Sawing away at the wooden structure upon which he was perched sat Wolfgang himself, whilst the man beside him was busily engaged in removing the thatch piece by piece.
Kate waited to see no more. Raising her rifle to her shoulder she fired—fired straight at the leading bushranger.
She saw him stagger and roll—roll down the sloping roof, and fall with a dull thud to the ground below.
She could only lean against the wall, and hide her face in her trembling hands. Was he dead? Had she killed him? Or had the fall off the house completed the deed?
She felt a hand on her arm. Becky was standing beside her. "Give me the rifle," she breathed. "I can load it."
With a faint feeling of surprise at her heart, Kate handed her the weapon with fingers slightly unsteady. She received it back in silence, and mounted to her place of observation again.
Wolfgang's companion was crouching. His attitude struck Kate disagreeably. His back was turned to her. What was he looking at?
She strained her eyes, and descried, galloping at the top of his speed, Black Bounce, and on his back was Phil Wentworth. Behind him at breakneck pace came six of the shearers—tall, brawny men, the very sight of whom inspired courage.
Wentworth's rifle was raised. A shot rang through the air. Then another. And yet another. Bang! bang! bang! What had happened?
Kate, straining her eyes, only knew that just as the manager's rifle went off, the bushranger on the roof had fired at him, not, however, before Kate's shot disabled him in the arm, thus preventing his aim from covering the manager.