A MYSTERY OF THE AUSTRAILAN BUSH.

Woodville Examiner, Volume XXVI, Issue 4469, 8 September 1911, Page 3 (Supplement)

A MYSTERY OF THE AUSTRAILAN BUSH.

' THE NIGHT-CRIES FROM THE CREEK. IT will be within the memory of many people thdt some few years back a woman was found killed near the gates of tho outer Domajn, Sydney. No clue to the piurderer was ever discovered, and the; crime in the long run went to swell the long list of unsolved mysteries which go to make up the life of a great city. The police, however, managed to obtain tho information from a female friend of the deceased woman that on tho night of her death she had an appointment with a sailor. Subsequent to the time of appointment nine o'clock—she was seen in conversation with a man in a pea-jackct near the spot where sho was afterwards found dead. No further light was ever thrown on tho matter.

Some six montlis or so later, a man carrying his swag arrived at M Station, in the Northern Border Country, in search of employment. The manager found him work. He was a new-ehum in the hush, gnd vouchsafed the information to the station hands that ho had followed a sea-faring life. He had the sailor’s appearance, habits, and gait. _

The newcomer did hot prove an acquisition to the social circle of the place—if tho term may be; so expressed. Ho was taciturn and moody. He made friends with no one; and no ono made friends with him. He spent most of his time after working hours in carefully wading through all the newspapers he could get hold of, and in smoking. His employment was that of a knockabout band, and he was known as Surly Joe. He had given the name of Joe. and no more. He may have given the manager a. surname, but no one else. He spoke little or nq+bimr about bis past life. He was remarkably reticent concerning himself. For all the people' on the station knew about him—who he was, .or where be came from—bo might have drooped from the clouds.

Tho homestead at M , as is the case on many stations, was built right on tho banks of a. stream, in this instance a creek with'steep banks. Tho men’s quarters were some 200 yards below it.

Ono calm, still night, in the intense heat of summer-time, pretty well all hands in the hut were lolling on tho verandah enioying what little, breeze came from off the water.

Suddenly, from the bed of the stream came floating up, on'tho still _ cries —plaintive and weird —increasing in intensity till drawn-out to tones of anguish—cries that made every man leap to his feet. They were cries that inspired terror —so weird, so appealing, so awful in their intensity. They were repeated thrice—growing fainter and fainter—finally dying away down in the lied of the stream. The men looked from one to another questioningly dn silence, and then began to speculate as to what they meant or whence they came. “ Human cries.” said the niaioritv of the men—all of whom had had long experience in tho hush, and thov made haste down -the hanks of tho Stream to see what was the moaning of it all. All except Surly Joe. As the first cries were home on the night air ho sprang up with tI)G rest of the men. then abruptly walked into the hnt, and lay on Ids bunk. TJp at tho homestead the cries had been heard even clearer. The manager, with, some members of the family and a few-visiting friends, was on the verandah. Wth expressions of alarm they sprang to their feet, then peered into tho night, bending their heads to listen more intently as the cries came up from tho creek below. The women shivered, and some went indoors, tho rest remaining to speculate tho same as tho l ands down at tho hunt.

“ Those cries,” aid Manager F impressively. “ came, from neither animal nor bird. I have been 30 years in the bush. They are human, and those of a female. Let us hasten down. Someone is in distress. She may have been.drowning,” And they hastened down to the water to find there a band of silent men from the, hut on the same quest. They coo-eed. long and loud, but no reply came; all was as silent as the grave, save for the lap-lap of the water against the bank. They searched up and down for a quarter of a mile each way, but found nothing. Then they went homo puzzled. Next morning, immediately after breakfast, Surly Joe came down to the office, and asked for his cheque—saying ho was tired of the place. Ho passed on, and no one missed him. That day —after fruitlessly dragging the creek with grappling irons—the manager despatched men to all points of the district to ascertain if anyone was missing. Nobody was missing. Neither had' any strange man or woman been seen anywhere within the vicinity of the station. It was a sparsely-populated area, and a swagman could scarcely travel the beaten road without someone knowing it, much loss could a woman. •What were the cries from the crock? And why did this reticent cxsailor go inside that s he might not how them? And why did ho abruptly quit the station the next morning? Was there some connection between those cries—the woman who wis murdered six months before —and himself? Was ho the sailor or the man in the pea-jackc-t seen talking to the Sydney woman who -was killed, and whose cries were to ever thus haunt her destroyer wherever he might wander? Was this to go with him.” Of all the "strange and mysterious happenings coming under my notice in a long bush life, none, perhaps, has been more indelibly {stamped upon my memory tban the foregoing—not a single detail of which has been here omitted.—‘‘The World’s jNews.”