‘Charge!’ shrieked Red Hand.

But the gang was demoralized.  Peterson and Doon moved back from the danger, and only one member obeyed the order—­Peterson’s formidable goat, Hector.  Goodness knows what inspired the animal; possibly a grateful instinct, probably the sight of means to do an ill deed.  Anyhow, he charged.  He rushed the woman from a commanding position, with force and judgment, and a second later Jacker, woman, and goat were rolling and struggling in the dust.  Red Hand and the faithful Ted dragged Jacker from the hands of the enemy, and the gang fled to a safe distance, and watched the shadowy form of the woman as she gathered herself up and shook the dust out of her dress.  Then for two minutes she stood and addressed them through the darkness in strident tones and language that would have shocked an old drover or a railway ganger.

‘Bushrangin’ ain’t up to much,’ whimpered Ted, rubbing himself with both hands.

‘It’s rot!’ said Jacker fiercely.

Peterson and Doon muttered words of approval, and Dick felt that four pairs of reproachful eyes were turned upon him.  Gable was still hopping about ecstatically murmuring ‘Crickey!  Oh, crickey!’ as he had been doing all through the encounter.

‘How’d I know?’ said Dick in self-defence.  ’You fellers oughter had better sense’n to let her get hold o’ you.’

‘You started it!’ groaned Ted.

‘Pretty lot o’ bushrangers you are, anyway,’ Dick sneered, ‘howlin’ ‘cause a woman gave you a bit of a doin’.’

‘How’ d you like it?’ asked Jacker sullenly.

Dick disdained to reply; indeed his attention was occupied with more important things.  Out of the night came the sound of galloping hoofs and calling voices.  The boys listened anxiously for a minute or so, and then realised their danger.

‘They’re after us!’ exclaimed Dick.  ‘Scatter an’ run for the scrub.  Meet at the mine!’

The pursuers dashed up on their horses just as the boys swarmed over the fence into Wilson’s paddock.  It was the party of young men who first passed the bushrangers, and the man on the grey horse.  They were armed with bottles, three parts drunk, and bent on making an heroic capture.  Some of them sprang from their horses and pursued the flying bushrangers through the trees.

Dick and Peterson reached the Gaol Quarry safely, and sat in doleful silence waiting for their mates, and wondering if any had been taken.  Ted and Jacker joined them a few minutes later, and Phil Doon came limping up in the course of a quarter of an hour.  He had bad news.

‘They’ve got Gable!’ he cried from a distance.

‘No.  Go on!’

‘S’help me.  I fell gettin’ over the fence an’ sneaked into a hollow tree, an’ saw ’em snavel him.  ’Here’s one of ’em’ said one, an’ they put him on a horse an’ tied his legs under its belly, an’ they’ve gone into Yarraman with him.’

‘Gee-rusalem!  An’ what’d he say?’ gasped Dick.