Front matter (continued 9)

A warrant had been issued for his arrest for his attack on Sir Frederick Pottinger and the police in New South Wales, and the Wild Scotchman was therefore extradited to stand his trial in New South Wales on a charge of shooting with intent to do grievous bodily harm. His arrival in Sydney was coincident with the resignation of that officer as already related. Sir Frederick, however, was summoned to appear against him, and it was on his journey to Sydney for this purpose that the accident happened which put an end to Sir Frederick's life and the prosecution against the Wild Scotchman at the same time.

The Wild Scotchman was returned to Queensland in charge of the police. He was sent from Brisbane to Port Denison, and was there committed for trial and remanded to Rockhampton, the nearest assize town, for that purpose. He was shipped on board the steamer Diamantina in charge of Constable Maher. He was accommodated with leg irons, his hands being so small that he could easily slip them through any ordinary handcuffs. In fact he boasted freely that the handcuffs to hold him "had not yet been made." When the steamer reached Mackay he was seated reading near the galley, but he had behaved so quietly all through the earlier part of the passage that the constable did not think it necessary to disturb him by taking him below. There was, of course, the usual bustle while the steamer was at the wharf, and Constable Maher appears to have lost sight of his prisoner, and did not miss him until the vessel had been an hour at sea. Then a search was instituted, but no Wild Scotchman could be found, and as the Maryborough Chronicle remarked, "Constable Maher reached Rockhampton minus his prisoner."

How he got ashore and removed his leg-irons was a mystery which was not solved for some time. However, his escape did not profit him much. He went to a paddock on the Kolongo station with the intention of stealing a horse to enable him to stick up the mail coach, and "make a rise." But a party was organised by Mr. Hall, and he was recaptured without attaining his purpose. This time greater care was exercised by the police to whom he was handed over, and he reached Rockhampton, where he was tried on several charges of highway robbery and sentenced to twenty years' penal servitude.

There can be no doubt that young Macpherson, like many other high-spirited young men, was led away by the glamour which gathered round the bushrangers Hall, Gilbert, and their young associates; and which appears to have appealed so strongly to the youth of certain temperaments as to blind them to the enormity of the crimes committed by these bushrangers. The quiet bush life in Australia afforded them no escape valve by which their desire for excitement might be worked off. They did not pause to realise that their fight against society was hopeless from the beginning, and that in taking to the bush they were setting themselves, almost single handed, against the whole force of public opinion in the colony. Had they lived in Europe they might, perhaps, have enlisted in the army and thus been able to do something to satisfy their cravings for notoriety and adventure in a legitimate way. In Australia, however, there was no standing army, and even if there had been there was nothing for it to do in the colonies, and no chance of its ever being employed outside, where hard blows were to be struck and glory won. It may be true that even soldiers do not always find congenial work for them to do, and that many of them have lived very humdrum lives, but there is always the hope that they may be called on to defend their country, or to fight for its aggrandisement, and this hope is sufficient to induce them to enlist, when they are brought under the control of the disciplinarian and kept out of mischief until their boyish enthusiasm subsides and they are old enough to enter into the business of life. However, Queensland's "only bushranger," the Wild Scotchman, was captured after a brief but exciting career of about eighteen months, and the colony has not been troubled by bushrangers since.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Captain Moonlite; The "Reverend Gentleman" Robs the Bank, and Nearly Makes his Escape; He Breaks out of Ballarat Gaol; He Becomes a Reformed Character; He Sticks Up Wantabadgery Station; A Desperate Battle with the Police; Moonlite is Captured; His Young Companions in Crime; Sentenced to Death; The Wild Horse Hunters Turn Bushrangers; An Abortive Attempt to Rob a Bank.

From about June, 1872, to April, 1878, or nearly six years, Australia was free from bushrangers. With the exception of the two or three robberies in the far west of New South Wales, so far west as to be almost out of the colony, the roads were safe; travellers journeyed in all directions without fear of molestation; and the public, as well as the authorities, began to congratulate themselves once more on having at length definitely stamped out the scourge of bushranging. Since the shooting of Thunderbolt and the capture of Power, there had been no sign of a recrudescence of the crime, and bushranging was beginning to be referred to as belonging to a past age. But this peaceful condition of the country was not always to continue. The old leaven of convictism so frequently referred to, had not as yet been so completely eliminated as the public and the authorities hoped and believed. Reports began to spread about in 1878 that robberies had been committed in the neighbourhood where Power had so long set the police at defiance, and shortly afterwards the name of Ned Kelly began to be associated with them. Ned Kelly is still spoken of as the last of the bushrangers, and as his death closes the story, it may be as well to deal with some other bushrangers who finished their careers before "the gentleman of the Strathbogie Ranges." The most remarkable of these was George Scott, alias Captain Moonlite. His story belongs partly to the former era, but I have reserved it in order to make it more complete than would have been possible had it been divided. Scott was born in the North of Ireland, and emigrated to Victoria. He went to the diggings at a time when agents from New Zealand were endeavouring to raise a corps in Victoria for service against the Maoris. He enlisted and fought through the war in 1861-65, being wounded in the leg. On his return to Victoria he showed a strong desire to join the Church, and as he was well educated and a good speaker he was appointed lay reader at Bacchus Marsh, with a view to his being ordained a minister of the Church of England, when the Bishop of Melbourne should consider him worthy of the charge. His duties as lay reader were to travel round the settlement, to read prayers and conduct services, his head quarters being in the town at Mount Egerton. His chief friends here were the manager of the Union Bank and the schoolmaster. He soon came to be respected and liked in the district. One night, however, a masked man walked into the living apartments connected with the bank and ordered the manager, who was alone, to bail up. The manager recognised the voice and asked him whether he thought this a suitable practical joke for a clergyman. Scott replied that he would soon find it was no joke. He threatened to shoot the manager unless he surrendered and did as he was ordered. He then gagged the manager, took him across the street to the school-house, and compelled him to sign the following statement:—"Captain Moonlite has stuck me up and robbed the bank." There was no one at the school-house, Scott having apparently timed his visit when he knew the school would be empty. Leaving the paper on the desk in the school-house, Scott took the manager back to the bank, tied him hand and foot, and then took about £1000 worth in notes and coin from the safe. The schoolmaster found the paper lying on the desk when he went to open the school next morning, and at first did not know what to make of it. He handed it to the police, who, on going to the bank, found the manager gagged and tied. Having heard his story the police considered it absurd, and arrested the manager and schoolmaster as having been jointly concerned in the crime. The idea of charging the minister, as Scott was generally called, appeared to be preposterous, the more especially as Scott was very active in trying to find incriminating evidence against his quondam friends. Being intimately acquainted with the lives led by the two men, he was able to supply the police with several facts, true or false, which were considered strong circumstantial proofs of their guilt. They were committed for trial, Scott being bound over as a witness against them. He did not wait for the trial, however, but went to Sydney, where he put up at one of the leading hotels and spent money lavishly. He represented himself as a wealthy visitor to the colonies travelling for pleasure, and spoke of his intention to visit some of the South Sea Islands. For this purpose he purchased a yacht, for which he paid partly in cash and partly by a cheque for £150. This cheque was returned by the bank on which it was drawn as valueless, and the man who had sold him the yacht immediately communicated with the police. Scott had already set sail, but the police followed him in a steam launch and caught him just outside the Heads. He was brought back and tried for fraud and was sent to gaol for eighteen months.

Even the flight of Scott from Mount Egerton did not at first convince the police and others of his guilt in connection with the bank robbery, but without his evidence the case against the bank manager and the schoolmaster was so weak that it broke down, and they were discharged. Later on a warrant was issued for the arrest of Scott, alias Captain Moonlite, but he was then in gaol in New South Wales. On his release he was rearrested, and extradited to Victoria to be tried for the bank robbery. He was taken to Ballarat, and lodged in the newly-built gaol, a most substantial structure of blue stone (basalt). The building stands in a large courtyard, surrounded by a wall twenty-five feet high, also constructed of basalt. Looked at from the outside it appears to be one of the most hopeless places for a prisoner to escape from imaginable, but Scott had been educated as an engineer, and therefore what might have been impossible for another man was not so for him. There was a wooden partition which divided one cell into two. Scott was imprisoned awaiting trial in one portion of the cell, and a man named Dermoodie in the other portion. Scott cut through this partition, and with the aid of Dermoodie contrived to take the lock off the door. The two men walked into the corridor and hid in a dark corner until the warder came round, when Scott sprang on him, grasped him by the throat, and with the assistance of Dermoodie gagged and tied him. Scott then took the keys, and having shut the warder into the cell, with the door closed, so that any other warder in passing it would not notice that it had been opened, walked down the passage. With the keys he opened four more cells and liberated the prisoners in them. He made them take the blankets from their beds and follow him, after carefully closing the doors again. He opened the door leading into the great yard and went to a dark corner under the wall where he tore the blankets into strips and tied them together to form a rope. Scott then stood up against the wall. One of the other men climbed up and stood on his shoulders, another climbed up and stood on his, and so on until the last, Dermoodie, was able to take the rope and sit on the wall. With the aid of the rope each man was enabled to go up in turn to where Dermoodie was, and was then lowered down on the other side. Here they stood on each others' shoulders as before, to enable Dermoodie to climb down, then the others followed in turn, and they were free. The south-eastern corner of the gaol wall stands near the edge of the hill where the ground slopes sharply down to Golden Gully. The six men went down the slope to a safe distance, and then Scott said they must part, as they would have a better chance of getting away separately than if they all kept together. The four men liberated by Scott to help him over the wall were speedily caught, some in Ballarat and the others not far away, but as they were not bushrangers we have nothing further to do with them. Scott and Dermoodie went away together and slept in the bush. Scott said they must have money, and proposed to rob a bank, which he said could be easily done, but Dermoodie said he had only been arrested for a small offence, and he had made his case bad enough by escaping. He did not wish to make it worse. Scott called him a coward, a contemptible cur, and said he should never leave that spot alive. He gave him five minutes to say his prayers. He was in a terrible rage, but before the five minutes were over he said that Dermoodie was not worth killing, gave him a few kicks and blows, and ordered him out of his sight, an order which was quickly obeyed. Dermoodie went back to Ballarat and was recaptured a day or two after his escape, while Scott was found about a week later in a hut near Bendigo. He was tried, and was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment for the bank robbery, and to one years' imprisonment in irons for breaking gaol.

