There were groans and cat-calls.

Along with the derisive "Joeys!" the rebel diggers hurled any term of abuse that came to their lips.
"The dolly mops! The skunks! The bushrangers!--Oh, damn 'em, damn 'em! ...

damn their bloody eyes!" "It's Rooshia--that's what it is!" said an oldish man darkly.
The Commissioner, a horse-faced, solemn man with brown side whiskers, let the reins droop on his mare's neck and sat unwinking in the tumult.
His mien was copied by his staff.

Only one of them, a very young boy who was new to the colony and his post, changed colour under his gaudy cap, went from white to pink and from pink to white again; while at each fresh insult he gave a perceptible start, and gazed dumbfounded at his chief's insensitive back.
The "bloodhounds" had begun to track their prey.

Rounding up, with a skill born of long practice, they drove the diggers before them towards the centre of the Flat.