en wurlies seemed deserted
except for this one miserable specimen of humanity. Bits of clothing,
tins, pieces of decaying food, and all sorts of dirt were strewn around
the camp and gave out such an unpleasant smell that the boys turned
away in disgust.

"What's the matter?" asked Peter.

"How horribly dirty he is," said Vaughan. "Aren't some of them clean?"

"Oh yes," replied Peter. "Most boys who work on stations are made to
use soap. That's because they work with white men, or with decent
chaps like Becker Singh. His boys aren't bad. But you leave them
alone for a week, and they'll be just as bad as that old buck there.
Don't you ever forget--" he added earnestly, "don't you ever forget
that that's the real nigger you've just seen. And don't you have too
much to do with them."

"There's not much fear of that," said Sax.

"Well, don't you forget it, that's all," repeated Peter. "Many a good
lad has gone to the dogs through having too much to do with niggers."

They reached the Dingo Creek on the morning of the fourth day. The
bridge was a complete wreck. It was almost impossible to believe that
wind could have done so much damage. The whole thing had been lifted
off the stanchions, twisted as easily as if it had been a ribbon of
paper, and then thrown down into the soft sand of the creek bed. The
steel stanchions leaned this way and that; one of them had been torn up
from its concrete foundation, and another had been screwed about till
it looked like a gigantic corkscrew. The bridge must have been caught
by the very centre of the tornado.

The camels did not stop at the creek. They travelled on for a couple
of miles to where a railway engine and a few trucks were waiting.
These had been sent down from Oodnadatta with a break-down gang of men,
and were returning next day. Peter decided to stay and help Becker
with the camels as far as Oodnadatta, but, at his advice, the two boys
went on by train, and so it came about that they completed their broken
journey in the same way in which it had begun.

CHAPTER III

A Message from the Unknown

The sun had set several hours ago when the train finally pulled up at
Oodnadatta station. A hurricane-lantern hung under a veranda, and
showed a crowd of about twenty men, women, and children with eager
faces, ready to welcome anyone who had completed the interrupted
journey. But the two boys were the only passengers. They stood on the
platform of th