"The wrong man!" she exclaimed.
In another moment a horseman dashed into the alley, and the queen of the ranch, with smoking revolver in her hand, stood undecided.
"You? I thought so," said a voice as a man leaned over the saddle and clutched her arm.
There was no answer, but with a quick recoil Belle Demona broke from the hand and started back.
"Not yet," she said, and then a figure flew down the alley and distanced the horseman, to escape in a small doorway some distance from the scene.
Old Broadbrim, who was the horseman, turned back and looked into the white face of Merle.
For once in her life, at least, her hand had trembled, and Belle Demona, instead of finishing the career of the Yankee, had sent a bullet through Merle's shoulder.
Old Broadbrim and Dick Waters, whom we left with their captive on the way from Round Robin Ranch, had been overtaken by the men of the bush, eager to capture their master.
The Quaker detective had met them with his accustomed coolness, and he and Dick had heroically faced the band.
Broadbrim was not to be baffled even in Australia, and, with a pistol at Merle's head, he coolly informed the guardsmen that if they attempted to enforce their demand he would send a bullet to the murderer's brain.