Scott behaved in the most exemplary manner while he was in Pentridge, and contrived to convince both the chaplain and the gaol authorities that he intended to live "on the square" for the future. He was allowed all the remission possible under the rules for good conduct, and was released in March, 1879. He was a forcible and fluent speaker, and he made a living by open-air lecturing in Melbourne on prison discipline and other subjects. About this time the Kelly gang was at the zenith of its career, when suddenly Scott disappeared from his usual haunts in Melbourne. Probably his imagination was stirred by the reports current about the Kellys; perhaps he was prompted by jealousy of their doings; or, perhaps, by a sudden desire for notoriety. However this may be, he was gone.

On Saturday, November 15th, 1879, at about three p.m., six armed men rode up to Mr. C.F.J. Macdonald's station at Wantabadgery, on the Murrumbidgee River, New South Wales, and bailed up all the men at work there. Nineteen men were collected from various places about the station and marched into the dining-room of Mr. Macdonald's house. Mr. Miles was then ordered to unlock the door of the store, and the robbers selected a quantity of clothing and other goods which they required or fancied. They were engaged in packing these on some spare horses when Mr. Weir, of Eurongilly, and a schoolmaster rode up, and were called on to bail up. The schoolmaster refused, and one of the bushrangers loudly declared that he would shoot him. Hearing the altercation, the leader of the gang came out of the store, seized the schoolmaster by the leg, and dragged him from the horse, saying at the same time, "You—— old fool, get down and do as you're told. I'm Moonlite." He pushed the schoolmaster along, and forced him to go into the dining-room where the other men were sitting.

Towards evening Mr. Baynes, the manager of the station, returned from a back station, and was bailed up and conducted to the dining-room. The women had been told that they would not be interfered with, and were ordered to cook dinner. When it was ready it was served in the dining-room, where all partook of the food, the bushrangers sitting down in turn, while two remained on guard. After the meal some grog, obtained from the station store, was served round, and Mr. Macdonald was permitted to retire to bed. The others remained at the table all night, the bushrangers taking it in turn to sleep like the others with their heads on the table.

Breakfast on the following (Sunday) morning was taken as supper had been on the previous evening. During the meal Mr. Baynes said to one of the young bushrangers who was seated near him, "This is bad work." Moonlite, who was sitting on the other side of the large table, heard him and jumped up. He charged Mr. Baynes with trying to tamper with his men, and swore that he would shoot him. He seemed to be in a paroxysm of rage, and flourished his revolver about in a dangerous manner. The women, however, clustered round, assuring him that Mr. Baynes did not mean any harm, and begging him to spare him. In a few minutes Scott's rage had evaporated, and he sat down again and went on with his meal apparently oblivious of Mr. Baynes's presence. During the morning several men came to the station, and were bailed up and marched into the dining-room. One of these men was leading a young filly which had only recently been broken in. Scott admired her very much and said, "She'll just suit me." He led her round and then tried to mount her, but she was very skittish and would not let him. This threw him into a passion and he became violent, thus frightening the filly and making her more ungovernable. At length he swore that if she did not stand still he would shoot her, and as she continued to rear and try to get away he drew his revolver and sent a bullet through her head. When his fit of passion had passed off, Moonlite said he was sorry he had killed the mare, but she should have stood still when he told her. He then ordered Lindon, the groom, to put the horses into the buggy, and, taking Mr. Alexander Macdonald as a hostage, drove to the house of the superintendent of the station, Mr. Reid. Here he obtained a Whitworth rifle and some ammunition. He then forced Mr. and Mrs. Reid to mount the buggy, and drove away to Paterson's Australian Arms Hotel, which he stuck up, taking two shot guns and a revolver. He ordered Mr. and Mrs. Paterson to walk to the station, and, to ensure obedience, put their two little children into the buggy and drove away. On the return journey to the station he stuck up seven more men, and compelled them to march in front of the buggy to the station, and go into the dining-room.

As Moonlite jumped down from the buggy he caught sight of Mr. Baynes standing on the verandah. He rushed across to him, and charged him with attempting to corrupt his men. He ordered Mr. Baynes to be pinioned with a fishing line, and had him lifted into the buggy, saying "I'll drive under that tree and you can tie the rope to the limb, and we'll leave this gentlemen hanging there." A rope was tied round Mr. Baynes's neck ready, but the women, seeing these preparations for a tragedy, again gathered round Moonlite and begged him to let Mr. Baynes go. At first he refused, saying "The gentleman does not deserve it," but gradually he became less violent, and finally ordered Baynes to be untied. Then he called a muster of all the men in the dining-room and counted thirty-five.

After having given orders as to the custody of his prisoners, Moonlite mounted a horse and rode round, going for some distance along the road on each side of the homestead. He met a man coming from the adjoining station, Eurongilly, where he worked. "Hulloa," cried Moonlite, "where are you going with that pistol?" "To fight the bushrangers," replied the man. "By G——," exclaimed Scott, "you've found them, here we are. Hand over that revolver and we'll try you for unlawfully carrying firearms." The man was compelled to obey, and was taken into the dining-room. Moonlite took his seat as judge, having appointed two of his mates and two of the station hands as jury, and the trial was carried out as nearly in the orthodox manner as circumstances would permit. The charge was read by the clerk, witnesses were heard and cross-examined; the judge summed up, and the verdict returned was "Not guilty." Scott turned to the prisoner and said, "You may think yourself—— lucky. If the jury had found you guilty, I'd have given you five minutes to live." He then ordered the prisoner to be discharged, and said it was dinner time.

In the afternoon the vigilance of the bushrangers relaxed so far that Alexander Macdonald contrived to make his escape. He got a horse and rode to Wagga Wagga, twenty-five miles away. He informed the police of what had taken place, and Constables Howe, Hedley, Williamson, and Johns saddled their horses and started back with him to Wantabadgery, where they arrived at four a.m. on Monday morning. The robbers were still in possession, and the police hoped to find them unprepared, but this was not the case, and the police retreated to Mr. James Beveridge's station, Tarrandera Park, where they obtained fresh horses. By this time five more troopers had arrived from Gundagai, sixty-five miles away, and the police decided that they were strong enough to begin the attack. The people who had been detained in the dining-room speedily made their escape and collected on a ridge a short distance from the scene of battle, other persons, attracted by the sound of the firing, rode up from the stations round until some three hundred spectators of the fight were collected on the ridge, but they left the police to do the fighting unaided. Constable Bowen, who had already shot a bushranger in the Thunderbolt rising, was the first to make any impression, and a great cheer went up as one of Moonlite's men was seen to fall. The bushrangers went into the house, and the police took shelter in a hut some distance away. They advanced very cautiously, and Constable Bowen shot a second man, falling wounded himself almost at the same time. Some time afterwards Constable Carroll, who had crept close up to the verandah, in spite of the heavy fusilade which was kept up, shot a third bushranger, and soon after the other three came out and surrendered. Moonlite asked Mr. Wise to go for a doctor to attend to Nesbit, saying "Poor fellow! He was shot trying to save me."

James Nesbit, alias Lyons, who was shot dead, was born in Melbourne and was twenty-three years of age. Augustus or Gus Wernicke (also from Melbourne), aged nineteen, died a few days after the battle. Graham Bennett, also born in Victoria, was twenty years of age. He was wounded in the arm and recovered. Thomas Williams, alias Jones, nineteen years old, was born in Ballarat, Victoria. Thomas Rogan was born at Hay, New South Wales, but had been living for some years in Melbourne, where he became acquainted with Scott. Scott, the leader, was thirty-seven years of age.

Constable Bowen died of his wound on the Sunday following the fight, and the prisoners were tried on the charge of murdering him. The trial took place at Darlinghurst Court House, Sydney, and lasted for four days. A verdict of guilty was returned, but the jury recommended Rogan, Bennett, and Williams to mercy on account of their youth and the belief that they had been led into crime by Scott. In consequence of this the sentences on Bennett and Williams were commuted to imprisonment for life, but although some pressure was brought to bear on the Governor, Lord Augustus Loftus, the executive declined to extend mercy to Rogan. He and Scott were therefore hung in Darlinghurst gaol.

One of the witnesses at the trial, named Ah Goon, said that he had been robbed of a gold watch and chain valued at £25. When taking these and some money from him, Scott said he was "a—— Chinaman who took the bread out of the mouths of honest workers." It is worthy of note also that on the second day of the trial of the prisoners at Darlinghurst, the Melbourne Argus reported that James P. Nesbitt, father of the recently killed bushranger, was charged at the City Police Court, Melbourne, with having thrashed and abused his wife, the mother of the bushranger. He was ordered to be bound over to keep the peace for six months under a penalty of £25, and as the money was not forthcoming, he was sent to gaol.

