the horse, and the fencing party.

Dave took the iron-bark chip, ran along the bed of the water-course
into the scrub, raced up the siding behind the bushes, got safely,
though without breathing, across the exposed space, and brought the tree
into line between him and the inspector, who was talking to the fencers.
Then he began to work quickly down the slope towards the tree
(which was a thin one), keeping it in line, his arms close to his sides,
and working, as it were, down the trunk of the tree, as if the fencing party
were kangaroos and Dave was trying to get a shot at them.
The inspector, by-the-bye, had a habit of glancing now and then
in the direction of his horse, as though under the impression
that it was flighty and restless and inclined to bolt on opportunity.
It was an anxious moment for all parties concerned -- except the inspector.
They didn't want HIM to be perturbed. And, just as Dave
reached the foot of the tree, the inspector finished what he had to say
to the fencers, turned, and started to walk briskly back to his horse.
There was a thunderstorm coming. Now was the critical moment --
there were certain prearranged signals between Dave's party and the fencers
which might have interested the inspector, but none to meet a case like this.

Jack Bentley gasped, and started forward with an idea
of intercepting the inspector and holding him for a few minutes
in bogus conversation. Inspirations come to one at a critical moment,
and it flashed on Jack's mind to send Andy instead. Andy looked
as innocent and guileless as he was, but was uncomfortable
in the vicinity of "funny business", and must have an honest excuse.
"Not that that mattered," commented Jack afterwards; "it would have
taken the inspector ten minutes to get at what Andy was driving at,
whatever it was."