When we returned to the clearing, we surveyed the battle field. The horses had bolted to the southern end of the grassy plain and then grouped together at the forest’s edge. One horse lay in agony with a broken front leg. The bush-ranger Roy lay close by, dead with a broken neck. Even in death, his face held a sneer. Ben too was lying dead, the grass blood-soaked about him.
Ted and Red were unconscious but breathing. Within a few minutes, Dougal had shot the injured horse, and helped Old Uncle to drag Red over to Ted so that they lay side by side.
We each had some water, and then waited for the two bush-rangers to regain consciousness.
Red was the first to stir. He eventually opened his eyes, and he seemed oddly resigned. His expression showed that he was aware of us, but he did not spe
