Lieutenant Wingate approached at a brisk trot. By now the rest of the Overton girls, having found their courage, had crept from the stagecoach and were hiding behind it, peering out through troubled eyes. Elfreda finally stepped out and walked slowly toward the scene of activity, but halted a little distance from it, not wishing to detract Grace’s attention from her work.
“Please search the fellow sitting here and remove his weapons, Hippy. Also, please see if I have killed the one on the ground there. I can’t quite bring myself to touch either of them,” said Grace.
The man referred to was not dead, but he was unconscious.
“He will be out of his trance soon, I think,” announced Hippy after a brief diagnosis. “He has a dandy scalp wound. Good work, Brown Eyes. Any more of his kind looking for trouble?”
“I think not. Have you searched each one, Hippy?”
“Yes.” Lieutenant Wingate was still working over the unconscious bandit. “He is coming around now.”
“Elfreda!”
“Yes, Grace.”
“Where are the girls?”
“Hiding behind the coach until the smoke of battle has cleared.”