Finally the horses gathered themselves together in the friendly shelter
of some scrub, and as the woman sought safety among them, the Maluka's
rifle rang out, and a charging bull went down before it. Then out of the
thick of the uproar Sambo came full gallop, with a bull at his horse's
heels, and Dan full gallop behind the bull, bringing his rifle to his
shoulder as he galloped, and as all three galloped madly on Dan fired, and
the bull pitching blindly forward, Sambo wheeled, and he and Dan galloped
back to the mob to meet another charging outlaw and deal with it.
Then in quick succession from all sides of the mob bulls darted out with
riders at THEIR heels, or riders shot forward with bulls at their heels,
until the mob looked like a great spoked wheel revolving on its own axis.
Bull after bull went down before the rifles, old Roper, with the Maluka
riding him, standing like a rock under fire; and then, just as the mob
was quieting down, a wild scrub cow with a half-grown calf at her heels
shot out of the mob and headed straight for the pack team, Dan galloping
beside her and cracking thunderclaps out of a stock-whip. Flash and I
scuttled to shelter, and Dan, bending the cow back to the mob, shouted as
he passed by, at full gallop: "Here you are, missus; thought you might
like a drop of milk."
For another five minutes the mob was "held" to steady them a bit before
starting, and then, just as all seemed in order, one of the prostrate
bulls staggered to its feet - anything but dead; and as a yell went up
"Look out, boss! look out!" Roper sprang forward in obedience to the
spurs, just too late to miss a sudden, mad lunge from the wounded outlaw,
and the next moment the bull was down with a few more shots in him, and
Roper was receiving a tribute that only he could command.
With that surging mob of cattle beside them, the Maluka and Dan had
dismounted, and were trying to staunch the flow of blood, while black
boys gathered round, and Jack and the Dandy, satisfied that the injuries
were not "too serious," were leaning over from their saddles
congratulating the old horse on having "got off so easy." The wound
fortunately, was in the thigh, and just a clean deep punch for, as by a
miracle, the bull's horn had missed all tendons and as the old campaigner
was led away for treatmen he disdained even to limp, and was well within
a fortnight.
"Passing the time of day with Jack," Dan called the scrimmage; as we left
the field of battle and looking back we found that already the Bromli
kites were closing in and sinking and settling earthwards towards the
crows who were impatiently waiting our departure - waiting to convert the
erst raging scrub bulls into white, bleaching bones.
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