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.
However, time was a passing, days were passing, the weather was
passing to something a little less hotter that the 55 degrees that
has helped the travellers with the travel, which is what travellers
do when they are travelling, travel, I mean.
So, soon, the travellers will reach the mansion of Marrakorpa and
his delectable bride, The Elk.
So hang about.
