This was how she ended up in Australia. Elisa was now unconscious on the ground when she was found by a group of aborigines. She was shivering because she was suffering from a sleep tremor. She was probably having a nightmare about her sister. She was also deeply thirsty. Some of the aborigines had compassion for her when they saw her wounded head, which had been wounded by Mad Dog's fist. Some aboriginals viewed her with suspicion and argued that they should leave her there to die. "This woman is just another invader," shouted one of the aboriginals. "Why shouldn't we leave her to die?" But that aboriginal was rebuked by an aboriginal elder. "We must take her to our campsite, and give her food, drink, and a better place to rest," said that aboriginal elder to the others. "We are not savages." Some aboriginal women came up to Elisa and carried her away to their campsite.
Meanwhile, Hans entered a large, but cheaply made house in the woods. He carried a basket filled with damper, water, and cheese. Mad Dog and the members of the gang were playing a certain game when Hans entered the house. The game was called TOSS THE DWARF, and it involved a dwarf being tossed against a mattress placed on the floor. This game could only be played because one of the members of Mad Dog's gang was a dwarf. That dwarf would receive several injuries each time the game was played. Mad Dog grabbed the dwarf, walked around 10 meters away from the mattress, and tossed the dwarf. The dwarf flew across the room and landed on the mattress. Even though the mattress was soft, the dwarf that was tossed still ended up with injuries. The bushrangers laughed and clapped their hands when Mad Dog tossed the dwarf onto the mattress.
All the bushrangers in the building seemed to find the practice of dwarf tossing quite fun, except Hans and a certain poet. That poet appeared to be quite distressed about all of this, so that poet rose from where he was sitting and walked towards Mad Dog. "Mad Dog, you're getting better at this game all the time," cried one of the bushrangers, slapping Mad Dog on the back. "10 meters is a record." "Well, dwarf tossing is my forte, mate," boasted Mad Dog. "There's nothing I like quite as much as a good dwarf tossing."
Hans saw the dwarf being tossed around and wondered if he should tell Mad Dog and the others to stop tossing the dwarf around. Hans decided not to do it. What difference would it make anyway? Mad Dog would never listen to him. Besides, part of him thought the game was very funny. It was the poet who rebuked Mad Dog for his shameful actions. "Please stop tossing that poor dwarf around," shouted the poet to the bullies in a loud voice. Mad Dog was furious when the poet stood up to him. "Have you forgotten your place?" barked Mad Dog, like a mad dog. "You work for me, but you're also expendable to me, and so is your family."
"Its lunchtime," Hans said to the gang members in order to diffuse the tension of the situation. The poet walked over to the dwarf, held out his hand, and helped the dwarf get up. Mad Dog Morgan took a look inside the basket that Hans carried, and was not impressed by the contents of Hans' basket. Neither were the other members of the group who were waiting for Hans. "Why is there no beer in this basket?" roared Mad Dog to Hans. "Only cavemen drink beer," answered Hans. Actually, Hans didn't buy beer because he wanted to cut down on costs, otherwise he would have bought heaps of it. "Watch your mouth, Hans!" whined Mad Dog, smashing a fist the wall. "I've long considered shooting you. What is going on with this country? Why can't you drink beautiful wheat-based beer like a civilized person?" Mad Dog took the basket from Hans, placed it on a blanket that was lying on the floor, and sat down on the floor next to the other members of his gang.
There were a total of seven people sitting down to eat. Mad Dog tried counting the members of the band with his fingers, as if he forgot how many people were in his gang of convicts. Hans thought it was funny that Mad Dog found counting to be so hard, so he struggled to hold back a smirk. Hans sat between Mad Dog, and a vertically challenged member of the gang called Banjo the dwarf, who also started to smirk because of Mad Dog's stupidity. Like most members of the gang, Banjo also had facial hair. He had a goatee. He also had thick, dark red, bushy eyebrows that were also arched. Banjo had brown skin, but he also had dark red eyebrows because he was of mixed race. Banjo definitely looked villainous because of these eyebrows. He was half Scottish.
Mad Dog glared at them, so Banjo and Hans stopped smirking. "Why didn't you buy any kangaroo meat for us?" shouted Banjo, leaning close to Hans. "Who eats kangaroo?" replied Hans. "Kangaroos are weird, and they're not weird in a good way." "It's not about you, Hans," said a frustrated Banjo. "Why can't you think about the kangaroo eaters here?" Mad Dog tossed Hans a bag full of gold coins. "Count them, and do not lose a single coin," he said, looking at Hans suspiciously as if he did not trust him at all. "If even one coin is missing when you return this bag to me, you will receive a pounding." Hans nodded fearfully, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Mad Dog had certainly wizened up because not that long ago Hans would freely be able to steal from the moneybag without Mad Dog suspecting him. Hans counted the coins and recorded the information on a piece of paper. He reached out a hand to pilfer a coin, but Mad Dog turned and looked at him. Hans was basically Mad Dog's treasurer. Mad Dog hired him because he knew how to handle financial stuff.
