassed the landscape like tracks and missing roads, and even missing tacks that went missing after the last long lapse over-lapped the lip of the elongated line that suggested a border may have been seen here at one time or another, or several other times, which ever came first.
However, with the true art of the well taught bushman of the Outback, the man with knowledge far beyond his own comprehension and understanding, served him purposefully when he needed to become confused, which with his knowledge was often. Sorry, I am speaking of Old Pete, the master of the unmistakeable, the maker of the unbreakable, the Kooka in the Burra, the bird in the nest, friend to all and sundry, although sundry does irk him sometimes, this is the man of whom I now speak. This mild mannered reporter, who once writ summit for the Daily Planet, this man that with keen sense and acumen, with his eye for the stars at night, when else, he did some dead reckoning to aim directly for the border at a set point that would put his trusty camel cavalcade clearly coursed correctly, and to which Old Pete's directions and massive complicated calculations had them a mere three hundred and fifty miles off the designated spot of crossing.
To which the intrepid Old Pete offered his comment “Close enough, it don't have ta' be exact, ya' know?”
“Just as well,” Sed Reddie who had stayed in the rear of the camels, suggesting that the old fella keep a watch on her so she didn't get lost.
To which, naturally, Old Pete was deemed to say, “I already got a watch on ya'.”
“And he is gotta' watch on me, ya'?” sed Heidi.
“I had a watch on you before I had a watch on ya.” Old Pete giggle at his wonderful sense of humour. He could spend hours telling himself jokes, mainly because he forgot jokes really quickly and to tell them to himself again was like telling them for the first time, so he giggled a lot..The desert can do that to ya' sometimes (giggle).
It did not take much of a correction to correct the needed corrected calculation calculated to correct the previous incorrect calculation that caused the course to be considered off course, of course. To this massive study of stars and maps, and maps and stars and stuff, there was ,the, not unexpected Tourist Advisory Sign that stated, in a most affirmative manner, that “You are Here”, and , of course, if you are setting a course that needs a course to be set, more accurate than the second hand on the Greenwich Clock that can be very mean, sometimes. Why they call it the second hand, I cannot at this particular time explain why, as to the best of my knowledge, the Greenwich Meantime clock has three hands. Having said that, let me say this, work it out for your self.
In that short space of time that it tool you to read all the informative information informing you of the circumstances that currently creates a bit more of the Adventures, the Cavalcade of camels and cargo and combi had traversed well into the Northern Territory and well on their way to the well that will find them at Marrakorpa's humble homestead.
“Should make Marra's place by daylight tomorra'.” Old Pete uttered with a little less confidence than he had at declaring the border crossing.
“Is this calculation taken from you little book of border crossings, darling?” Reddie asked innocently, not meaning anything sarcastic, or demeaning, as it is known that she can be de meaner than that comment ifn' she is pressed.
Old Pete was feeling pressed, the pressure of having two beautiful, intelligent women in the camp, along with three very smart camels, left the old bloke wanting sometimes. Not sure what it is that he is wanting, but it seems the more naked the girls get the more wanting he gets, and to be a bit gossipy, he gets what he wants from Reddie.
It was not long before the master desert traveller noticed something on the horizon. Putting his hand to his forehead, which he carried on the fore of his head, he could not quite make out the shape, so in the old tradition of t he Australian bushman he put the other hand on the hand on his forehead so that he could see twice as far, and sure enough the shape he could see was a shape that was not unlike something that he had seen before, only the previous time he only needed one hand to see the shape.
“Must be needin' glasses,” He muttered to himself.
“Vass is that shape on the horzonenheimer?” Heidi hazarded a question. She was still a bit sceptical, and not so sure of the old fella's desert knowledge after the border crossing incident.
“You saw it too?”
Nine, I iss only guessing that something iss on horizonenheimer.” Sarcasm was like syrup around the camp.
“Well, ya' guessed right, smarty pants, ifn' ya' had any on, there is summit on the horizon.”
“Vell Vot iss it then?”
“Looks like a sand dune.” Old Pete could be very wise if he really tried, but that was not one of those times.
“Na! I can not belief in thass. Nine,not a sand dune out here in diss desert.” The sarcasm had turned to molasses.
“Well, we will wait until we get closer.” Old pete said, riding above the derogatory comments that were meant to derog, his words, but only in fun.
Little did Old Pete know, but the lump on the horizon was, in fact, the outskirts of Marrakorpa's spread. Not that Marrakorpa lived in skirts, but he has been known to skirt around the outskirts of many a skirt in his time. Not that he is going to see much of a skirt, either out or around, with the arrival of Reddie and Heidi. Not that Reddie and Heidi will skirt around Marrakorpa's spread wearing their usual attire, which was nothing to sneeze at, as you would be only sneezing at bare skin, and that's rude in the desert country, sneezing on someone. Not that Marrakorpa had a personal spread, as it is referring to his property. Not that his property is not spread like a skirt in a stiff breeze, ifn' ya' know wot I mean. Not that I expect you to know wot I mean, ifn' ya' know wot I mean.
So, soon, the travellers will reach the mansion of Marrakorpa and his delectable bride, The Elk.
So hang about.