The gallantry of the police in breaking up this gang of bushrangers at so early a stage in its career was duly recognised. The police authorities voted a reward of £100 to Constable Carroll, £75 to Constable Curran, and £50 each to the other constables engaged in the fight. A public monument was erected to Constable Bowen, and a pension was settled on his wife, while the Government undertook the care and education of his children. The police were paraded in Sydney; the Inspector General, Mr. E. Fosbery, read a letter from the Colonial Secretary (the late Sir Henry Parkes) publicly thanking the police constables for their services. After this ceremony, the purses containing the rewards were presented and acknowledged.

It is impossible to divide the bushranging of this epoch so as to keep the story of the different colonies concerned separate as I have in the previous epochs, because both the Moonlite and the Kelly gang operated in both Victoria and New South Wales. The small number of bushrangers who worked separately from these gangs are not worth dividing and may be dealt with here.

In February, 1879, three young men who had been engaged in running in and capturing warrigal horses on the lower Murrumbidgee, thought, perhaps, that that employment was less profitable than bushranging, and took to the roads. Their names were Thomas Gorman (twenty-one), Charles Jones (twenty), and William Kaye (nineteen). They bailed up a few travellers on the road between Balranald and Ivanhoe, and were then joined by William Hobbs, otherwise known as Hoppy Bill, because he had a crooked leg and arm. Hobbs had been employed as cook at the Hatfield sheep station, and was about thirty years of age. On the 21st they stuck up Mr. Grainger's store at Hatfield, about sixty miles north of Balranald, and stole £50 worth of clothing and other goods, two horses, with saddles and bridles. On the following day they stopped a hawker, saying "Bail up. We're the Kellys," and took £40 worth of goods and jewellery from his waggon. On the 23rd they arrived at Till Till station, and bailed up twenty-five persons there. Mrs. Crombie, wife of the manager, was very much frightened at first, but they soothed her by telling her that they "wouldn't hurt any one." They took six horses, a quantity of ammunition, and some other articles from the store. When they left they said that they intended to stick up Woolpagerie station.

In the meantime Mr. John Thomas Day, storeman at Grainger's, travelled as fast as his horse could go to Moulamein, and informed the police of the sticking up of the store. He was sworn in as a special constable, and accompanied by troopers Beresford and Powers and a black tracker, started in pursuit. They rode one hundred and eighty miles between nine a.m. on Sunday and seven p.m. on Monday, changing horses at Clare, where they came on the tracks of the bushrangers. On their arrival at Kilferra Mr. Casey supplied them with remounts, and joined in the chase. The tracks led down to the Four Mile Dam, where the pursuers came on the bushrangers in camp preparing their supper. As they went forward the bushrangers came to meet them, crying out, "Bail up." The police replied, "Surrender in the Queen's name." Both parties fired, and Constable Powers fell wounded in the shoulder. The bushrangers then threw down their arms and surrendered. They were tried on April 19th for shooting with intent to murder, and were found guilty. When asked if they had anything to urge why sentence of death should not be passed on them, Hobbs was the only one who spoke, and he said, "God forgive me if I have to die." Sentences of death were pronounced, but these were subsequently commuted to imprisonment for life.

On Wednesday, November 5th, 1879, an attempt was made to stick up the Bank of Australasia at Moe in the Gippsland district of Victoria. At first it was supposed that the Kellys had paid a visit to this part of the colony. The bank was a wooden building, situated about fifty yards from the Moe railway station, and nearly opposite the Selector's Arms Hotel. The bank closed at the usual time and nothing occurred until about nine o'clock p.m. At that time Mr. Hector Munro, the manager, was sitting in his parlour behind the bank chamber reading. He was alone in the house, his wife having gone up the main street to the grocer's shop. There was a knock at the door, and on Mr. Munro opening it, a man with a white cap over his head, with holes to look through cut in it, tried to force his way in. Munro endeavoured to slam the door to, but the white cap individual had got his foot inside and managed to push his way in. "Who are you? What do you want?" cried Munro, but no answer was returned. Munro still held the man and endeavoured to drag him out of the house. The white cap drew a pistol, but Munro clutched him by the arm, and in the struggle the pistol went off without doing any damage, except to the wall. Then another white-capped man appeared and struck Munro on the head. At the same time several people rushed over from the hotel to ascertain what the shooting was about, and the two would-be robbers bolted. Sergeant Irwin and two constables, with Dr. Archibald Macdonald and several other civilians, followed the bushrangers. They picked up two felt hats and a serge mask in the yard, not far from the back door of the bank. It was, however, too dark to do anything further that night, but at daylight the tracks were carefully followed, and shortly before six a.m. Constable Beck and Dr. Macdonald found two men sitting on the Trafalgar railway platform. The doctor covered them with his rifle while the constable handcuffed them. The men said that the constable was making a great mistake, as they were unacquainted with each other, having arrived there by different routes. They were waiting for the train from Melbourne to go further up country to look for work. Constable Beck replied, "Oh, that's all right; I'll stand the racket. What's your names?" As they hesitated, he continued, "Now, no humbug; I know you. You don't live far away, and if you give false names you'll soon be bowled out." They then admitted that they were brothers, and that their names were Robert and James Shanks. Their ages were twenty-three and twenty-one years respectively. Two revolvers were found in their carpet bags, and the white caps were picked up not far from the platform. They were convicted of having attempted to rob the bank, and assaulted the manager.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Kelly Gang; Horse-stealing, a Great Industry of the District; Faking the Brands; Assault on Constable Fitzpatrick; The Bush Telegraphs; Murder of Sergeant Kennedy and Constables Scanlan and Lonergan; Sticking up of the Faithfull Creek Station; Robbery of the National Bank at Euroa; A Big Haul.

In the early years of Australian settlement bushranging was one of the normal conditions in the colonies, and therefore attracted little notice. Even the exploits of such heroes of the roads as Mike Howe, Brady, the Jewboy, and Jackey Jackey are very briefly related in the Press, and, with the exception of the first-named, about whom Mr. James Bonwick has written a romance, very little has been heard of them since the age in which they lived. In the next epoch the doings of the bushrangers were dwarfed in the public estimation by the sensational reports of the gold finds, and although in consequence of the growth of population and the great increase in the number of newspapers their actions received a wider publicity than those of their predecessors the accounts of them are still meagre. The sensational inauguration of the next era by the Gardiner gang—the sticking up and robbing of the Government Gold Escort—attracted wider notice to the bushrangers of that epoch, and some notice of them appears even in the English Press. But the notoriety of even the most celebrated of the bushrangers of that epoch was nothing as compared with that of the Kelly gang, about whom more columns of newspaper matter have been printed than of all the bushrangers together in the earlier epochs. Several histories of the Kelly gang have also been published, the best known, perhaps, being those of Mr. Superintendent Hare, who was for a time in charge of the police who were trying to capture the bushrangers, and Mr. John McWhirter, the reporter of the Melbourne Age, who accompanied the police in their final and successful effort to suppress the gang. Mr. McWhirter's "History" is largely compiled from the reports which had appeared in the Age, and Mr. Hare is also largely indebted to the same source. The Kellys have also inspired more than one drama, although the subject is not a favourite one with moralists, and the representation of bushranging dramas has not met with favour from a large section of the community. In this connection we may note the influence of modern science. The stage of the performances of the earlier bushrangers was confined to their own locality. They were rarely heard of outside the colony in which they appeared. In the next stage the telegraph carried news of their performances all over Australia, and occasionally a stray newspaper paragraph was quoted in England. With the Kellys, however, it was different. Notices of their exploits were even sent across the ocean by cable, and the British public naturally desired to hear more of these daring robbers, and therefore extracts from the newspapers of Australia appeared more frequently in the English Press than at any former epoch. The consequence is that we can reconstruct the history of the Kellys more easily than that of any other bushranging family. The father of Ned Kelly was transported from Ireland. The maiden name of his wife was Ellen Quinn. The eldest son, Ned, was born at Wallan Wallan in 1854. Jim was born in 1856, and Dan in 1861. There were besides four daughters—namely, Mrs. Gunn, Mrs. Skillian, and Kate and Grace Kelly. In 1871, the second son, James, then about fifteen years of age, was sentenced to five years' imprisonment on two charges of horse-stealing. On his discharge in 1876 he went to New South Wales and stuck up a number of people. He was captured almost immediately, and sent to gaol for ten years. Edward, commonly known as Ned Kelly, was arrested in 1870 and charged with having assisted Power in one of his numerous bushranging exploits, but was acquitted, as none of the witnesses could swear to his identity. It is said that on more than one occasion he took care of Power's horses while that worthy was engaged in robbing. In 1871 he was sent to gaol for three years for horse-stealing.

Horse-stealing appears to have been the principal industry of the district, as cattle-duffing had been of the Wedden Mountain district, and of Manaro, and the Kellys, the Harts, the Byrnes, and others in this district, were quite as adept in "faking" brands as the Lowrys, the O'Meallys, or the Clarkes had been. But science had made advances even in these mountains since the era of the Gardiner gang. In earlier times the brands of horses and cattle were "faked"—i.e., altered so as to represent something different from what they were intended to do—by branding over them and adding to them. There were some expert blacksmiths among the cattle-duffers, and these would make a brand to fit over an old brand and completely change its character. For instance, a simple A brand might have a circle burned round it thus—(A), or it might have another letter conjoined to it thus—A-B. The manner in which brands might be "faked" was endless, and when it was impossible to "fake" a brand it was "blotched," or burned over, so that the original design could not be recognised. The Kellys and their companions in the Warby and Strathbogie ranges, however, did not go to the trouble of making special brands to "fake" other brands. They obtained the same results by the use of iodine, which burned such marks into the skins of the stolen animals as were desired. The plan adopted was to make raids into distant parts, collect a mob of horses, drive them into an inaccessible ravine in the mountains, "fake" their brands and keep them until the sores had healed and the brands looked old. Then the animals, having got fat in the meantime, were driven to market and sold without fear of detection. Horses stolen in the north—some even from across the New South Wales border—were driven south to Melbourne, Ballarat, Geelong, or some other large town, and sold openly in the public sale yards; while those stolen in the south were driven to some northern market, sometimes being taken as far as Sydney.