Mad Dog took a loaf of flat damper and broke it in two. He smiled, turned to one side and handed one half of the damper to the man sitting next to him, and said, "Take it, and divide it evenly among yourselves." Mad Dog shoved one half of the damper into his mouth, and ate it like a mad dog. The man who was sitting next to him was dressed in formal clothing. Even though he was dressed in formal clothing, no one could say that he was rich. That was because he wore poorly made sandals on his feet. These sandals looked as if they could fall apart any moment now. He sat on the floor, broke off a bit of the bread, and shared it with the other bushrangers. He had a notepad by his side. There he was jotting down verses of poetry. He had come up with these verses himself. His name was Andrew Patterson, and he was more than just a bushranger.
He was also a poet, who had an extremely tough time publishing his poems. After all, writing bush poetry is a very competitive thing in Australia. Banjo sat next to Hans, and noticed that Mad Dog did not divide the bread evenly. Mad Dog clearly intended to keep at least half of the damper for himself, yet he still asked the members of the gang to divide the damper evenly. It was because of reasons like this that Banjo did not respect Mad Dog. There were many other reasons Banjo had no respect for Mad Dog. After all, it is hard to respect someone who obtains pleasure from literally tossing you around.
"Hey, Mad Dog," shouted Patterson, rising up from the floor. "I want out of your gang, so I can spend more time with my family." Mad Dog sneered and said, "You will never leave my gang until you have paid me the money that you owe me." "I promise that I will give you the money tonight," promised Patterson nervously, taking a pocket watch out of his pocket and looking at it. "Come to the place where I do part-time work, and I will give you the money you so desire." Then Patterson rose from the floor, and began to walk towards the doorway. Mad Dog rose up and blocked Patterson's path. "Now where do you think you're going?" Mad Dog asked Patterson as if he was suspicious of Patterson. "I have other work to do at the local tavern," Patterson told him truthfully. Mad Dog moved out of Patterson's way, so Patterson opened the door in an attempt to exit the building. "Is the tavern closed?" asked Mad Dog.
"Yes, it is," replied Andrew Patterson. "I just have to clean the tavern tables." Mad Dog grinned a terrifying grin when he heard this. "This is perfect," Mad Dog shouted to Patterson. "Then you can rob the tavern. Steal all the money you can get your hands on and give the money to me. Then, I will let you leave my gang."
"But what will my boss say?"
Andrew shook his head in despair. Mad Dog crept closer to Andrew and grabbed him by the neck. "This is your last chance to make things right for me," shouted Mad Dog angrily. "At least do it for your stupid family." Then Mad Dog turned and pointed at Hans. "Follow Andrew," Mad Dog ordered. "Make sure that he doesn't rat us out to the authorities." Hans stood up and said, "But I'm just the treasurer!" "Yes," warned Mad Dog. "But if you don't do what I say, then you will be nothing but a dead corpse."
Hans walked with Andrew towards the local tavern. On the way, Andrew began to ask Hans a few questions. "Why don't you ever stop Mad Dog from literally pushing your friend Banjo around?" he asked.
"What can I do? Mad Dog is the one with the power. I swear that things will change once he is out of the picture. Once he is out of the picture, I will have all the power. Then no one will ever harm Banjo ever again."
"Does power really mean that much to you?" Andrew asked in disbelief. "I was the youngest of 13 children," said Hans, raising his voice. "When I was young, I had to settle for scraps while my siblings could eat as much as they wanted. You have to learn to take what you can in life."
Andrew used a key to unlock the door of the tavern. Once they arrived inside the tavern, Andrew took out a large hammer from the cupboard and smashed all the furniture. He also smashed a window in order to make it look like a burglar had broken into the building.
Andrew grabbed a chest that was full of money, and threw it onto the ground as hard as he could. He pounded the chest with a hammer in order to break the chest into pieces. Silver and gold coins flew out of the broken chest, and onto the ground. Andrew put all the money in a bag to give to Hans. There was just one more thing Andrew needed to do before he could give the moneybag to Hans. "There is just one thing I need you to do before I can give you the moneybag," Andrew said to Hans. "What is that thing you need to do?" asked Hans. "I need you to hit me," answered Andrew. "What are you talking about?" said Hans, who was scratching his forehead.
"I want you to injure me so I can make myself look like the victim of a burglary," said Andrew. "I'm robbing this place where I work so I can give the money to Mad Dog. If anyone suspects that I helped rob this place, I'll be sent to prison." Hans nodded, having understood what Andrew meant, and he punched Andrew hard on the face. Andrew collapsed to the ground with a thud. His face was bruised, but not bleeding. Hans held the moneybag in his hand and opened the door of the tavern. Outside the door stood a dozen troopers. They were staring intently at Hans. Troopers are also referred to as the police. "Help, there's been a robbery!" lied Andrew, pointing directly at Hans. "There's a robber inside this bar, who is trying to steal money from this place. I am his hostage, and I think this robber works for Mad Dog Morgan." The troopers were smart enough to realize what was going on, so they said, "We know what's really going on! Drop the act! We know that you orchestrated the burglary, Andrew."