There's Ben after some still, and there's Tommy Prince back at the bamboos firing at something.

Firing this way, too, damn him! Look at Ben!" Far away on the plain, like puppets in the distance, went the swiftly gliding figures of man and horse.

In front of them dimly-seen objects tore through the grass; every now and again out went an arm, there was a spurt of smoke, and another buffalo fell.

The blacks and the Chinaman were away behind, gathered in a cluster, skinning the first beast killed, while the pack-horses cropped the grass and bit at the flies.
Considine was nowhere to be seen.
"Let's go back and see what Tommy is up to," said the shooter.

"He's a hard case, is Tommy.