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.

"Thank God, thank God, we are saved!" she cried.

And now that the danger was over, Kate sank down upon the floor of the
"observatory," and sobbed as if her heart would break.

Becky--her bravery returning as the sound of horses' hoofs struck upon
her ear--slipped from the room, leaving Mrs. Grieves and Cicely to play
the part of consolers to her young mistress.

It appeared that a trumped-up story, purporting to come from one of his
friends in the township, had caused Phil Wentworth to go there that
morning, and that on his way he overtook Sam Griffiths, who grumpily
asked him why he should have been ordered to the township when his hands
were so full of work at home. This led the young manager to scent
something wrong, and telling Griffiths to follow him home quickly he
rode straight back to the shed, and getting some of the shearers to
accompany him, made straight trac