He otl'y bellered like a bullock, an' kep' on follerin'.

We pretended we wasn't goin' nowhere, but he just hung round an' couldn't be fooled.' Dick approached the old man threateningly.
'Clear out!' he said.
Gable put up a defensive elbow and backed away, knuckling his eye piteously the while.
'Are you goin' ?' cried Dick, and kicked Gable just as he would have kicked any inconvenient and mutinous youngster in the same case.
'You look out whatcher doin',' muttered the old man, skipping about to avoid the second kick.

I'll get someone what'll show you,' he added darkly.
Dick ran at him with a big stick, but Gable only retreated a few yards.
He threw stones, knocking up the dust about the old man's feet, and Gable hopped and skipped with the agility of a kid; but after each attack he returned humbly to the heels of the party like a too faithful dog.
'Better let him come, I s'pose,' said Dick at last.

'Come on, nuisance! Gamble jigged up, radiant, and grinning all over his face.
Red Hand selected a suitable clump of saplings about half a mile from the toll-bar, and the gang secreted themselves and made preparation for the first attack.

They carried their 'cartridges' loose in small bags hung from their belts, in which were thrust three or four of the bone-barrelled pistols.