'Here is someone,' whispered Fork Lightning.
Sure enough, a pedestrian could be dimly discerned approaching from the direction of the toll-gate.
'To yer horses! commanded Red Hand.
'Why, it's a woman,' said Peterson.
'Who cares?'
'Thought bushrangers never did nothin' to the women?'
'Oh,' said Dick, 'that's on'y when they're young an' pretty. If this one's young an' pretty I'll 'polo gise, an' it'll be all right. There ain't no reason not to bail 'em up when they're big an' strong an' able to take care o' themselves.'
This seemed quite reasonable to the gang, and they saw as the lady approached that her size did not give her any claim upon their gallantry. She was very tall and stout. In point of fact she was the woman who had driven through Waddy on the day after the goat raid, calling down infamy on the township.
'Bail up!' cried Red Hand.
Phil, Ted, and Peterson rode up in front, barring the way. Red Hand and Fork Lightning approached from either side, and all presented pistols. The woman backed away a few paces, staring at the goat-mounted, masked apparitions that seemed to have started out of the ground under her very nose, but the bushrangers followed her up.