In 1876, Daniel, the youngest of the Kelly boys, was sent to gaol for three months for having taken part in a house-breaking robbery in conjunction with the Lloyds, who were connected by marriage with the Kellys. In the following year, 1887, warrants were issued for his arrest on six charges of horse-stealing, but he could not be found. On April 15th, 1878, Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick, having learned that Dan Kelly was at home, went to the Kellys' hut at Greta, to arrest him. "This hut," said the Benalla Standard, "was a well-known trysting-place for the bushranger Power." The constable rode up, and seeing Dan standing at the door said to him, "You're my prisoner." "All right," replied Dan nonchalantly. The constable dismounted and hitched his horse to a sapling, when Dan said that he had been riding all day and had had nothing to eat. After some conversation the constable agreed to wait while Dan had some food, before taking him to Benalla, and Dan went in and sat down. As he did so Mrs. Kelly said to Fitzpatrick, "You won't take Dan out o' this to-night." "Shut up, mother," exclaimed Dan, "it's all right." The old woman continued to grumble in an undertone, while she placed bread and meat and tea on the table. Presently she asked the constable, "Have you got a warrant?" "I've got a telegram, and that's as good," replied Fitzpatrick. The constable was standing at the door, and Dan, who took his arrest coolly, as if it was a mere matter of course, told his mother not to make a row about it, as it did not matter, and then invited the constable to take some food. Fitzpatrick accepted the invitation, and went in. As he seated himself Mrs. Kelly remarked, "If my son Ned was here, he'd throw you out of the window." Dan was looking out of the window at the time, and he exclaimed "Here he is." Fitzpatrick very naturally turned to look, and Dan pounced on to him. Mrs. Kelly seized a heavy garden spade which had been used as a fire shovel and was much damaged, and struck Fitzpatrick a furious blow on the head, making a dint in his helmet. Fitzpatrick fell down, and several people hearing the noise rushed in. Among them were Ned Kelly, William Skillian (husband of one of the Kelly girls), and William Williams, alias Bricky. Ned Kelly held a revolver in his hand which was still smoking, and Fitzpatrick was wounded in the arm. Ned said, "I'm sorry I fired. You're the civilest—— trap I've seen." He offered to cut the bullet out and bind up the wound, but Fitzpatrick refused to let him touch it. Then Ned said that the constable could not be allowed to go away until the bullet was cut out and he had promised not to tell how he got wounded. "You can say your pistol went off by accident," he said. "Tell him if he does tell he won't live long after," cried Mrs. Kelly. The old woman was again told to "shut up." Fitzpatrick, knowing the men he had to deal with, promised not to say who had wounded him, and took his knife from his pocket. He cut a small gash, over where the bullet was, and squeezed it out. Then he twisted his handkerchief round the wound and said it was "all right." Ned Kelly picked up the bullet and put it away on a shelf, and a few minutes later the constable was allowed to mount his horse and go. On the following day a party of troopers went to the Eleven Mile Creek and arrested Mrs. Ellen Kelly, William Skillian, and William Williams. A search was made for Ned and Dan Kelly, but they could not be found. Skillian and Williams, when brought up for trial for their share in this assault, declared that they only came in after the shot was fired, and had taken no part whatever in the scrimmage. They were, however, sentenced to six years' imprisonment, while Mrs. Kelly was sent to gaol for three years.

It was generally understood that Ned and Dan Kelly were in hiding somewhere in the neighbourhood, and some twenty-five troopers with black trackers were told off to search for them. Fourteen men, residents in the neighbourhood, were arrested under the Outlawry Act, on suspicion that they had harboured or aided and abetted the bushrangers, and were remanded from week to week for some three months, while the police were seeking for evidence against them. Mr. Zincke, who appeared at the police court on behalf of the prisoners, protested against this arbitrary act of the police, and urged that it was illegal to detain as prisoners persons against whom no specific charge had been made. "If the Kellys were caught," he said, "these men would be told to go about their business." He stated his belief that the Outlawry Act would not warrant these proceedings and that the law was being strained in a dangerous manner. The magistrates on the bench generally listened to his pleadings with exemplary patience and then granted the remand asked for by the police. There can be very little doubt that Mr. Zincke was perfectly justified in saying that these proceedings were illegal, but the magistrates of Beechworth and other parts of the disturbed district had learned by experience that, as long as the sympathisers and "bush telegraphs" were at liberty, the police had very little chance of capturing the bushrangers, and so, during the whole time that the Kelly gang was in existence, a number of people were kept locked up because they were suspected of giving food or assistance to the outlaws and, more important than all, of giving the bushrangers information as to the movements of the police. The number of persons thus held under restraint varied from month to month. Sometimes a few were discharged while others took their places. The largest number in the police cells at any one time was thirty-five. But the authorities after all acted in a half-hearted and inefficient manner. They arrested only men and boys, while the women and girls were left free to assist the bushrangers as they pleased, and the women were quite as active and quite as efficient in affording assistance and information to the bushrangers as the men could have possibly been.

On October 26th one of the parties of police in search of the outlaws went into camp at Stringy Bark Creek, about eight miles on the King River side of the Wombat Range. Sergeant Kennedy was supposed to have received information from a friend of the Kellys as to their whereabouts, and thus to have penetrated nearly to their hiding place. The friend who had informed the police, however, also told the Kellys of their approach. The country is densely covered with stringy bark trees and scrub, and is almost impenetrable. Sergeant Kennedy and Constable Scanlan had gone into the scrub to endeavour to ascertain the whereabouts of the two Kellys, while Constables Lonergan and McIntyre were left in charge of the camp. Lonergan was employed in making tea ready for the two who were away, when four men on horseback came up and cried "Bail up! put up your hands." Lonergan made a jump to get behind a tree, putting his hand to his belt for a pistol at the same time, and was shot. He cried out "O Christ, I'm shot," and fell dead. Constable McIntyre was sitting down. He jumped up, but having no weapon upon him at the time he surrendered. Ned Kelly walked to Lonergan's body and examined it. Then he rose, and said, "What a pity! Why didn't the—— fool surrender?" He afterwards said that it was all Constable Fitzpatrick's fault. "He'd no right to lag my mother and brother-in-law for nothing." Ned Kelly ordered Constable McIntyre to sit down as if nothing had happened, and warned him that he would be shot at once if he "gave the office" to the sergeant. The bushrangers then hid themselves behind the trees. Sergeant Kennedy and Constable Scanlan rode up some time later, unconscious that anything had happened. When they came close McIntyre said, "Sergeant, we're surrounded. You'd better surrender." Scanlan laughed, and put his hand to his belt, when Ned Kelly fired at him and missed. Scanlan jumped off his horse and made for a gum tree, but was shot dead before he reached it. Kennedy wheeled his horse round and started at a gallop, but had gone only a few yards when he was brought down with a rifle bullet. His horse, frightened at the noise and the fall of its rider, dashed through the camp, and as it passed Constable McIntyre threw himself across its back. He got into the saddle, and urged it forward, when it was brought down, shot by a rifle bullet through the heart. McIntyre fell clear, and crawled into a patch of scrub. He found a wombat hole near at hand. He crept into it, and lay there, while he could hear the bushrangers walking round searching for him in the scrub, and swearing that they would "do for" him when they caught him. When it was quite dark he crawled out of his hole and walked twenty miles to Mansfield to inform the police of what had taken place.

Inspector Pewtress, with a party of police, started from Melbourne on Sunday, the 27th, in a special train, and soon reached the camp in the ranges. The bodies of Lonergan and Scanlan were lying as they had fallen not far from where the fire had been lighted, but that of Sergeant Kennedy could not be seen from the camp. It was not found until the 31st, owing to the density of the scrub around the little cleared patch, where the camp had been pitched. Three bullet wounds were found in it, and a cloak had been thrown over the face to protect it from dingoes or the weather. It was said that Ned Kelly had ridden to his camp to fetch the cloak to cover Kennedy with, because he considered him to be the bravest man he had ever met.

Rewards of £100 each had been offered by the Victorian Government for the capture of Ned and Dan Kelly. Now the rewards were increased to £500, while similar rewards were offered for Steve Hart (twenty years of age) and Joe Byrnes (nineteen years of age).

It was reported that on October 31st the Kellys had stuck up and robbed Neil Christian and other persons at Bungowanah, near Baumgarten's, on the Murray River, but as the whole of that country was under water, in consequence of a flood in the river at that time, this was discredited. The police asserted that the Kellys were somewhere in the mountains, but they searched the "Rat's Castle" and other hiding places without success.

On the 8th December a rough-looking bushman called at Younghusband's station, on Faithfull's Creek, and asked if the manager, Mr. Macaulay, was about? An old man named Fitzgerald, employed on the station, replied that the manager was away and would not return till morning. He asked the man if he could do anything for him? The traveller replied "No, it's of no consequence." He walked to the house and said to Mrs. Fitzgerald, "I'm Ned Kelly. You needn't be frightened, we only want food for ourselves and our horses." Seeing the man talking to his wife, Fitzgerald went to them, and Mrs. Fitzgerald said to him "This is Mr. Kelly. He wants some refreshments." By this time Ned had his revolver in his hand. Fitzgerald grasped the situation and replied "Well, if the gentleman wants refreshments he'll have to have them." Ned gave a whistle and the other three bushrangers came forward and Dan took their horses to the stables. Joe Byrnes took care of the Fitzgeralds, while Ned and Steve Hart went round and collected all the men at work on the station and locked them up in the store room. Shortly afterwards a man named Gloster, who had a store in Seymour and who frequently travelled round with a spring cart loaded with goods for sale at the farms and stations, came to the station for a bucket of water to make tea with, and Ned ordered him to bail up. Knowing that Gloster was of a determined character Fitzgerald shouted to him to advise him to "give in." "What for?" asked Gloster. "I'm Ned Kelly," exclaimed that hero. "I don't care a—— who you are," returned Gloster. At this moment Dan Kelly came up and threatened to shoot Gloster, but Ned forbade him, and Fitzgerald persuaded Gloster that resistance was useless and prevailed on him to surrender.

