CHAPTER 3.
But she had only gone a few steps, when out of the gidia scrub, came Oola the half-caste, her comely face bruised, her eyes wild with grief and terror, her head tied up in a blood-stained strip torn from Lady Bridget's lacy undergarment, the gaily-flowered kimono hanging in dirty shreds upon her brown bosom.
'White Mary! Lathy-chap!' she cried.

'Plenty poor feller Oola.

Plenty quick me run.

Me want 'em catch Lathy-chap before pollis-man come.

That feller pollis-man take Wombo long-a gaol.