For instance, when Tom O’Brien (eldest son of ‘Brombee’) made his intention known of scaring the teacher out of Dead Finish, from Mandy came the few words of warning and the present of the old gun and some ammunition. Thus it happened that one night, when awakened by eerie yells from his lonely slumber, the teacher looked out and saw a wild figure clad in skins, and with a pair of bullock’s horns spreading from its head, he felt no whit dismayed. Capering and shouting round the hut under the dim moonlight went the weird thing, enough in that desolate spot to make even a brave man shudder with the uncanny grotesqueness of it. But presently there was a report—a cloud of smoke, and a flash out of the little window, and with a scream the thing dropped, then got up again, and ran swiftly out of sight. ‘Caught him fair smack, ye did,’ said Mandy, afterwards. ‘Them pellets o’ coarse salt touched ’im up properly. He don’t set down now without lookin’ fer pillers. Tom won’t try no more gammonin’ to be a yahoo. He’s full ’s a tick ov sich sport, he is.’ Other attempts were from time to time made to frighten Cruppy out of the district, but they were of no avail. The holidays were approaching, and he had made up his mind to hold out at least until then in hopes of getting a shift from Dead Finish. But one night, in melancholy mood, watching a piece of salt beef boil, and leaning over every now and again to take the scum off the pot, he heard the tramp of horses outside. Opening the door cautiously, he saw Mandy riding her own pony _en cavalier_, and leading another one ready saddled. ‘Come along,’ she said, without dismounting. ‘They’re on their tails proper now. Wanter git the corn shelled for Tuberville. No more schoolin’ fer the kids. They’re a-goin’ to put the set on ye to-night, hut an’ all. Pap, and Brombee, an’ the Simmses, an’ Pringles, an’ the whole push is out. They got four teams o’ bullocks an’ all the ropes an’ chains in the country, an’ they’re a-goin’ to hyste school an’ you over the sidin’. It’ll be just one! two! three! an’ wallop ye all goes! Roll up yer swag slippy an’ come along.’ Cruppy, seeing at once that a crisis, not altogether unexpected, had arrived, did as he was told. ‘Now,’ said Mandy, leading the way into a dense clump of peppermint suckers, ‘le’s wait an’ see the fun. They reckoned as how, sleepin’ so sound, you wouldn’t know nothin’ till you struck bottom in the crik. But they’re euchred agin.’ As the night wore on noises broke its stillness, and dark forms moved athwart the little open space, whilst from far below in the gully came the faint clank of chains and the muffled tramp of cattle. ‘Look,’ whispered Mandy admiringly, ‘ain’t they cunnin’? There’s Pap, an’ ole Brombee, an’ young Tom, a-sneakin’ the big rope roun’ the hut. You’d niver ha’ woke, sleepin’ sound as ye does.’