When Macaulay, the manager, came home he was also bailed up. "What's the good of your sticking up the station?" he asked, "you've better horses than we have and anything else you require you can have without all this nonsense." Ned said he had a purpose. After some conversation, during which Macaulay said he had no intention of interfering with them, Macaulay was permitted to remain free, but was closely watched to prevent him from sending for the police. The bushrangers then searched Gloster's cart, selected suits of clothes for themselves, and made very free with the bottles of scent and other small articles.

On the following day, the 11th December, 1878, Messrs. McDougal, Dudley, and Casement, in a spring cart, were about to pass through the gate over the level crossing of the railway, close to the station. Mr. Jennant, who was riding, dismounted to open the gate for the cart to pass through, when Ned Kelly, on horseback, cried "Surrender, or you will be shot." Another bushranger, Joe Byrnes, walked down quickly from the station to assist his mate if necessary. Mr. McDougal, taking them for troopers as they carried handcuffs in their hands, asked what right they had to arrest them in this manner, when Ned replied, "Shut up. I'll shoot you if you give me any cheek." "You wouldn't shoot an old man unarmed," exclaimed McDougal. "Not if you surrender quietly," replied Ned. They said they surrendered, and Byrnes opened the gate and told them to drive to the homestead. As they came up a station hand who was standing at the store door said, "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Edward Kelly." McDougal and his companions were not much surprised, as they had already begun to perceive that their captors were not troopers in plain clothes, as they had at first thought. The prisoners were taken into the store, the bushrangers telling them that the horses would be looked after.

The store-room was a long wooden building situated about twenty yards from the house. It had only one door and one window, both near together, so that it could easily be guarded. With so many men confined in it the air soon became foul, and the prisoners were allowed to come out in small batches to obtain some fresh air. Only the men were locked up, the women being left free and were not molested in any way.

At about three o'clock Ned Kelly asked Mr. Macaulay for a small cheque. Mr. Macaulay gave it to him. It was for £3. Joe Byrnes was left in charge of the station, while the others started away, Ned in Gloster's cart, Dan in McDougal's, and Hart on horseback. At about half-past four there was a knock at the door of the National Bank at Euroa, and when it was opened a man requested that a cheque might be cashed for him. The manager, Mr. Robert Scott, said it was after hours, and he could not open the bank again till morning. The man said it would inconvenience him greatly to have to call again, as he did not live in the town. He begged so hard that at length the manager consented to give him the money to oblige him. The manager opened the bank door, and as soon as they were inside the man said, "Put up your hands. I'm Ned Kelly." Taken by surprise, the manager was compelled to obey. The manager was forced to open the safe door and to hand over £1942 0s. 6d. in notes, gold, and silver, thirty-one ounces of smelted gold, five bags of cartridges, and two revolvers. There had been rumours that the Kellys intended to stick up a bank, and arms and ammunition had been sent from the head offices in Melbourne to most of the country branches. The National Bank at Euroa had been thus furnished, but in consequence of the cunning of the bushrangers the arms were useless. Mr. Scott had a loaded revolver on his table when Ned Kelly asked him to cash the cheque, but he was so unsuspicious of the character of his customer that he left it there when he went into the bank chamber. Having obtained all the money he could get Kelly turned to enter the private apartments, when Scott said, "If you go in there I'll strike you whatever the consequences may be." Steve Hart put his revolver to Scott's face and said "Keep back." Kelly laughed, and walked through the door. He went along the passage, and looked out of the back door into the yard. Then he returned and told Scott to go and put his horse into the buggy. "That's the work of the groom," said Scott, "but he happens to be away just now." "I'll do it myself," returned Ned, and went into the yard. When the horse was harnessed, Kelly said he was going to take the family out for a drive. He made Scott get into Gloster's cart, and Mrs. Scott and the child into the buggy. Dan Kelly and Hart came on behind. When they had gone out of the little street Scott asked Ned where they were going. "To Younghusband's," was the reply. "I'll drive," said Scott, "I know the road." "All right," replied Ned, handing him the reins. "But if you try any pranks, look out." Ned Kelly treated Mrs. Scott with great politeness, so that she said that she could never believe he was the bloodthirsty villain he had been represented to be.

The telegraph wires had been cut on each side of the station soon after their arrival, and while the main body of the robbers was gone to Euroa a train stopped close to the station to set down a line repairer named Watts. As the railway station was some distance away it was thought that the train had brought the police, and Byrnes prepared to defend himself. He shut all the men in the store, and charged them to keep quiet. When Watts came to the station to enquire how the break in the line had occurred and to obtain assistance Byrnes bailed him up, and told him that he could repair the line later on. Nothing of importance occurred after this until the return of Ned and his mates with the bank manager and the money.

During their drive together Ned Kelly told Scott that he was—— sorry that Sergeant Kennedy had been shot. He was a brave man. "But," he added, "I couldn't help it. The police ought to surrender when they are called on." He showed Scott the presentation gold watch which had once belonged to Kennedy and which he had taken from the body "to remember him by."

Soon after their return to the station they all had tea, Ned Kelly telling his prisoners that he would not detain them much longer. The meal was barely over when a train drew up opposite the station and whistled. Ned Kelly shouted "Hullo boys, here's a special with the—— bobbies. We'll fight 'em. We're ready for 'em, however many there may be." The driver waited for a few minutes and then the train went out. It was soon ascertained that Watts, the line repairer, had arranged for the train to pick him up after he had had time to repair the break, but owing to his being shut up in the station store he had neither repaired the line nor been able to inform the engine driver of the reason of his non-success. At about half-past seven, the prisoners were mustered and told to remain in the store for three hours. Scott took out his watch and asked "Eleven?" "No," replied Ned, "half-past. If any one leaves before, I'll hear of it and make it—— hot for him. I'll track him down and shoot him dead. You can't escape me." Byrnes turned to Scott and said "That looks like a—— good watch. Let's see it." Scott handed him the watch and the robber put it in his pocket. This was a signal to the other bushrangers. One took Macaulay's watch, and another asked McDougal for his. McDougal took it from his pocket and said "I should be sorry to lose it. It is a keepsake from my dead mother." "Is it," said Kelly, "then we'll not take it." Ned Kelly warned Macaulay that he held him responsible for the men. "If you let them go before the time," he said, "I'll shoot you like a—— dingo the first time I see you." Shortly afterwards the bushrangers mounted their horses, which had been feeding in the stables during the time the station was held, and rode away. The men were released from the store but were kept at the station for about three hours. Mr. and Mrs. Scott returned to Euroa in their buggy and telegraphed the news of the robbery as soon as possible, which was not before the next morning. Gloster rode off to inform the police at the nearest town, and the information as to this daring outrage was spread about by others who had been robbed.

CHAPTER XXX.

The Kellys Stick up the Town of Jerilderie; Robbery of the Bank of New South Wales; A Symposium in the Royal Hotel; A Three-days' Spree; "Hurrah for the Good Old Times of Morgan and Ben Hall"; the Robbers Take a Rest for a Year; The Kelly Sympathisers Again; The Kellys Reappear; Murder of Aaron Sherritt.

After the bank robbery the "gentlemen of the Strathbogie Ranges" again retired to their mountain fastnesses. Occasionally a paragraph in one of the local newspapers recorded the movements of the police or furnished a story about the black trackers, but these notices were necessarily very meagre, as the police declined to furnish any information as to their proceedings or intentions, because this would be of more use to the bushrangers than to any one else. For more than a month nothing reliable had been heard of them. Even the reports of the arrest and detention of numbers of "bush telegraphs" failed to attract any attention, and the Kelly gang had almost ceased to be spoken of, when suddenly the whole country was roused by the news that the bushrangers had stuck up the town of Jerilderie, in New South Wales. Jerilderie is situated on the Yanko Creek, not far from its junction with the Billabong, and at that time contained about 300 inhabitants, a bank, four public-houses, a post and telegraph office, and several churches, schools, and other buildings. The local police station and lock-up was near the outside of the town, and there were two officers—Constables Devine and Richards—stationed there. At midnight of February 8th, 1879, a man roused Constable Devine from his bed, and informed him that a row had taken place at Davidson's Hotel and a man had been killed. He exhorted the constable to "come quick." Constable Devine woke Constable Richards and both dressed as hastily as possible. When they came out they were confronted by Ned Kelly, revolver in hand, and ordered to "bail up." Not having their arms on them, and being taken completely by surprise, the two constables surrendered at once and were locked up in the cells. The bushrangers then compelled Mrs. Devine, who had also partially dressed, to hand over all arms and ammunition, and took possession of the lock-up, remaining quietly there till morning, their horses being placed in the police stables at the rear. It was Sunday morning, and as the Catholic church had not yet been finished, the court-house had been rented for religious purposes, and Mrs. Devine had been accustomed to clean up the place, set the temporary altar, and place the forms and chairs ready for mass. The bushrangers told her to perform her task as usual, after having extorted a promise from her that she would not mention their presence to any one, and to make certain of her keeping her word one of them, dressed as a constable, went with her to the court-house and stayed while she swept the floor and prepared the room. Then they returned to the lock-up, which was about one hundred yards from the court-house, and remained there all day, the bushrangers, arrayed in the constables' uniforms, sitting quietly in the guard-room. No doubt numbers of people passed and saw them, but no one had any suspicion that the bushrangers were in charge instead of the police.

