The boys listened soberly, very elated and perfectly happy.

‘But we mustn’t let the nex’ one go so easy,’ said the leader.

‘Here is someone,’ whispered Fork Lightning.

Sure enough, a pedestrian could be dimly discerned approaching from the direction of the toll-gate.

’To yer horses! commanded Red Hand.

‘Why, it’s a woman,’ said Peterson.

‘Who cares?’

‘Thought bushrangers never did nothin’ to the women?’

‘Oh,’ said Dick, ‘that’s on’y when they’re young an’ pretty.  If this one’s young an’ pretty I’ll ‘polo gise, an’ it’ll be all right.  There ain’t no reason not to bail ’em up when they’re big an’ strong an’ able to take care o’ themselves.’

This seemed quite reasonable to the gang, and they saw as the lady approached that her size did not give her any claim upon their gallantry.  She was very tall and stout.  In point of fact she was the woman who had driven through Waddy on the day after the goat raid, calling down infamy on the township.

‘Bail up!’ cried Red Hand.

Phil, Ted, and Peterson rode up in front, barring the way.  Red Hand and Fork Lightning approached from either side, and all presented pistols.  The woman backed away a few paces, staring at the goat-mounted, masked apparitions that seemed to have started out of the ground under her very nose, but the bushrangers followed her up.

‘Be not afraid, madam,’ said Dick in his best literary style; ’I am Red Hand, an’ if you obey no injury’ll be done you.’

The woman threw up her hands in amazement.

‘Well I never,’ she muttered.  Without the least warning she darted at Ted, seized him, pulled him from the back of his billy, and in spite of his wild struggles promptly bent him over her knee; then, with a hand like that of a navvy, backed by a great muscular arm, began to spank the terrible outlaw.

‘You look out!  You le’ me alone!’ gasped Ted, struggling and writhing with all his power; but the flailing went on, bat—­bat—­bat—­with blows that might have disturbed an elephant.  Ted’s feelings became too strong for words; he started to howl, and the night re-echoed with the cries of the outraged bushranger.  The rest of the gang stood mute, staring at this shocking scene, amazed and deeply offended.  It was all so incongruous, so utterly opposed to rule and precedent; they could scarcely believe their senses.  Dick was the first to recover.

‘Fire!’ commanded Red Hand.

Cracker-wicks were ignited and four explosions followed, but when the smoke was gone the gang still beheld the terrible woman beating away at their unhappy comrade, too absorbed in a congenial occupation to care a solitary button for the fire of the outlaws.  This was too much for Jacker.  The brothers were always ready to fight each other’s battles, let the odds be what they might, and the elder rushed to the rescue.  The onslaught did not seem to make the least difference, however; the woman simply dropped Ted and grasped his brother.  Jacker Mack was a strong boy and a fierce one, but strength and tricks availed him nothing against those powerful arms; in ten seconds he was in Ted’s place, and the massive hand was dealing with him, heavily and with startling rapidity.