It had lasted only seconds, Bert was dancing on the edge of the slippery slope and mocking the vanquished who had slid impotently to the bottom.

But Billy took charge.
"Come on, you girls," he commanded.

"Get onto yourself, Bert.

We got to get onta this.

We can't fight an army." He led the retreat, holding Saxon's arm, and Bert, giggling and jubilant, brought up the rear with an indignant Mary who protested vainly in his unheeding ears.
For a hundred yards they ran and twisted through the trees, and then, no signs of pursuit appearing, they slowed down to a dignified saunter.
Bert, the trouble-seeker, pricked his ears to the muffled sound of blows and sobs, and stepped aside to investigate.
"Oh! look what I've found!" he called.
They joined him on the edge of a dry ditch and looked down.