Early on Monday morning Byrnes took two horses to the blacksmith's shop to be shod, and the blacksmith, feeling some doubt as to the bonâ-fides of the pseudo trooper, made a note of the brands on the horses. At about ten a.m. Ned and Dan Kelly, accompanied by Constable Richards, went to the Royal Hotel, the largest hotel in the town, where Richards formally introduced them to the proprietor, Mr. Cox. Ned informed Mr. Cox that he required the use of some rooms, as the gang intended sticking up the bank. He selected a large and a small room on the ground floor, near the bar, and conducted the few men about at the time into the large room, where they were ordered to remain until given permission to depart. Dan Kelly was placed on guard at the door to keep order and prevent anybody from escaping, and was instructed to shoot the first man who refused to do as he was told. On Mr. Cox passing his word, as a gentleman, not to mention their presence to any one who should come in, he was permitted to take charge of the bar as usual, and was given to understand that he would be held responsible for the discretion of the women and servants. Any one of them whom he could not trust was to be sent into the large room. The preliminaries were arranged so unostentatiously and quietly, that no rumour of the presence of the bushrangers had yet been heard, and as customers dropped into the hotel they were taken into the big room, and told to remain on penalty of death.

Having made these arrangements, Ned Kelly walked into the hotel yard to reconnoitre. There was a detached kitchen here, and the rear of the bank of New South Wales was only a few yards from the rear of this kitchen. The bank faced on another street, and there was no dividing fence between the yard at the back of the bank and the hotel yard. Hart was placed on watch near the kitchen, while Byrnes entered the back door of the bank. Mr. Living, the teller, was in the bank chamber. He was not surprised to hear a man enter by the back door, as Mr. Cox and other customers frequently came in that way, it being a short cut from the hotel. Suddenly, however, Byrnes came to the counter, pointed a revolver at Living's head, and cried out, "I'm Kelly, keep quiet." Living held his hands above his head. "Where's your pistols?" asked Byrnes. "I've got none," replied Living. Byrnes then ordered Living and the accountant Mackie to "Come over to the hotel." They came from behind the counter and did as they were told, Byrnes following them. When they reached the door of the large room Dan Kelly inquired, "Where's Tarleton?" "In his room," replied Living. "Then go and fetch him and no—— nonsense," said Dan. Living went back to the bank, but being unable to find the manager in his rooms began to fear that something might have happened to him. He was about to return to the hotel to inform the Kellys that he could not find the manager, when he heard a splashing. He went to the bathroom and knocked. Tarleton had been for a forty-mile ride that morning, and had just returned and was having a wash. When he opened the door and was informed that the town was in possession of the Kelly gang, and the bank was stuck up, he laughed heartily, believing it to be a huge joke. Living assured him that it was not a laughing matter, but he was still incredulous. However, he dressed and went to the hotel, where he soon discovered that what he had deemed impossible had come to pass. The three bank officials were placed in the large room. Tarleton, who took a seat next to Constable Richards, whispered, "I can knock Hart down, shall I?" "What's the good?" replied the constable, "Dan Kelly's there, and he'd shoot you down at once."

Ned Kelly had hitherto been walking round as a sort of inspector-general of the proceedings and giving orders. He now entered the room and ordered drinks to be served all round. Then he made a speech in which he blamed Constable Fitzpatrick for all that had occurred. "I wasn't within a hundred miles of Greta when he was shot," said Ned, "and up to then I'd never killed a man in my life." He went on to say that he had stolen two hundred and eighty horses from Whitby's station, and had sold them at Baumgarten's. He took out a revolver and exclaimed: "This was Lonergan's! I took it from him. The gun I shot him with was a crooked, worn-out thing, not worth picking up. I shot him because he threatened my mother and my sister if they refused to tell where Ned Kelly was. The police are worse than the—— black trackers. I came here to shoot Devine and Richards, and I'm going to do it." The men at the table began to intercede for Richards, who was sitting quietly among them and who did not speak, but Kelly exclaimed dramatically, "He must die."

Ned got the key of the bank safe and took £1450 worth of notes and money from it. He also took £691 from the teller's drawers. While thus employed, Messrs. Gill, Hardie, and Rankin came in on business in the ordinary course and were ordered to bail up. They turned and ran. Ned Kelly followed and caught Rankin, but the others got away. Ned was furious at this escape. He said that news of their presence would be all over the place in a few minutes, and he swore he would shoot Rankin in revenge. He took Rankin to the hotel, stood him up against the wall in the passage and flourished his revolver about. The men in the room pleaded that Rankin might be spared, and urged that he could not have prevented Gill and Hardie from running away. While this was going on Byrnes came in with Mr. Hardie and said that they could not find Gill, the proprietor of the local newspaper, as he had not returned to his office. Ned Kelly then let Rankin go and declared that he would burn the newspaper office. Mr. Gill it is said went out of the town and hid in a clump of trees by the side of the river till evening. Ned then walked down to McDougall's Hotel and shouted for about thirty men who were in or about the hotel at the time. On his return to the Royal Hotel he was informed that Hart had robbed the Rev. Mr. Gribble of a gold watch. He called Hart up and asked indignantly, "What right has a thing like you to rob a clergyman?" He swore a good deal and compelled Hart to give the watch back. Complaints were made that he had stolen a new saddle and bridle from a saddler's shop, and some other articles from other places. Ned called him a —— thief, and ordered him to return everything he had taken.

Ned Kelly paid more than one visit to the Post and Telegraph Office to "see how things were going on." The robbers had cut the wires on either side of the town before their entry and had chopped down seven telegraph posts in the main street near the office. They had given orders to Mr. Jefferson, the telegraph master, that no repairs should be attempted until permission was given, and Ned took care that these orders were obeyed. The robbers held the town for three days, in imitation of the manner in which the Hall and Gilbert gang had held Canowindra. Jerilderie was at this time slightly larger than Canowindra at the time when it had been stuck up and held, but there was less traffic through it, and consequently less connection between it and the outer world than with Canowindra. The road running through Jerilderie leads from Conargo to Narrandera. Jerilderie is about thirty miles from Conargo and sixty-five from Narrandera. All round are huge sheep and cattle stations, with only a few men employed on them except at shearing or mustering time. All through the remainder of the year the traffic is inconsiderable. There was in Jerilderie, however, a large wool-washing and fellmongery establishment which employed a fair number of workmen. Canowindra, on the other hand, was a wayside town on the main road from Bathurst to Forbes, the traffic being considerable all the year round. There were also several small diggings settlements not far away, and the residents of these frequently came to purchase articles from the stores at Canowindra. It was far easier, therefore, to isolate Jerilderie for three days than it had been Canowindra in the earlier days of bushranging. The Hall and Gilbert gang also robbed everybody except the landlord of the hotel they took possession of. The Kellys, on the other hand, robbed no one outside of the bank. Jerilderie also was a much more compact town than Canowindra, the latter consisting of one long straggling street, with only a few houses outside this line, while Jerilderie had several cross streets, and at least two parallel with the river.

The robbers held the town from midnight on Saturday, until about four p.m. on the Wednesday following. Shortly before the men were allowed to leave the Royal Hotel, Ned Kelly gave Living a paper which he said gave a history of his life, and the truth about what he had done. Living promised that he would do his best to get it published, and handed it to Mr. Gill, who read it and forwarded it to the Government. It was a long rambling statement, in some parts quite incoherent, and much of it false. It was never published. At about four o'clock Byrnes left the town in the direction of the Murray River. He was riding his own horse, and had the money stolen from the bank packed on one of the police horses, which he was leading. A minute or two later Dan Kelly and Steve Hart mounted their horses, and galloped several times up and down the main street, flourishing their revolvers and shouting, "Hurrah for the good old times of Morgan and Ben Hall." Then they left the town along the main road. Ned Kelly, mounted on his gray mare and leading a second police horse, left some minutes later. Before going, he rode from the police station to the Royal Hotel, and told the men detained in the large room there that they were free.

The bushrangers had left the town by different routes, probably to prevent any information as to the road they had travelled from being furnished to the police, but no doubt they had arranged where they should meet outside at a safe distance. Late in the evening they rode up to Wannamurra station, about twenty-five miles from Jerilderie, when Ned Kelly asked Mr. A. Mackie whether his brother was at home yet? Mr. Mackie replied that he did not know. "I'm going to shoot him for giving horses to Living and Tarleton to ride to Deniliquin for the traps," said Ned. They all went to the station together, but evidence was soon brought forward to prove that the bank employés had not obtained horses from Mr. Mackie, and at length Ned exonerated that gentleman for what he called "his treachery," but forcibly expressed his intention of shooting Living. "I gave him back his life policy," he said, "and I only burned two or three of the bank books instead of the lot to oblige him. He asked for them, and I treated him as fair as I could, and now he takes advantage of my kindness to betray me." He walked up and down on the verandah of the house for several minutes swearing at Living, and more than once said he had a good mind to go back and "settle him" at once. His rage, however, soon subsided, and the gang proceeded on their way, no attempt being made to detain them.

