Mal's Big Iron

Mal's Iron. We were bush camped just west of The Foxtrap, about 60k east of Quilpie and 100 or so west of St. George, about 500m from the road. Just far enough to be out of sight from the road we thought. It was quite a good level camp site with a good supply of wood for a fire and an opportunity to try the new chain saw out. Pull, pull, pull, but the damned saw wouldn't start, so it was back to the axe once more. I think a lot of people who choose to bush camp at one time or another think about the safety and security aspect of it all, and we were no different. It was just after dark when we heard the vehicle slow suddenly, turn around and make its way slowly past us before accelerating on its way. We soon put it out of mind. Mary had cooked a beaut damper in the camp oven and we were licking the last of the golden syrup from our fingers when the car returned, bouncing up the rough track to the camp site with headlights blazing and coming to an abrupt stop alongside the camp site. Stan had gone for the shovel and I had my new three quarter axe at the ready when a gravelly voice coming from behind the blinding headlights demanded to know "what are you lot up to .. Eh?" As I nervously made my way over to the driver side door, I could see the shot gun resting in the lap of the unshaven character still sitting in the drivers seat of a battered old Falcon. So it was just the driver and his shot gun against four of us with an axe, and a shovel. I figured the odds were still heavily weighted against us but before I got the chance to explain our purpose, he announced us as 'harmless tourists'. "Mal's me name ...eh?" which we took to be a question which required of us our names. So excitedly and somewhat relieved, we introduced ourselves whereupon Mal proceeded to explain himself. He had in fact noticed us earlier and not wishing to stumble into anything unprepared, turned around and went home to "get some iron" as he explained. "ya never walk into a situation like this out here without iron. ....eh, thought you might a been dressin' a killer ... Eh" Mal continued "Roo shooters bin givin' us a bit of trouble lately, so I went home to get some help ... Eh?" Mal patted his 'iron', not without affection. Mal turned out to be a friendly bush character who looked after his mates property while he was away. We were camped on the property but it was right by him now he knew who we were. Said he was going down to The Foxtrap to get a six pack but since he had polished one off already he would now have to get two to get him home. Mal asked if we were mechanical because he just bought a new D Max and got some crook fuel in it and now it had shut down and wouldn't go any more than 40kph. "the dealer said to drive it down to Roma and he would hook it up to a computer thingy and sort it out....eh. Jeez at that speed I'd clean The Foxtrap outa grog and still not have enough to get there ....eh?"