customer putting in an appearance, Dickenson went in to attend to him, when four men walked in presenting revolvers at Dickenson, his storeman, and the customer. Dickenson treated it as a joke, but on O’Meally's remarking, “There's no b———y mistake about it,” picked up a five-pound weight, when Hall and O’Meally presented revolvers at his head, ordering him outside, Daly being placed as guard over him. They then demanded the keys of his safe, which were given up. They took £180 in notes, about £5 worth of old coins, two or three watches, £11 in gold, and silver coin; some cabbage-tree hats, boots, breeches, &c.; in all about £250 worth. Two or three passers-by were bailed-up and placed alongside of Dickenson. The bushrangers had some trouble with one man—a trooper in plain clothes, who was returning to the camp after a leave of absence. When called upon to bail-up he rushed his horse at them, striking out right and left. He was soon overpowered, however, and his horse taken from him, and afterwards used by them as a packhorse. Daly was very nervous, and trembled like a leaf. The prisoners noticing this, rushed him, but Ben Hall coming to his assistance, and saying, “You fellows think there are only five of us, there are others within coo-ee,” they coolly submitted to their fate. The bushrangers having packed up, mounted and galloped away. Dickenson proceeded to the police camp and gave information to the police. Troopers were at once sent in pursuit, but missed them by turning off at the Stony Creek road instead of going on to Wombat, where the bushrangers had gone to stick-up Solomon’s store. They found the store closed, and Solomon fired at them. He, however, surrendered, and they helped themselves very liberally. Daly was captured soon afterwards and sentenced to fifteen years’ imprisonment. Gilbert, Hall, and O’Meally were all shot, as will be shown in a following chapter. Gardiner was sentenced to thirty-two years’ imprisonment, but after serving ten years was liberated by the New South Wales Government.
15th February.—At seven p.m. Cirkle, a storekeeper and publican at Stony Creek, was stuck-up and shot. The man Cirkle referred to was a constituent of mine; a really plucky fellow. When getting money for the purchase of gold, I often said to him, “What would you do, Cirkle, if Gardiner got hold of you?” “Do!” he said, “I would fight for my life; I would just as soon lose my life as my money.” It seemed that a little before dusk two men rode up to his store and asked the barman for drinks. While in the act of getting them one of the men walked round to the back of the counter and presented a revolver at the barman’s head, and cleared the till of its contents. At this moment Cirkle came in at the back door, saw what was up, made an attempt to get into a little room at the back of the counter, where he had his revolver, and in which Mrs. Cirkle was lying in bed seriously ill. He grappled with the man behind the counter, who