Jerilderie lies about one hundred and fifty miles, as the crow flies, from where the bushrangers were supposed to have been hidden, in the Strathbogie Mountains, and when the news of the bank robbery at Jerilderie was telegraphed all over the country, wonder was everywhere expressed as to how the robbers had crossed this country, some of it thickly populated, without being perceived. The skill with which the robbery had been planned, the boldness and completeness of the arrangements, and the apparent ease with which it had been accomplished, made the Kelly gang the principal topic of conversation. The New South Wales Government issued a proclamation declaring Ned and Dan Kelly, Joe Byrnes, and Steve Hart outlaws, and offered a reward of £3000 for their capture, dead or alive. The associated banks of the colony supplemented this reward by another of £1000. The Victorian Government increased the rewards already offered to the same amount as was offered by the New South Wales Government, while the banks in that colony added another £1000; thus making the total reward offered for the capture of the four members of the gang £8000. Two thousand pounds per man was the highest reward ever offered for the capture of bushrangers in Australia.

For some time the police of New South Wales scoured the country round Jerilderie and the plains between that town and the Victorian border, while the Victorian police were quite as active on their side of the Murray River, until at length it was definitely ascertained that the bushrangers were safe back in their mountain fastnesses. The paragraphs published from time to time in the Beechworth, the Benalla, and the Wangaratta papers, and in local papers even further removed from the home of the Kellys, tend to show that although the black boys failed to follow a trail in the mountains with the certainty and skill displayed by them in leveller country, they still kept the outlaws in a continual state of fear of capture. Ned Kelly is reported to have called them "those six little black devils," and to have sworn to shoot them if ever he "got the chance." "Those—— trackers," he cried, "I'd like to shoot 'em. They're no —— good in this country. They can't track in Victoria. I can track as well as they can out on the plains. I can run an emu's trail for miles as well as them. They may be good in Queensland or the plains, but they're no good in the mountains." Nevertheless they worried him, as his frequent complaints of their activity prove. The district was no doubt a difficult one to track in. None but a first-class horseman could ride through it with any degree of certainty, and no one but an aborigine or a white man born in the district could cross the ravines and gullies without getting hopelessly "bushed," without a guide.

The arrests and detentions of Kelly's sympathisers continued with increased vigour. "Wild" Wright and his brother Tom, relatives of the Kellys, Frank Hart, brother of the bushranger, the Lloyds and others, passed a considerable portion of their time in the cells of the various lock-ups around the district. Robert Miller was arrested and detained because his daughter, a daring horsewoman, was observed to go into the mountains at night with what were supposed to be provisions for the bushrangers. She was followed more than once, but contrived to elude her pursuers by plunging up or down a steep mountain, or across an almost impassable gully. She never started twice in the same track, sometimes going up one spur or ravine, and next time choosing a different one, and leading even the black trackers astray. The newspapers frequently urged the folly of detaining the father while the daughter was left free to furnish the outlaws with food and news. The plain fact is, that when special laws have to be applied, there should be no exceptions; otherwise they are valueless. In this case the women were far more active and reliable partisans of the Kellys than the men, and, as there can be little doubt that the Outlawry Act was strained, to put it mildly, by the police and the local magistracy, with the connivance of the Government, another turn of the screw would not have made the actions of the authorities any more illegal, and might have made them efficient. However, determined as the authorities were to stamp out lawlessness, they did not carry their own illegal acts to this extreme point, and probably this postponed, though it did not prevent, the end which was inevitable, as it always must be when a few array themselves against an overwhelming majority.

It was about this time that the name of Aaron Sherritt was first heard of in connection with the bushrangers. Sherritt was the son of an ex-policeman. He was about twenty-four years of age and had settled in the district some time earlier. He selected one hundred and seven acres of ground on the Woolshed Creek, and the Kellys and Byrnes helped him to fence it in and clear part of it. He had, however, recently sold his farm to a Mr. Crawford, of Melbourne, and had built himself a hut at Sebastopol, about two miles away, until he could take up another selection. He was engaged to be married to a sister of Joe Byrnes, and was regarded as one of the family. He was suspected of having taken a share in some of the extensive horse-stealing raids in company with the Kellys and their friends, and had been in consequence an object of police suspicion and supervision. This was the man to whom the police made advances, and, by promising him the whole of the eight thousand pounds reward offered for the capture of the bushrangers, on condition that it should be through his aid and assistance that this capture was effected, they succeeded in winning him over to their side. He led Superintendent Hare and a party of police into the innermost recesses of the mountains, and pointed out several camps where the bushrangers had been; but, in each case, the bushrangers appeared to have received warning and to have removed before the police came. Some thought that Sherritt was playing a double game, and that he contrived to let the bushrangers know when the police might be expected to arrive, but there appears to be no foundation for this opinion, as it delayed his chance of obtaining the reward. At first he was careful not to be seen in company with the police, but their association could not be kept secret for long, and Sherritt soon became suspected by the Kelly family. One day Mrs. Byrnes openly accused him of trying to betray her son. There was a row, and Sherritt was ordered from the house, his engagement with the daughter being broken off. After that Sherritt appeared more openly in company of the police, parties of whom were constantly watching the homes of the four bushrangers on the chance of capturing them should they visit their parents or other relatives. Sherritt married the daughter of another settler in the district, and all communications between him and the families of the bushrangers were broken off. Sherritt instead of being a friend was considered an enemy of the bushrangers.

During the latter half of 1879 and the first half of 1880 nothing of any importance was heard as to the movements of the bushrangers. More than once it was reported that they had left the country, sometimes it was said for New Zealand, and at other times for America, but these reports were invariably contradicted within a few days, and the Kellys were said to be still somewhere in the ranges. Sometimes it was said that the money stolen from the Jerilderie Bank must be all expended, and that the Kellys would be forced to leave their hiding-place shortly, but frequently, during the twelvemonths following that raid, nothing would be heard of the bushrangers for weeks, and the public almost forgot that there was such a gang in existence. Then suddenly came the news that the robbers had shot Aaron Sherritt on June 27th, 1880.

For some weeks a party of police had been secreted, as much as possible, in Sherritt's house, for the purpose of watching Byrne's mother's house, and four of them were quietly sitting in the inner room at the time of the murder. The particulars of the murder were as follows:—A German market-gardener named Antoine Weeks was living on the Woolshed Creek, not far from Sherritt's and Byrnes's houses. He was walking home on the evening of the day mentioned when he was met by Dan Kelly and Joe Byrnes. "Do you know who we are?" asked Dan. "No," replied Weeks. "Well, we're the Kellys," said Dan; "you do as we tell you and no harm will come to you." They handcuffed the German, and led him along the road to Sherritt's house. Here Dan told him to shout "Aaron." Weeks did so, and on Aaron Sherritt coming to the door to ascertain who wanted him, Byrnes shot him dead without a word. The bushrangers took the handcuffs off of Weeks and told him to go home. Then they went to the door of the hut, called Mrs. Sherritt out, and told her that she had better send some of the—— traps in her house out to bury her husband, because "We've shot him for being a traitor." The Kellys were fully aware that the police were in the house, and called on them to come out and "fight like men." If the constables had come out as invited they would have been courting almost certain death. A bright wood fire was burning in the hut and the front room was as bright as day, while all outside was as dark as possible. Had the police therefore left the shelter of the inner room and entered the front apartment they would have been shot down before they could have seen their enemies, whose whereabouts could only have been guessed at from their shots or from the flash of their revolvers. Going to the door under these conditions would have been almost tantamount to committing suicide. The bushrangers raged round the hut calling the police the most opprobious names and threatening and taunting them in hopes of inducing them to come into the light, but as the police kept quiet and made no reply whatever to their taunts the bushrangers swore that they would "burn 'em like rats in a trap." They fired through the windows and doors, but they appear to have been just as unwilling to enter the lighted room as the police were. In fact neither party would give the other a chance. The robbers remained round the hut at this labour of hate until two a.m., when they departed. At daybreak one of the troopers went to where the horses were kept, and rode to Benalla to give information of the reappearance of the Kellys, while the other three followed on the tracks of the outlaws.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Fight Between the Police and the Bushrangers at Glenrowan; The Railway Torn Up; Attempt to Wreck the Police Train; The Glenrowan Inn Besieged; Ned Kelly in Armour; His Capture; The Burning of the Inn; Deaths of Dan Kelly, Steve Hart, and Joe Byrnes; Trial and Conviction of Ned Kelly; His Death; The Kelly Show; Decrease of Crime in the Colonies.

As soon as the news of this fresh outrage was telegraphed to Melbourne, Sub-inspector O'Connor of Queensland, with his six black trackers, with Superintendent Hare, Inspector Pewtress, and several other officials of the Victorian police, a number of newspaper correspondents, and a few other favoured persons, started by special train for the scene of disorder. Eight troopers were picked up at Benalla, and at twenty-five minutes past three p.m. the train was stopped near the Glenrowan platform by Mr. Curnow, the local schoolmaster, who stood on the line waving a red scarf. He informed those on the train that the robbers had torn up the rails a short distance ahead, with a view to wrecking the train, and that they were waiting near to shoot the police or any one else who might be sent to capture them. A consultation was immediately held to decide as to the next step, and while this was going on, Constable Bracken, the local representative of the police force, arrived and reported that the bushrangers had taken possession of the Glenrowan Inn, not much more than a hundred yards distant, and that he had just made his escape from them.

The Glenrowan Inn was built on the Sydney Road, about half-way between Winton and Wangaratta, shortly after the discovery of gold at the Ovens River, in 1853. The glen was then a camping-place for teams travelling between Melbourne and the diggings. A second hotel was constructed later, and a small village, or what the Australians call a township, grew up on the little flat at the gap in the hills, locally known as the Futter's Range, a spur jutting out from the larger Strathbogie Range. For some years Glenrowan was quite a flourishing little town, the traffic to the diggings being large. But when the Great Northern Railway was opened in 1873 the village began to dwindle away. The railway carried the trade past it to the more conveniently situated and larger towns on either side, and consequently the population left for these towns. The two hotels remained, and there was also a store, a blacksmith's shop, and a few other houses, and these depended for their support on the fruit growers, market gardeners, and farmers who cultivated the rich alluvial flats with which the lower spurs of the mountains are interspersed. The railway platform had been constructed by the Government to accommodate the trade in fruit, vegetables, and other produce which formed the staple industry of the district in 1880.

