Each time he came in front of that individual Coutlass paused and executed special finger movements, like the trills of a super-pianist, ending invariably in a punctuation point that made the savage shiver.
The fifth time round, to avoid the accusing fingers, the giant dodged behind a smaller man, who dodged behind a woman, who promptly turned and ran, swinging in the wind behind her a bustle like a horse's tail that was her only garment.

Her flight was the touch that settled the decision in our favor.

We all began to do a mumbo-jumbo dance around Coutlass, and in five seconds more the whole armed party was in full retreat, holding their spears behind them as some sort of protection against magic.
"After that," said Coutlass proudly, "will you still dismiss me from your party, gentlemen ?" "You've got to go and find Brown's cattle and return them to him!" Fred answered firmly.

But we none of us felt like sending him packing until he was better fed and some provision could be made for his safety on the road.

It was wonderful, the number of excuses that flocked through my mind for befriending the ruffian, and later on I found it was the same with Fred and Will.