Living with them, in a state of armed neutrality, were three or four savage-looking cattle dogs, who honoured the strangers with deep growls, not condescending to bark.
Charlie pulled up in front of the house, and cooeed.

A Chinaman put his head out of the kitchen door, smiled blandly, said "'Ello!" and retired.
Gordon and Carew unsaddled the horses, put the hobbles on, and carried all the gear into the house.

By this time the Chinee had donned a dirty calico jacket, and began in silence to put some knives, forks, and pannikins on the table.
"Where's the old man ?" roared Charlie, as if he thought the Chinee were deaf.
"No more," he replied.
"Don't understand any English, eh ?" "No more," said he.
Just then a tramping of hoofs was heard; and looking out of the back door they saw, about two hundred yards away, a large horse-yard, over which hung a cloud of dust.

Under the dust were signs of a struggle.
"He's in the yard," said Charlie.

"Let's go up." The cloud of dust shifted from place to place, and out of it came a medley of weird oaths, the dull thudding of a waddy, and the heavy breathing of men and animals in combat.