The surprise of the boys, at the sudden and bloody termination of the fight, may be better imagined than described. They stared aghast for some moments at the spectacle, too dazed to move or speak. Even the hardened bushman, George, was moved.
"Well, of all the fights I ever seed, this licks creation; it’s better nor cock-fightin’. Be gosh, ’twas a grand fight to a finish!"
The trapper now busies himself with the scalping-knife, and, as the boys stand around, a feeling of sadness rises within as they contemplate the slain.
"Poor brutes!" said Sandy feelingly, "I’ve a notion, lads, that they deserved a better fate."
"The boss wouldn’t agree to that as fur as the dorgs is concerned. As fer the emu, he’s neither good nor bad," grunted the old man.
"Well, after all," broke in Joe, "it’s their nature, as old Simpson is always preaching to us in school. They’re not to blame for following their instincts. By jings! there’s no coward’s blood in these poor brutes,—they’re as brave as brave."
But such moralising was beyond Nosey George.
"Emus is sight enough in a way, an’ only eats grass an’ roots,—but dingos! they’re vermin, an’ any death’s good enough fur them. By the hokey!" exclaimed he as he looked at the trap; "I’m blamed if here isn’t the blessed paw!"
It was true. The wretched beast’s foot was evidently so lacerated and broken by its efforts to escape, and in dragging the trap, that when it made the last and fatal spring the imprisoned paw parted from the leg in the very act, and that severance enabled it to reach the emu’s neck. Having secured the trap and the scalp, the group retraced their steps to where they had hitched the horses.
The haul proved successful beyond measure. To secure four dingoes in one scoop was a great stroke of luck. Not so much luck, on reflection, as skilful management. An amateur might have set a hundred traps with seeming skill and not have bagged a dog. No one save a trapper like George could trap with any degree of certainty.
"I s’pose you’ll bag the balance to-night," remarked Tom to the trapper when they had remounted.
"No jolly fear! Never catch any more along this line."
"Why, d’yer think a dingo’s no sense? Be gosh! all the calves in creation wuddent tempt what’s left of the vermin to come along this track again. Wish we’d a’ got the old dog, though."