Red Hand and the faithful Ted dragged Jacker from the hands of the enemy, and the gang fled to a safe distance, and watched the shadowy form of the woman as she gathered herself up and shook the dust out of her dress.

Then for two minutes she stood and addressed them through the darkness in strident tones and language that would have shocked an old drover or a railway ganger.
'Bushrangin' ain't up to much,' whimpered Ted, rubbing himself with both hands.
'It's rot!' said Jacker fiercely.
Peterson and Doon muttered words of approval, and Dick felt that four pairs of reproachful eyes were turned upon him.

Gable was still hopping about ecstatically murmuring 'Crickey! Oh, crickey!' as he had been doing all through the encounter.
'How'd I know ?' said Dick in self-defence.

'You fellers oughter had better sense'n to let her get hold o' you.' 'You started it!' groaned Ted.
'Pretty lot o' bushrangers you are, anyway,' Dick sneered, 'howlin' 'cause a woman gave you a bit of a doin'.' 'How' d you like it ?' asked Jacker sullenly.
Dick disdained to reply; indeed his attention was occupied with more important things.

Out of the night came the sound of galloping hoofs and calling voices.