“If these missionary fellows did any good I wouldn’t object, but they don’t. They just teach those black devils of theirs to think themselves better than a white man. Why, one beggar they’ve reared they sent over here,—in a black coat, if you please!—who had the impudence, curse him! to give a sermon in the Wesleyans’ Gospel-mill down there.”
“Ha! ha!” laughs Puttis grimly, looking straight in front of him, his left hand unconsciously fingering the revolver pouch on his hip. “These mission stations. Good preserves for us sometimes. Besides missionaries prevent squatters doing our work themselves. No missionaries, no Black Police very soon. A Black War, like they had in Tasmania, would soon result. No more niggers for us to disperse.”
Taking a Sydney paper from his breast pocket, the little man points to it, asking if his friend has “Seen this?”
Inspector Bigger adjusts his eyeglass after some nervous, blundering attempts, and with some trouble, for he has “nipped” himself into a happy, sleepy mood by this time, makes out the following paragraph in the Sydney Telegraph.
“DEPREDATIONS BY BLACKS.
“SWEEPING CHARGES AGAINST THE MISSIONS.
“(By Telegraph.)
“Adelaide, Wednesday.
“A deputation of Northern Territory pastoralists to-day asked the Government to send more mounted police to the Territory in order to deal with depredatory blacks, who killed large numbers of stock. The majority of these natives belonged to the mission stations. The Minister for Education, in reply, said it seemed to him that the mission stations did more harm than good. He had official information that all the black outlaws in the Territory made for the missions when hard pressed and the missionaries protected them, and that the worst cattle-killers were the mission aboriginals. He was sorry, however, that owing to the bad state of the finances of the Northern Territory additional police protection could not be granted.”
“Yes,” murmurs the inspector, when he has got the gist of the article fairly into his slightly muddled brain. “That’s comforting. Right man in right place. Education’s the thing. He knows what he’s talking about. As long as we’ve squatters in the ministry and on the bench we’re all right, eh?”
“Yes, and when Western Australia is out of home Government’s interference. Ha! ha! something to do for squatters there, I fancy. I’ll see Thompson,” Puttis adds, rising, “about your affair. He knows me. Never allow nonsense from cockatoos (settlers). He will send evidence you want. Double quick time.”