citement and
with dancing eyes and jigging limbs, cried out 'Oh, crickey!' with such
gusto that the laughter broke loose again in defiance of all restraint,
and was maintained until the chairman of the bench, himself almost
apoplectic from his efforts to swallow his mirth, arose and talked of
clearing the court; then the crowd, fearful of missing the fun to come,
quietened in a few seconds and the case was resumed.

'You thrashed the young rip, Mrs. Cox,' said the lawyer. 'You did well. A
pity you did not serve them all alike and save us the folly of this most
ridiculous case.'

'I did grab another,' said the witness, 'an' I--' Mrs. Cox repeated her
eloquent pantomime.

'Oh, crickey!' cried Gable. 'Oh, I say, here's a lark!'

'Silence in court,' squealed the asthmatical policeman.

'Excellent,' said the lawyer. 'And so, madam, you drove off this
desperate and bloodthirsty gang by simply slapping them all round?'

'Yes, after I'd been assaulted with a goat,' cried the witness, flushing
with a recollection of her wrongs and shaking a formidable fist at the
prisoners. 'After I'd been assaulted with a goat sooled on by one o' the
bla'guards.'

The lawyer spoke a few soothing words:

'You deserve the thanks of the community, Mrs. Cox, for the businesslike
way in which you suppressed this diabolical gang. Your method is in
pleasing contrast with the ridiculous effeminacy of the previous
witnesses. I have no doubt you would treat an adult bushranger in exactly
the same way.'

'Or a lawyer either,' said Mrs. Cox, detecting sarcasm.

The case was practically decided when Mrs. Cox stepped down. The bench
desired to have some evidence as to Gable's character, and leading
residents of Waddy described his infirmity, and spoke of him as
unentirely harmless and innocent old man. The case was dismissed; but the
chairman, in acquitting the prisoners, took occasion to remind their
parents that if the excellent example set by Mrs. Cox were followed by
them all, it would probably tend to the moral advantage of the boys and
the benefit of society at large.

The return to Waddy was something in the nature of a triumphal march in
which the late prisoners figured as heroes, but they lost importance
immediately after reaching the township. A new topic of great interest
had sprung up during the absence of the crowd; news had arrived of Harry
Hardy's recovery, and it was known that his injuries were not the result
of a fall of reef,