It rapidly grew louder, and when it resolved itself into such a smashing of undergrowth as might have been made by a body of men, Saunders sprang up and waved his rifle toward where he supposed the jumpers to be.
"You'd better git," he said.

"The boys from the settlement will head you off inside five minutes." There was no answer, and it appeared that the jumpers had already departed as silently as possible.

A little later the men from the settlement came limping in, and the foremost of them clustered round Devine, who sat just outside the fern, while Saunders, whose face showed a trifle drawn in the moonlight, stood still clutching the rifle.
"What's the matter?
You're not looking pert, the pair of you," said one of them.
"Give me a cigar, if you've got one," said Devine.

"Saunders will tell you about the thing.

I've done quite enough talking for one night." Saunders told the story tersely, and afterward snapped the magazine of his rifle up and down with a dramatic gesture.
"Held them off with that, and not a blame ca'tridge in the thing," he said..