“Have you seen their ambush, and how many there are!” asked Gashford.
“Niver a wan have I seen, and I’ve only a gineral notion o’ their whereabouts.”
“How then can you lead us?”
“Obey orders, an’ you’ll see, sor. I’m in command to-night. If ye don’t choose to foller, ye’ll have to do the best ye can widout me.”
“Lead on, then,” cried Gashford, half amused and half angered by the man’s behaviour.
Flinders led the way straight to Gashford’s hut where, as he anticipated, the man named Bill had silently collected most of the able-bodied men of the camp, all armed to the teeth. He at once desired Gashford to put them in fighting order and lead them. When they were ready he went off at a rapid pace towards the stable before mentioned.
“They should be hereabouts, Muster Gashford,” he said, in a low voice, “so git yer troops ready for action.”
“What do ye mean?” growled Gashford.
To this Flinders made no reply, but turning to Westly and Brixton, who stood close at his side, whispered them to meet him at the stable before the fight was quite over.
He then put his hand to his mouth and uttered three hoots like an owl.