‘Go fer him, daddy.  Sure, ye can lick him wid one hand, dear,’ pleaded Danny.

’Yer dir-rty goats have ate me gar-rden, sor.  D’ye moind me now?  It’s ruined me gar-rden is on me,’ said Devoy aggressively.

‘Hit him, daddy,’ screamed Danny.

Devoy accepted the advice and struck the first blow.  The man from Cow Flat was very willing, and they fought a long, destructive battle; and through it all Danny danced about the ring, bristling with excitement and crying fierce and persistent encouragement to his sire.

‘Let him have it, daddy!’ ‘Now ye have him!’ ‘Good on you, daddy!’ ’Sure, you’ll do him!’ ‘One round more, daddy, an’ ye have him beat!’ These phrases, and shrill inarticulate cries of applause and astonishment and joy, Danny reiterated breathlessly until his father was pronounced the victor; then he took the battered hero fondly by the hand and led him away to be bathed and plastered and bandaged by a devoted wife and mother.

The downfall of Devoy’s opponent brought other champions from Cow Flat; there were open fights in Wilson’s paddocks by day and assaults and sallies by night, and the bitterness deepened into hatred.  Waddy now resisted every attempt to carry off the stolen goats, and parties coming from Cow Flat by night were content with any animals they could lay their hands on; so for nearly a week the township was beset with alarums and excursions, and Jo Rogers, as its admitted champion, had more engagements on his hands than he could reasonably be expected to fulfil in a month.

Dickie and his accomplices were amazed at the developments, and watched the trouble grow with the greatest concern.  The contests on the open ground beyond the quarries were frequent and free, and then there came a lull; but from Cow Flat came rumours of a grand coup meditated by the leaders on that side.  Preparations were being made for an attack by a large body, and the forcible abduction of all the goats, irrespective of individual rights.  The excitement had now reached fever heat, and there were few men in Waddy who were not ready, even anxious, to strike a blow for the preservation of the flocks and herds and the credit of the township.

On the side of approach from Cow Flat Waddy was protected for the greater part of the distance by the string of quarries; under the command of Big Peterson, who as an ex-soldier had some military reputation, logs were dragged from the bush, and the space between the end of the quarries and the fence of Summers’ south paddock was smartly barricaded.  The defenders were armed with light sticks, and it was understood that these were to be used only if the enemy refused to abide by Nature’s weapons.

All the mines in the vicinity of Waddy worked short-handed on the day of the Great Goat Riot; the men, under the command of Captain Peterson, were sitting in bands, hidden from view in the quarries, smoking, discussing the situation, and patiently awaiting the attack.  They did not wait in vain.  At about eleven o’clock a scout came in with the intelligence that a large body was advancing in irregular order through Wilson’s paddock, and a quarter of an hour later the men of Cow Flat swarmed out of the bush and over the fence and charged Waddy at a trot.