The Glenrowan Inn was a long, low, weather-board building, with a wide verandah along the front. It stood some distance back from the road, with a large trough hewn from the stem of a tree in front for horses and bullocks to drink from. Near this was a sign-board with the names of the hotel and the proprietor on it thus:—

The robbers, it appears, did not go very far when they left Sherritt's hut. They were aware that, when the news of the murder reached Melbourne and other centres, an attempt would be made to follow them, and they seem to have made up their minds to a final effort to conquer the police force of the colony. They went to the camp of the line repairers and roused them up. James Reardon, on coming out of his hut, was ordered to get his tools, as the robbers were determined to rip up the line and wreck the train which they expected to arrive. Reardon at first refused, but on being threatened with death he gave in. He said that the tools were locked up and that he could not get them till morning, but he was told that the chest would soon be broken. His mate, Sullivan, was also secured, and at length they agreed to do as they were told. They went to a bend in the road, a short distance north of the platform, being under the impression that the train would arrive from Wangaratta or Beechworth. They ripped up a number of the rails and piled them across the track. Then they marched Reardon and his wife and child and Sullivan to the Glenrowan Inn, and took possession. They collected sixty-two people in the township, including Mr. John Stanistreet, the station-master, and escorted them to the hotel. Among the prisoners also was Constable Bracken. Ned Kelly walked about telling the people that the train would "soon be here" from Rushworth with the black trackers and "a lot of other—— and we're going to kill the lot." There was some confusion owing to the fears of the women and children, and while the bushrangers were engaged in restoring order, Constable Bracken contrived to get hold of the key of the front door. He watched for an opportunity, opened the door and ran out. He reported that three of the troopers who had been hidden in Sherritt's hut had followed the bushrangers, and had watched all their proceedings, but they had not ventured to attack them, as their ammunition was short, and they were not strong enough. Presently a man came out on to the verandah, and the police, recognising him as Ned Kelly, fired a volley. Ned laughed, and shouted "Shoot away, you ----, you can't hurt us." At this juncture Mr. Stanistreet came out of the house, and walked from the hotel to where the police were, at the imminent risk of being shot, as he was between the two firing parties. He escaped, however, and reported that Miss Jones, aged fourteen, and several other of the prisoners in the hotel had been wounded by the police fire, but none of the bushrangers had been hurt. Superintendent Hare had also been severely wounded by the bushrangers, the bullet having shattered the bones of his wrist. He was taken to the railway station-master's house and attended to. At about five p.m. Mrs. Jones, the landlady of the hotel, appeared on the verandah, wringing her hands and weeping. She called the police murderers, and said that her son had been killed and her daughter wounded. The police ceased firing, and the boy was brought out. He was still alive, and was sent off at once to the Wangaratta Hospital, where he died next day. An old man named Martin Cherry was also said to have been killed. Mrs. Jones and her children and servants, and the men and women who had been made prisoners by the bushrangers, left the hotel after dark during a truce, and firing was then kept up during the night. About daybreak another party of troopers arrived from Benalla, Wangaratta, and Beechworth, making the attacking party about thirty strong. There was a lull in the firing for a time, while the newly-arrived men were being placed in positions, when suddenly a revolving rifle and a cap known to have belonged to Ned Kelly were found a hundred yards from the hotel at the rear of the attacking party. The rifle was stained with blood. The police were still discussing this find and speculating how the articles could have got there when they were fired at from behind a tree. The next moment an extraordinary figure marched across the space between two trees. The figure looked like a tall, stout man, with a nail can over his head. Sergeant Steel, Constable Kelly, and Railway-guard Dowsett fired at it simultaneously, but the bullets appeared to rebound from the body of the figure. Steel then fired at the legs, and at the second shot Ned Kelly, for he it was, fell, crying out "I'm done for." The police rushed forward, but Kelly raised himself on his elbow and fired, howling like a wild beast and declaring that they should never take him alive. He continued shooting, but the bullets "went wild," owing, perhaps, to his weakening through loss of blood, and he was soon grappled with and handcuffed. The armour worn by Ned is said to have been made from stolen plough-shares by a local blacksmith. It consisted of a helmet shaped like a nail can and coming down to the shoulders, with a slit in it to enable the wearer to see; and a breastplate, very long, with shoulder plates and back guard. The steel averaged nearly a quarter of an inch in thickness, and the weight of the suit worn by Ned Kelly was ninety-seven pounds. The breastplate showed several dints where it had been struck by bullets, but it had not been pierced. Ned had, however, received two wounds in the groin, and one each in the left foot, right leg, right hand, and right arm. He was immediately removed to a safe distance, and placed under medical care. Notwithstanding the loss of one of their small number, the bushrangers kept up a brisk fire from the hotel. At one time a report was circulated that Joe Byrnes had been shot dead while drinking a glass of brandy in the bar, but as there was no apparent slackening in the fire this was discredited. At three p.m. Constable Charles Johnson, under cover of a volley from the besiegers, rushed up to the side of the hotel with a huge bundle of straw, which he placed in position and set fire to. The straw blazed up famously, but soon died out, and the spectators, of whom there was a goodly number, pronounced the attempt to fire the building a failure. It was at this time that Mrs. Skillian, a sister of the Kellys, rode up, dressed in a well-made black cloth riding habit and a Gainsborough hat. She advanced boldly towards the hotel, but was stopped by the police, and warned of the danger she was courting. She replied that she was not afraid, but she desired to persuade her brother Dan to surrender. A consultation was held as to whether she should be permitted to try, but before a decision was arrived at the flames burst out of the roof of the building. It may be as well to explain here that the wood of the district is principally stringy bark, and that the timber of these trees will not burn. It seems probable, therefore, that when the straw was ignited against the wall of the building, the calico sheeting, with which the rooms were lined and ceiled, caught fire and burned, while the stringy bark weather boards resisted the flames and only charred through slowly. However this may be, the furniture and other fittings burned fiercely, and the whole building was in a blaze. At this time the Rev. Father M. Gibney, a Roman Catholic priest from Perth, Western Australia, who was on a visit to the Benalla district at the time, walked up to the front door holding his crucifix in his hand. He was followed by a number of the police. When they entered the front door they saw the body of Joe Byrnes lying in the bar, in such a position as to make it probable that the report which had been spread as to his death had been true. The body was dragged out slightly scorched. Dan Kelly and Steve Hart were found dead in a small parlour off the bar. From the position in which they were lying it was conjectured that they had either committed suicide or that they had simultaneously shot each other. But there was no time to decide whether either or which of these conjectures were true. As Father Gibney was about to stoop down to examine the bodies, a gust of wind swept the flames towards him and compelled him to retire. The building was thoroughly alight at last, and the priest and the police and others who had entered were forced out by the fierce heat. In a very short time afterwards the house collapsed, and nothing was left but a heap of ashes, the sign post and trough in front, and the detached kitchen at the rear. In this kitchen was found old Martin Cherry, severely wounded. He was carried out and placed under the doctor's care, but died before night. Close beside the kitchen was the body of a dog, which had been wounded by the attacking party and had crawled between the two buildings to die. Some time before the attempt to fire the building had been made, a telegram had been sent to Melbourne to ask for a small cannon to blow the house down with. Now a telegram was sent to say that it was not required. Consequently the 12-pounder Armstrong gun with the requisite number of men of the Garrison Artillery which had been sent off by special train were stopped at Seymour and sent back. When the fire had burned down sufficiently for an examination to be made, the two mounds of ashes which were all that remained of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart were given to Mrs. Skillian for burial, while the body of Joe Byrnes was reserved for an inquest to be held. Two other suits of armour, similar to that worn by Ned Kelly, were found, the lightest being ninety-two pounds. During the fight "Wild" Wright, Tom Wright, Frank Hart, Kate Kelly, several of the Lloyds and the Byrneses, and other relations and friends of the bushrangers, had been stationed on a ridge a short distance away to see the fun. There was also a large number of other and perhaps more disinterested spectators, some of them from Melbourne or Beechworth, or other even more distant localities. After the inquest the body of Joe Byrnes was given to his friends for burial. Ned Kelly soon recovered from his wounds and was tried, convicted, and sentenced to death for the murder of Sergeant Kennedy. In conversations with Inspector Sadlier and other police officials before his trial, he said that the bushrangers had known of every movement of the police. They were aware that the police had been hiding in Sherritt's hut for more than a week, hoping to catch Joe if he visited his mother. The police had no right to stop a man from going to see his mother. When the special train arrived the intention of the bushrangers had been to rake it with shots as soon as it reached the place where the rails had been removed. "But," exclaimed Sadlier, "you would have killed all the people in the train." "Yes, of course, God help them," replied Ned, "they'd have got shot, but wouldn't they have shot me if they could?" He said that Steve Hart had visited his mother at Wangaratta, and "didn't we laugh when we saw it in the Wangaratta News afterwards. It was true, too, though the police didn't believe it." He also said that he had been told that after the sticking up of the banks at Euroa and Jerilderie, all the branch banks in Victoria sent their receipts to Melbourne almost daily. They were not going to stick up any more banks. It wasn't worth it. What they had intended to do was to stick up a railway train, and they'd have done it, "only those little black devils were always about."