When it is considered that he killed two police officers, besides civilians, Chinamen, and others, and that he shot a police magistrate through the body (inflicting a wound nearly fatal, the consequences of which were suffered for years after), it will be admitted that he was one of the most formidable outlaws that ever roamed the Australian wilds.
He is said to have encountered a pastoral tenant, of large possession, whom he thus accosted—
'I—hear—you've—been—pounding—the—Piney—boys'—horses—haven't—you?'
The witness was understood to deny, or, at any rate, shade off the unpopular act.
'Piney Range,' near Walbundree, was understood to be at one time the robber's headquarters. Here he was harboured in secret, and more comfortably lodged than was guessed at by the public or the police. The 'boys' were a horse- and cattle-stealing band of rascals now fortunately dispersed who generally made themselves useful by misleading the police, as well as by giving him notice of hostile movements. Towards subsidising them the spoils of honest men were partially devoted.
But this did by no means satisfy the 'terrible cross-examiner.'
'You look here now! If yer don't drop it, the—very—next—time—I—come—over I'll—shoot—yer. For—the—matter—of—that—I—don't—know—whether—I—won't—shoot—yer now.'
And as the dull eyes fastened with deadly gaze upon the captive's face he looking meanwhile at the mouth of the levelled weapon, held in the blood-stained hand of one who at any time would rather kill a man than not be sure Mr. Blank's feelings were far from enviable.
To one of his victims he is reported to have said—
'I—hear—you're—a—dashed—good—step-dancer. Now—let's—have—a—sample—and—do—yer—bloomin'—best—or—yer—won't—never—shake—a—leg—no—more.'
Fancy performing on the light fantastic before such a critic!
A cheerful squatter (who told me the tale) was riding through his paddocks one fine afternoon, in company with his family and a couple of young friends of the 'colonial experience'
