I haven't forgotten yet," he said.

"I'm only sorry you're not a trifle older, but it will teach Sergeant Stimson the folly of sending a lad to deal with me.

Well, walk straight into the bush, and remember that the muzzle of the rifle is scarcely three feet behind you!" Trooper Shannon did so with black rage in his heart, and his empty hands at his sides.

He was a police trooper, and a bushman born, and knew that the rustlers' laden horses would find some difficulty in remounting the steep trail and could not escape to left or right, once they were entangled amidst the trees.

Then it would be time to give the alarm, and go down with a bullet in his body, or by some contrivance evade the deadly rifle and come to grips with his enemy.
He also knew Lance Courthorne, and remembering how the lash had seamed his face, expected no pity.