Jack turned at the shot and saw the bulls, but too late.  Right through his mob they galloped, splitting it up into fragments, and in a moment pack-horses, cattle, riders, bulls, were part of a surging, galloping mass—­boys galloping after bulls, and bulls after boys, and the white folk after anything and everything, peppering bulls with revolver-shots (stock-whip having no effect), shouting orders, and striving their utmost to hold the mob; pack and loose horses galloping and kicking as they freed themselves from the hubbub; and the missus scurrying here and there on the outskirts of the melee, dodging behind bushes and scrub in her anxiety to avoid both bulls and revolver-shots.  Ennui forsooth!  Never was a woman farther from death by ennui.

Finally the horses gathered themselves together in the friendly shelter of some scrub, and as the woman sought safety among them, the Maluka’s rifle rang out, and a charging bull went down before it.  Then out of the thick of the uproar Sambo came full gallop, with a bull at his horse’s heels, and Dan full gallop behind the bull, bringing his rifle to his shoulder as he galloped, and as all three galloped madly on Dan fired, and the bull pitching blindly forward, Sambo wheeled, and he and Dan galloped back to the mob to meet another charging outlaw and deal with it.

Then in quick succession from all sides of the mob bulls darted out with riders at their heels, or riders shot forward with bulls at their heels, until the mob looked like a great spoked wheel revolving on its own axis.  Bull after bull went down before the rifles, old Roper, with the Maluka riding him, standing like a rock under fire; and then, just as the mob was quieting down, a wild scrub cow with a half-grown calf at her heels shot out of the mob and headed straight for the pack team, Dan galloping beside her and cracking thunderclaps out of a stock-whip.  Flash and I scuttled to shelter, and Dan, bending the cow back to the mob, shouted as he passed by, at full gallop:  “Here you are, missus; thought you might like a drop of milk.”

For another five minutes the mob was “held” to steady them a bit before starting, and then, just as all seemed in order, one of the prostrate bulls staggered to its feet—­anything but dead; and as a yell went up “Look out, boss! look out!” Roper sprang forward in obedience to the spurs, just too late to miss a sudden, mad lunge from the wounded outlaw, and the next moment the bull was down with a few more shots in him, and Roper was receiving a tribute that only he could command.

With that surging mob of cattle beside them, the Maluka and Dan had dismounted, and were trying to staunch the flow of blood, while black boys gathered round, and Jack and the Dandy, satisfied that the injuries were not “too serious,” were leaning over from their saddles congratulating the old horse on having “got off so easy.”  The wound fortunately, was in the thigh, and just a clean deep punch for, as by a miracle, the bull’s horn had missed all tendons and as the old campaigner was led away for treatmen he disdained even to limp, and was well within a fortnight.