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"One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and

we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers

and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of

their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed,

however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of

the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the

Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his

wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every

feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made

our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted

from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and

respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in

the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money,

to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too,

and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice.