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At last the Kelly gang and the police have come within shooting distance, and   the adventure has been the most tragic of any in the bushranging annals of the colony. Most people will say that it is high time, too, for the murders of the police near Mansfield occurred as long ago as the 26th of October, 1878, the Euroa   outrage on the 9th December of the same year, and the Jerilderie affair on the 8th and 9th of February, 1879. The lapse of time   induced many to believe that the gang was no longer in the colony, but   these sceptics must now be silent. The outlaws demonstrated their presence in a brutally effective manner by the murder of the unfortunate Aaron Sherritt at Sebas-

topol. Immediately on the news being   spread the police were in activity. A special train was despatched from Melbourne at 10.15 on Sunday night. At Essendon Sub-in-   spector O'Connor and his five black trackers   were picked up. They had come recently from Benalla, and were en route for Queensland again. Mr. O'Connor, how-   ever, was fortunately staying with Mrs. O'Connor's friends at Essendon for a       few days before his departure. Mrs. O'Connor and her sister came along thinking   that they would be able to pay a visit to Beechworth. After leaving Essendon the train travelled at a great speed, and before   the passengers were aware of any accident   having occurred, we had smashed through a gate about a mile beyond Craigieburn. All we noticed was a crack like a bullet striking the carriage. The brake of the engine had, however, been torn away, the footbridge of the carriage shattered, and the lamp on the guard's van destroyed. Guard Bell was looking out of the van at the time and had a very narrow escape. The train had to be pulled up, but after a few minutes we started again, relying on the brake of the guard's-van. Benalla was     reached at half past 1 o'clock, and there   Superintendent Hare with eight troopers and their horses were taken on board. We were   now about to enter the Kelly country, and caution was necessary. As the moon was shining brightly, a man was tied on upon the front of the engine to keep a look-out   for any obstruction of the line. Just before starting, however, it occurred to the authorities that it would he advisable to send a pilot engine in advance, and the man on the front of our engine was relieved. A start was made from Benalla at 2 o'clock, and at   23 minutes to 3 when we were travelling at a rapid pace, we were stopped by the pilot engine. This stoppage occurred at Playford and Desoyre's paddocks, about a mile and a       quarter from Glenrowan. A man had met the pilot and informed the driver that the rails were torn up about a mile and a half beyond Glenrowan, and that the Kellys were waiting for us near at hand. Superintendent Hare at once ordered the carriage doors on each side to be unlocked, and his men to be in readiness. His orders were punctually obeyed and the lights were extinguished. Mr. Hare then mounted the pilot-engine, along with a constable, and ad- vanced. After some time he returned, and directions were given for the train to push on. Accordingly we followed the pilot up to Glenrowan station, and disembarked.  


No sooner were we out of the train, than Constable Bracken, the local policeman,   rushed into our midst, and stated with an amount of excitement which was excusable under the circumstances, that he had just escaped from the Kellys, and that they were at that moment in posses- sion of Jones's publichouse, about a hundred   yards from the station. He called upon the police to surround the house, and his advice was followed without delay. Superintendent Hare with his men and Sub-inspector Con- nor with his black trackers, at once advanced on the building. They were accompanied by   Mr. Rawlins, a volunteer from Benalla, who did good service. Mr. Hare took the lead, and charged right up to the hotel.

At the station were the reporters of the Melbourne press, Mr. Carrington, of The Sketcher, and the two ladies who had accom- panied us. The latter behaved with admira- able courage, never betraying a symptom of fear, although bullets were whizzing about the station and striking the building and train. The first brush was exceedingly hot. The police and the gang blazed away at each other in the darkness furiously. It lasted for about a quarter of an hour, and during that time there was nothing but a succession of flashes and reports, the pinging of bullets in the air, and the shrieks of women who had been made prisoners in the hotel. Then there was a lull, but nothing could be seen for a minute or two in consequence of the smoke. In a few minutes Superintendent Hare returned to the railway-station with a shattered wrist.  

The first shot fired by the gang had passed through his left wrist. He bled pro- fusely from the wound, but Mr. Carrington, artist of The Sketcher, tied up the wound   with his handkerchief, and checked the haemorrhage. Mr. Hare then set out again for the fray, and cheered his men on as well as he could, but he gradually became so weak from loss of blood that he had reluctantly to retire, and was soon afterwards conveyed to Benalla by a special engine. The bullet passed right through his wrist, and it is doubtful if he will ever recover the use of his left hand. On his departure Sub- inspector O'Connor and Senior-constable       Kelly took charge, and kept pelting away at the outlaws all the morning. Mr. O'Connor     took up a position in a small creek in front of the hotel, and disposed his black- fellows one on each side, and stuck   to this post gallantly throughout the whole encounter. The trackers also stood the baptism of fire with fortitude, never flinching for one instant.

At about 5 o'clock in the morning a heart-   rending wail of grief ascended from the hotel. The voice was easily distinguished as that of Mrs. Jones, the landlady. Mrs. Jones was lamenting the fate of her son, who had been shot in the back, as she supposed, fatally.  

She came out from the hotel crying bitterly and wandered into the bush on several occasions, and nature seemed to echo her grief. She always returned, however, to the hotel, until she succeeded, with the assistance of one of the prisoners, in removing her wounded boy from the building, and in sending him on to Wanga- ratta for medical treatment. The firing con-

tinued intermittently, as occasion served, and bullets were continually heard coursing through the air. Several lodged in the sta-   tion buildings, and a few struck the train. By this time the hotel was completely surrounded by the police and the black trackers and a vigilant watch of the hotel was kept up during the dark hours.

At daybreak police reinforcements arrived from Benalla, Beechworth, and Wangaratta. Superintendent Sadlier came from Benalla with nine more men, and Sergeant Steele, of Wangaratta, with six, thus augmenting the besieging force to about 30 men. Before daylight Senior-constable Kelly found a re-     volving rifle and a cap lying in the bush, about 100 yards from the hotel. The rifle was covered with blood and a pool of blood lay   near it. This was evidently the property of     one of the bushrangers, and a suspicion there- fore arose that they had escaped. That these articles not only belonged to one of the outlaws but to Ned Kelly himself was soon proved. When day was dawning the women and chil- dren who had been made prisoners in the hotel were allowed to depart. They were, however, challenged individually as they approached the police line, for it was thought that the outlaws might attempt to escape under some disguise.


At daylight the gang were expected to make a sally out, so as to escape, if possible, to their native ranges, and the police were consequently on the alert. Close   attention was paid to the hotel, as it was taken for granted that the whole gang were there. To the surprise of the police, however, they soon found them- selves attacked from the rear by a man dressed in a long grey overcoat and wearing an iron mask. The appearance of the man presented an anomaly, but a little scrutiny of his appearance and behaviour soon showed that it was the veritable leader of the gang, Ned Kelly himself. On further observation it was seen that he was only armed       with a revolver. He however, walked coolly from tree to tree, and received the fire of the police with the utmost indifference, returning a shot from his revolver when a good opportunity       presented itself. Three men went for him, viz., Sergeant Steele of Wangaratta, Senior-   constable Kelly, and a railway guard named Dowsett. The latter, however, was only armed with a revolver. They fired at him persistently,     but to their surprise with no effect. He seemed bullet-proof. It then occurred to Sergeant   Steele that the fellow was encased in mail, and he then aimed at the outlaw's legs.

His first shot of that kind made Ned stagger, and the second brought him to the ground with the cry, "I am done—I am done." Steele rushed up along with Senior-constable Kelly and   others. The outlaw howled like a wild beast brought to bay, and swore at the police. He was first seized by Steele, and as that officer grappled with him he fired off another charge from his revolver. This shot was evidently intended for Steele, but from the smart way in which he secured the mur- derer the sergeant escaped. Kelly became gradually quiet, and it was soon found that he had been utterly disabled. He had been shot in the left foot, left leg, right hand, left arm, and twice in the region of the groin. But no bullet had penetrated his armour. Having been divested of his armour he was carried down to the railway station, and placed in a guard's van. Subsequently he was removed to the stationmaster's office, and his wounds were dressed there by Dr.   Nicholson, of Benalla. What statements he made are given below.  


In the meantime the siege was continued without intermission. That the three other outlaws were still in the house was confirmed by remarks made by Ned, who said they would fight to the last,

and would never give in. The interest   and excitement were consequently heightened. The Kelly gang were at last in the grasp of the police and their leader actually captured. The female prisoners who escaped during the   morning gave corroboration of the fact that   Dan Kelly, Byrne, and Hart were still in the   house. A rumour got abroad that Byrne     was shot when drinking a glass of whisky   at the bar of the hotel about half-past 5   o'clock in the morning, and the report after-   wards turned out to be true. The remaining two kept up a steady defence from the rear of the building during the forenoon, and exposed themselves recklessly to the bullets   of the police. They, however, were also clad in mail, and the shot took no effect.

At 10 o'clock a white flag or handkerchief     was held out at the front door, and imme- diately afterwards about 30 men, all pri- soners, sallied forth holding up their hands. They escaped whilst Dan Kelly and Hart were defending the back door. The police rallied up towards them   with their arms ready, and called upon them to stand. The crowd did so, and in obedience to a subsequent order fell prone on the ground. They were passed, one by one, and two of them — brothers named M'Auliffe—were arrested as Kelly sympa-     thisers. The precaution thus taken was   highly necessary, as the remaining out- laws might have been amongst them. The scene presented when they were all lying on the ground, and demonstrating the respectability of their characters, was unique   and, in some degree, amusing.


The siege was kept up all the forenoon, and till nearly 3 o'clock in the afternoon.   Some time before this the shooting from the hotel had ceased and opinions were divided as to whether Dan Kelly and Hart were reserving their ammunition or were dead. The best part of the day having elapsed, the police, who were now acting under the direction of Superintendent Sadlier, de- termined that a decisive step should be taken.       At 10 minutes to 3 o'clock another and   the last volley was fired into the hotel, and under cover of the fire Senior-constable   Charles Johnson, of Violet Town, ran up   to the house with a bundle of straw which (having set fire to) he placed on the   ground at the west side of the building. This   was a moment of intense excitement, and all hearts were relieved when Johnson was seen     to regain uninjured the shelter he had left. All eyes were now fixed on the silent build-   ing, and the circle of besiegers began to close in rapidly on it, some dodging from tree to tree, and many, fully persuaded   that everyone in the hotel must be hors de combat, coming out boldly into the open. Just at this juncture Mrs. Skillian, sister of the Kellys, attempted to approach the house from the front. She had on a black riding-   habit, with a red underskirt, and white Gainsborough hat, and was a prominent object in the scene. Her arrival on the ground was almost simultaneous with the   attempt to fire the building. Her object in trying to reach the house was apparently to induce the survivors, if any, to come out and surrender. The police, how-   ever, ordered her to stop. She obeyed the order, but very reluctantly, and, standing still, called out that some of the police were ordering her to go on and others to stop. She, however, went to where a knot of the besiegers were standing on the west side of the house. In the meantime the straw, which burned fiercely, had all been consumed, and at first doubts were entertained as to whether Senior-constable Johnson's exploit had been     successful. Not very many minutes elapsed, however, before smoke was seen coming out of the roof, and flames were discerned through the front window on the western side. A light westerly wind was blowing at the time, and this carried the flames from the straw underneath the wall and into the house, and as the building was lined with calico, the fire spread rapidly. Still no sign of life ap- peared in the building.

When the house was seen to be fairly on fire, Father Gibney, who had previously started for it but had been stopped by the police, walked up to the front door and

entered it. By this time the patience of the besiegers was exhausted, and they all, re- gardless of shelter, rushed to the building. Father Gibney, at much personal risk from   the flames, hurried into a room to the left, and there saw two bodies lying side by side on their backs. He touched them, and found life was extinct in each. These were the bodies of Dan. Kelly and Hart, and the rev. gentleman expressed the opinion, based on their position, that they must have killed one another. Whether they killed one another or whether both or one committed suicide, or whether both being mortally wounded by the besiegers they determined to die side by side, will never be known. The priest had barely time to feel their bodies before the fire forced him to make a speedy exit from the room, and the flames had then made such rapid progress on the western side of the house that the few people who followed close on the rev. gentleman's heels     dared not attempt to rescue the two bodies. It may be here stated that, after the house had been burned down, the two bodies were removed from the embers. They presented a horrible spectacle, nothing but the trunk and skull being left, and these almost   burnt to a cinder. Their armour was found near them. About the remains there was apparently nothing to lead to positive identification, but the dis- covery of the armour near them and other circumstances render it impossible to be doubted that they were those of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart. The latter was a much smaller man than the younger Kelly, and this difference in size was noticeable in their remains. Constable Dwyer, by-the-bye, who,     followed Father Gibney into the hotel, states that he was near enough to the bodies to recognise Dan. Kelly.

As to Byrne's body it was found in the entrance to the bar-room, which was on the   east side of the house, and there was time to remove it from the building, but not before the right side was slightly scorched. This body likewise presented a dreadful appear- ance. It looked as if it had been ill- nourished. The face was black   with smoke, and the arms were bent at right angles at the elbows, the stiffened joints below the elbows standing erect. The body was quite stiff, and its appearance and     the position in which it was found corro- borated the statement that Byrne died early yesterday morning. He is said to have re- ceived the fatal wound, which was in the groin, while drinking a glass of whisky at the bar. He had a ring on his right hand which had belonged to Constable Scanlan, who was murdered by the gang on the Wombat Ranges. The body was dressed in a blue sac coat, tweed striped trousers, Crimean shirt, and very ill-fitting boots. Like Ned Kelly,   Byrne wore a bushy beard.  

In the outhouse or kitchen immediately behind the main building the old man Martin Cherry, who was one of the prisoners of the   gang, and who was so severely wounded that       he could not leave the house when the other prisoners left, was found still living, but in articulo mortis from a wound in the groin.   He was promptly removed to a short distance from the burning hotel and laid on the ground, when Father Gibney administered to   to him the last sacrament. Cherry was in- sensible, and barely alive. He had evidently suffered much during the day, and death released him from his sufferings within half an hour from the time when he was removed from the hotel. It was fortunate that he was not burned alive. Cherry, who was unmarried, was an old resident of the district and was employed as a platelayer, and resided about a mile from Glenrowan. He was born at Limerick, Ireland and was 60 years old. He is said by all who knew him to have     been a quiet, harmless old man, and much regret was expressed at his death. He seems to have been shot by the attacking force, of course unintentionally.

While the house was burning some ex-   plosions were heard inside. These were alarming at first, but it was soon ascertained that they were cartridges burning. Several gun barrels were found in the débris, and also the burnt carcase of a dog which had been shot during the mélée. All that was left standing of the hotel was the lamp-post and   the signboard bearing the following device, which, in view of the carnage that had just been perpetrated within the walls of the hostelry, read strangely—




In a small yard at the rear of the buildings four of the outlaws' horses, which had been purposely fired at early in the day, were found     and were killed at once, to put them out of their agony. They were poor scrubbers. Two   of them were shod. The police captured Byrne's horse, a fine animal.    

About the same time that Mrs. Skillian   appeared on the scene, Kate Kelly and another of her sisters were also noticed, as were likewise Wild Wright and his brother   Tom, and Dick Hart, brother of one of the dead outlaws. Mrs. Skillion seemed to appreciate the position most keenly, her younger sisters appearing at times rather un- concerned. Dick Hart, who was Steve Hart's   senior, walked about very coolly.


After the house had been burned Ned Kelly's three sisters and Tom Wright were allowed an interview with him. Tom Wright as well     as the sisters kissed the wounded man, and   a brief conversation ensued, Ned Kelly having to a certain extent recovered from the exhaustion consequent on his wounds. At times his eyes were quite bright, and, al- though he was of course excessively weak, his remarkably powerful physique enabled   him to talk rather freely. During the interview he stated :—"I was at last surrounded by the police, and only had a revolver, with which I fired four shots. But it was no good. I had half a mind to shoot myself. I loaded my rifle, but could not hold     it after I was wounded. I had plenty of am- munition, but it was no good to me. I got shot in the arm, and told Byrne and Dan so.   I could have got off, but when I saw them all pounding away, I told Dan I would see it over, and wait until morning."

"What on earth induced you to go to the     hotel?" inquired a spectator.

"We could not do it anywhere else," re-   plied Kelly, eyeing the spectators who were strangers to him suspiciously. " I would,"

he continued, " have fought them in the train, or else upset it if I had the chance. I didn't care a — who was in it, but I     knew on Suuday morning there would be no usual passengers. I first tackled the line, and could not pull it up, and then came to

Glenrowan station."

"Since the Jerilderie affair," remarked a   spectator, "we thought you had gone to Queensland."

"It would not do for everyone to think the same way" was Kelly's reply. "If I were once right again," he continued, "I would go to the barracks, and shoot every one of the — traps, and not give one a


Mrs. Skillion (to her brother).—" It's a     wonder you did not keep behind a tree."  

Ned Kelly.—"I had a chance at several     policemen during the night, but declined to fire. My arm was broke the first fire. I got away into the bush, and found my mare, and could have rushed away, but wanted to see the thing out, and remained in the bush."  

A sad scene ensued when Wild Wright led Mrs. Skillion to the horrible object which was all that remained of her brother Dan. She bent over it, raised a dirge-like cry, and     wept bitterly. Dick Hart applied for the body of his brother, but was told he could not have it until after the post-mortem   examination. The inquest on the bodies will be held at Benalla.  

Michael Reardon, aged 18 years, was shot through the shoulder, but it is apparently only a flesh wound. The boy Jones was dangerously shot in the thigh. Both have been sent to the Wangaratta Hospital.

A cannon was brought up as far as Sey-

mour, but as the burning of Jones's Hotel  

had proved successful, it was counter-



According to Ned Kelly, the gang after shooting Sherritt at Sebastopol, rode openly through the streets of Beechworth, and then came on to Glenrowan for the purpose of wrecking any special police train which might be sent after them, in the hope of destroying the blacktrackers. They descended on Glenrowan at about three o'clock on   Sunday morning and rousing up all the inhabitants of the township bailed them up. Feeling unable to lift the rails themselves, they compelled the line-repairers of the dis-   trict and others to do so. The spot selected was on the first turning after reaching Glenrowan, at a culvert and on an incline. One rail was raised on each side, and the sleepers were removed. The diabolical object in view was the destruction of the special train. Having performed this fiendish piece of work Kelly returned to the township, and, bailing all the people up, kept them prisoners in the station-master's house and Jones's       hotel. By 3 o'clock on Monday morning,     they gathered all their captives into the hotel, and the number of those unfortunate people amounted at one time to 47, as already stated. The police then arrived, and the prisoners escaped at intervals during the night.

The first attack of the police was a brilliant   affair. They approached the house quickly, but stealthily. Their arrival, however, was expected, and they were met with a volley from the verandah of the hotel. Special trains   were run during the morning between Glenrowan and Benalla, and Mrs. O'Connor   and her sister—who may justly be called the heroines of the day, for they behaved bravely —were taken on by one of them to Benalla   in the forenoon. Ned Kelly after being secured     quieted down, and became absolutely tame. He is very reserved as to anything connected   with his comrades, but answered questions freely when his individual case was alone concerned. He appeared to be suffering from a severe shock and exhaustion, and trembled in every limb. Now and again he fainted, but restoratives brought him round, and in his stronger moments he made the following

statements :—


I was going down to meet the special train with some of my mates, and intended to rake it with shot ; but it arrived before I ex- pected, and I then returned to the hotel. I expected the train would go on, and I had the rails pulled up so that these — blacktrackers might be settled. I do not say what brought me to Glenrowan, but it seems much. Anyhow I could have have got away last night, for I got into the bush with my grey mare, and lay there all night. But I wanted to see the thing end. In the first volley the police fired I was wounded on the left foot ; soon afterwards I was shot through the left arm. I got these wounds in front of the house. I do not care what people say about Sergeant Kennedy's death. I have     made my statement of the affair, and if the public don't believe me I can't help it ; but I     am satisfied it is not true that Scanlan   was shot kneeling. He never got off his horse. I fired three or four shots from the front of Jones's hotel, but   who I was firing at I do not know. I simply fired where I saw police. I escaped to the bush, and remained there overnight.

I could have shot several constables if I liked. Two passed close to me. I could have shot them before they could shoot. I was a good distance away at one time, but came back. Why don't the   the police use bullets instead of duck shot? I have got one charge of duck-shot in my leg.     One policeman who was firing at me was a     splendid shot, but I do not know his name. I daresay I would have done well to have ridden away on my grey mare. The bullets   that struck my armour felt like blows from a man's fist. I wanted to fire into the carriages, but the police started on us too quickly.

I expected the police to come." Inspector Sadlier.—"You wanted, then, to kill the   people in the train ?" Kelly. —"Yes, of course   I did ; God help them, but they would have got shot all the same. Would they not have  

tried to kill me ?"  


When the first attack subsided, the     outlaws were heard calling, " Come on, you — ; the — police can't do us   any harm." The armour in which   each member of the gang was clad was of a most substantial character. It was made of iron a quarter of an inch thick, and con- sisted of a long breast-plate, shoulder-plates,     back-guard and helmet. The helmet resem-   bled a nail can without a crown, and with a long slit at the elevation of the eyes to look through. All these articles are believed to have been made by two men, one living near Greta and the other near Oxley. The iron was procured by the larceny of ploughshares, and larcenies of this kind having been rather frequent of late in the Kelly district the police had begun to suspect that the gang were preparing for action. Ned Kelly's armour alone weighed 97lb., a   considerable weight to carry on horseback. There are five bullet marks on the helmet, three on the breast-plate, nine on the back-   plate and one on the shoulder plate. his wounds so far as at present known, are :—Two on the right arm, several on the right leg, one on left foot, one on right hand, and two near the groin.


John Stanistreet, the stationmaster at Glen- rowan states :—" About 3 o'clock on Sunday   morning a knock came to my door. I live at the gatehouse within 100 yards of the station   on the Melbourne side. I jumped out of bed and, thinking it was someone wishing to get     through the gates in a hurry, I proceeded to dress, and after getting half my clothes on I went to the door. Just as I arrived at the door it was burst in. Previous to that there was some impertinent talk outside to get me to open quickly. When the door was burst in   I asked, 'Who are you ; what is this for?'     The answer was, ' I am Ned Kelly.' I saw a man clad in an overcoat, who walked in with me to my bedroom. Mrs. Stanistreet and the children were there in bed. There were two little girls and one infant. Ned Kelly said to me, ' You have to come with me and take up   the rails.' I replied, ' Wait until I dress ;'

and I completed my dress, and followed him out of the house on the rail- way line. I found seven or eight men standing at the gate looking over the line near Mrs. Jones's Glenrowan Inn. Ned Kelly, speaking to me, said, ' Now you direct those men how to raise some of the rails, as we expect a special train very soon.' I objected, saying, ' I know nothing about lifting rails off the line. The only persons that understand it are the repairers, and they live outside and on the line.' Ned went on   alone to Reardon the platelayer's house, which stands about a quarter of a mile along the line southward. I and the other men were left in charge of Steve Hart. Ned Kelly went on to Reardon's house ; Steve Hart gave me a prod with his gun in the side and said, ' You get the tools out that are necessary to raise those rails.' I replied,

'I have not the key of the chest.' He said,     ' We'll break the lock,' and he got one of the   men to do so. They took all the tools out of the chest, which lay in a back shed or tool- house between the station and the crossing. Soon afterwards Ned and two of the re- pairers, Reardon and Sullivan, arrived. Ned, accompanied by these two men, proceeded down the line towards Wangaratta. We stood with Hart in the cold at the hut for about two hours. At last Ned Kelly and the repairer returned. Ned inquired about the signalling on the line—how I stopped trains with the signal lamps. I told him white is right and red wrong, and green gene- rally ' come along.' He then said, ' There is   a special train coming, and you will give no signal.' Then, speaking to Hart, he said,

' Watch his countenance, and if he gives any signal shoot him.' He marched us into my house, and left us under the charge of Steve Hart. Subsequently other persons were made prisoners and lodged in my house to the number of about 17. They were the Reardon family, the Ryan family, Tom Cameron, son of a gatekeeper on the line, and others

whom I don't remember. We were locked   up all day on Sunday, but we were allowed out under surveillance. The women were allowed to go to Jones's Hotel about dark. All the men but myself and family went to the hotel soon afterwards. Steve Hart remained with us all night. During the night Dan Kelly relieved Hart, and he was afterwards relieved by Byrne. Just before the special train arrived this morning I was ordered by Hart, who was on and off duty throughout the night, to follow him over to Jones's, and not to signal the train. I went into the back kitchen, and found there Mrs. Jones, with her daughter, about 11, and two younger children. There was also a man there named Neil M'Kean. By this time the train had arrived, and firing was going on furiously, and we all took shelter about the chimney. The house is a mere shell of a struc- ture. The gang disappeared from me when the firing commenced. A bullet passed right through the kitchen, and graced the temple of Jane Jones, aged 11, daughter of the land- lord. She exclaimed, ' I am shot,' and as she turned to me I saw her head bleeding,

and told her it was nothing serious. Poor Mrs. Jones commenced to cry bitterly. I left the kitchen and went into the back yard, and passed the gang there. They were standing together at the kitchen chimney. I cannot say whether there were three or four of them. One of them said, ' If you go out you will be shot.' I walked straight to   my house. Firing was going on, but I was uninjured. Of course I was challenged as I passed through. I omitted to state that on Sunday night Steve Hart demanded my revolver from me, and I had to give it



Robert Gibbons, farmer, living at present with Mr. Reynolds, states :–" I came to the railway station with Mr. Reynolds's brother at about 8 o'clock on Sunday night to bring Mr. Reynolds' little boy home. He had gone to Sunday school, and we could not understand what was detaining him. We called at the stationmaster's house, and Mrs. Stanistreet informed us that Mr. Hart was inside, and that they had been stuck up since 3 o'clock that morning. We went in and saw Steve Hart, who presented his fire- arms, and told us we had to remain there. We had been there about two hours when Ned Kelly came. Hart then ordered us all to come outside. Ned told us we would all have to go with him to the police station. We went, and he kept us there about two hours. He left us for a time, and returned after about an hour and a half with the con- stable. Byrne was in charge of us during Ned's absence. Ned told Mr. Reynolds brother and myself to return with him to Jones's Hotel. We went with him, and he   put us all in the sittingroom. We remained there from 10 o'clock on Sunday night until 3   o'clock this (Monday) morning. During that   time we went from one room to another, but were not allowed to go outside. Byrne was   in charge of the back door, and the front one was locked. Ned and Dan Kelly were walk- ing about the house quite jolly. Hart was at the stationmaster's house until about 3

o'clock. The bushrangers were drinking,     and making themselves quite jolly. At about 3 on Monday morning Ned Kelly came into the sittmgroom, and told us we were not to whisper a word of anything that was said there, or seen about him. ' If I hear of any one doing so,' he said, ' I will shoot him.'   He went to the door of the room and said, ' Here she comes,' evidently thinking that the train was about to be wrecked. With that they seemed to me to be making prepara- tions. The gang went out to the back for a few minutes, and on coming back they pro- claimed that the first man who left the house would be shot. Two of the gang mounted their horses, and rode away. I saw them through the window. They returned in about 10 minutes. I saw two, one of them being Dan Kelly, go into a small room. They came out soon afterwards fully armed, and prepared for a fight. Then the other two did the same. Not long after that the police arrived, when the firing commenced. There must have been about 10 men, women, and children prisoners in the house at this time. There was a great shrieking of the women and children. Mrs. Jones's eldest daughter   (about 14) got shot in the side of the head, and her eldest boy was shot in the thigh. We all lay down on the floor for safety, as the bullets were rattling on the house. We were packed so close that we had to lie on our sides, and lay in that position until we came out at about   10 o'clock. Those next the door led the   way, and we were prompted to leave by hear- ing the police, as we thought, giving the gang their last warning. We feared, in fact, that the firing would be commenced again heavier   than ever. We did not see any of the gang when we left, as they were in the back room. We were not maltreated in any way."      


"I am the wife of James Reardon, plate- layer. We live in a house near the Glen- rowan railway station, on the opposite side of the line to Mrs. Jones's hotel. On Saturday   night our family, consisting of my husband, myself, and our children—a boy 18, a girl seven, and a boy three years old—went to bed. At 3 o'clock on Sunday morning we were awakened by the dog barking. My hus-    

band asked how it was the dog had got out of the stable. I replied I had heard a horseman jump the fence. My husband got up, and opened the door, where he was met by Ned Kelly and another platelayer named Sullivan, whom Kelly had taken. We were bailed up, and taken to the station- master's house, and kept there until Sunday evening. We were allowed to walk about, and foolishly walked to Jones's Hotel.

There we found a large number of prisoners, amongst whom were John Delaney, of Greta with his brothers William and Patrick ; W. S. Cook, Martin Cherry, platelayer ; John Larkin, a farmer ; William Mortimer, a farmer ; Edward Reynolds, Robert Gibbons, a brother of the postmaster ; two of the M'Auliffes, and many others I don't remem- ber. I made several attempts to escape from the hotel. At daybreak this (Monday) morn- ing I came out with my infant child, and got refuge in one of the railway carriages."  


Sergeant Arthur Loftus Maule Steele, of Wangaratta, states :—" I arrived at Glen- rowan with five men about 5 a.m. Others came down by train. I was challenged in the vicinity of the hotel by the police, and I in- formed them who we were. I scattered my men around the hotel. I went up to the nearest tree behind the back door. Heard no firing up to that time. A woman and child came to the back door screaming. I told her to run on quick, and she would not be molested. A man then came to the back door, and I called upon him to throw up his hands or I would fire on him. I was only about 25 yards from the house.   The man did not hold up his hands, but stooped and ran towards the stable. I fired at him, and he turned and ran back into the house. I am certain that the man must have been injured, as he screamed, and fell to- wards the door. I was firing with slugs. There was then some hot firing, and bullets were whistling all round. From the ring of the slugs I at once re- cognised that the man wore mail. I then heard some men roaring out. It was then just breaking day. When I looked round I saw Ned Kelly stalking round behind me in the bush. He was marching down on the house quite deliberately, and from his rig-out I supposed him at first to be a blackfellow ; but seeing him present a revolver, and fire at the police, I knew he must be one of the gang. I could see the bullets flying about

his head and chest, and concluded that he also had armour on. I then made a run for him, and got within about 10 or 15 yards of him, when he turned round, and aimed at me with a revolver. I immediately shot at his legs, and he staggered. He still aimed at me, so I gave him the second barrel, also in the legs about the knees. I was at this time in the open. He fell on my second charge, and said, ' I'm done, I'm done.' I ran up       to him then, and just as I got up he tried to get the revolver pointed on me again. I ran behind, and he could not twist round fast enough. I got up to him, seized hold of the revolver, turned it off from me, and he fired it off in my hand. Senior-con-   stable Kelly came up at this juncture, and caught hold of him, and in a few seconds there was quite a group of people around us. We disarmed and secured him. We only found one revolver on him. Having divested him of his armour, we car- ried him to the railway-station. Just after I   had seized him the rush of the other people knocked Kelly and me over, and I received a rather awkward twist, and his armour in- jured my side."  


" I accompanied the detachment of police which went from Benalla. On arriving at Glenrowan I went with Superintendent Hare   towards the hotel where the Kellys   were lodged. Hare went straight towards the house, and I went to the railway gates. Two of the black trackers were with us. They got into a ditch, and I got behind one of the railway gate- posts. I fired at once, three times, and then I heard Hare say, ' I am shot, any way.' After a few minutes I took him to the   station masters house which is close to the railway gates. Then I took him to the rail- way station, and subsequently, at Mr. Hare's   request I got some ammunition and went round the line distributing it."



"I am stationed at Greta, five miles from Glenrowan. At 11 o'clock on Sunday   night I was called by Edward Reynolds,   I was then at the police station, which is one mile from the railway station. I had been suffering from a bilious attack, and was very weak. At first I didn't reply, but another   voice called me, and then I opened the door. Just as I did so, Ned Nelly presented a revolver at my head. He was masked with an iron helmet, and I didn't at first know it was Ned Kelly. The mask was like a nail- can. He told me to bail up and throw my hands up. I said, ' You are not Ned Kelly ; you are only one of the police trying my   mettle.' He continued, 'Throw up your   arms, or you are a dead man.' I put one hand up, and he said, ' Put the other up ; we want no nonsense.' I complied. He then took my gun and revolver, and asked me for cartridges. I told him I had only those the gun and revolver were loaded with. Then he said, 'I believe you have a very fast horse."  

He referred to a horse called ' Sir Solomon,'

which I possess.' Sir Solomon' is crippled,   but I had a good horse in the stable. He ordered me to lead him to the stable, and I did so. We saddled the horse, bridled it, and then he told me to mount. Ned Kelly was accompanied by Byrne.   Both were mounted, and a man named Reynolds was with them on foot. Byrne took   hold of my horse's bridle, and Ned Kelly fol- lowed up behind with Reynolds on foot. We proceeded to Jones's Hotel. Robert Gibbons,   another prisoner, also accompanied us. When we arrived at the hotel, we found a lot of people stuck up there. We were put   in one of the rooms of the hotel. The gang were all armed with revolvers and rifles. There were only three of them there. Hart being, I believe, at the postmaster's house at the time. Byrne locked the front door, and   I watched where he put the key. He laid it carelessly near the chimney. Believing a special train would be coming up with police, I secured the key when Byrne's back was turned and put it in my pocket. I heard the special train arrive. Thereupon   the gang went into a backroom. This was my opportunity, and I quietly went to the front door, unlocked it, and rushed out. I ran to the railway station, found the train had arrived and the police on the platform ; told them where the Kellys were, and asked   them to surround the place immediately.

After a few minutes, Superintendent Hare returned with his arm wounded. I then secured a horse and rode off to Wangaratta,   about 12 miles distant. Told the police there what had happened, and sent telegrams all over the district, and the police of Wangaratta     immediately started for the scene, I returning

with them."  



"I am a Catholic priest, of Perth, West Australia. I was travelling on the North- Eastern line, having left Melbourne by the first down train in the morning. On arriving   at Glenrowan station, having heard, while going there, that the Kelly gang were at Jones' Hotel, I got out of the train, abandon- ing my intention to proceed further on. Con- sequently my presence at the scene was, so to speak, accidental. I got out at Glen- rowan, because I thought I might be

of use in my clerical capacity. The train arrived at Glenrowan between 12 noon and 1 o'clock, and I went at once   into the room where Ned Kelly was lying at the station. I don't think he is dying. He     is penitent, and shows a very good disposi-

tion. When I asked him to say 'Lord Jesus have mercy on me,' he said it, and   added, ' It's not to-day I began to say that.'    

I heard his confession, which I shall not he expected to repeat. As I at first thought he was dying I anointed him."



"When we started from the platform we ran down towards the railway gates, hear- ing that the gang were in Jones' public house. We had not time to scatter, but made at once for the front of the house, a few of the men going round to the back. As we neared the place the gang slipped out on the verandah, and began to fire at us. Superintendent Hare was near me, as was also Mr. Rawlins, a volunteer from Benalla. Two or three constables fired, and Mr. Hare was wounded, a bullet striking   his wrist. He said to me, ' Kelly for God's   sake surround the house and don't let them   escape.' With his right hand he forth- with fired two shots. Handing his gun to Mr. Rawlins he then retired, saying, 'Kelly, place the men under cover.' I immediately placed the men around the house. Inspector O'Connor, with his trackers, took up a posi-  

tion in front, and I went round to the further part of the premises, taking Constable Arthur with me. We crept on our faces and hands for about 400 yards, and reached a tree 50 yards from the house. We got at the back of this tree, which was in the scrub. There we found a six-barrelled revolving rifle,       covered with blood, and a skull-cap. We   kept a look out, and every time we fancied we saw anyone in the hotel we fired. We shot four horses which were saddled and tied up at the back door, with a view to prevent escape on them.     When he left the train Constable Bracken, who had just escaped from the hotel, told us the gang were all inside. He jumped on one   of our horses, which was saddled, and rode off to Wangaratta for additional assistance. At half-past 6 o'clock he returned in com-     pany with Sergeant Steele and eight men, who at once assisted in mounting guard round the house. We continued firing on the house until about 8 o'clock, when Ned Kelly made his appearance under the brow of the hill, about 150 yards from the hotel, and deliberately fired a revolver at me. He was heavily armoured, and our men kept up a continuous fire at him, Sergeant Steele being at one side of him and myself and Dowsett (a railway guard) on the other side. Gradually we closed on him, all the

while keeping up a steady fire from the rifles. Finding our shots had no effect on his body we aimed at his head, arms, and legs. He walked boldly forward, as if to defy us. Some of our men retired behind trees and logs, and in about 10 minutes afterwards he fell beside a fallen tree at which we were posted. We at once rushed forward and caught him. I caught him by the head, and Steele grasped his hand in which he held a revolver. He fired it off, but it did no damage. We took his   armour off, and carried him to the railway station. Found, on searching him only a 3d. piece a silver Geneva watch, and a quantity of ammunition. I asked him to tell me where Sergeant Kennedy's watch, was so   that I might get it for Mrs. Kennedy. He re- plied, ' I can't tell you ; I would not like to tell you about it.' He said— 'I had to shoot Sergeant Kennedy and Scanlan for my own safety and I can't tell you any more.' "

We then gave him over to Mr. Sadleir and the medical gentlemen.


With regard to the murder of Aaron   Sherritt, near Beechworth, one of the con-  

stables present gives the following narra-     tive—"There were four of us sent out to     watch Byrne's mother's house. We were planted for a few weeks in Sherritt's hut,   which is about seven miles from Beechworth. About five minutes past 6 o'clock on Satur-   day evening a man knocked at the door. Sherritt opened it and said, 'Who is here?' The man replied, 'I have lost my way.Can you put me on the   right track for Sebastopol?' Mrs. Aaron Sherritt told her husband to go out and direct the man. He accordingly went out and found that the man was Antonio Wicks,   a digger, and that he was handcuffed. Joe Byrne stood behind Wicks, and the moment   Sherritt stepped forward Byrne shot him through the eye. Sherritt staggered backwards, and then received another bullet in the chest and died. Sherritt's wife and mother-     in-law were in the house, and we were in the     bedroom. Byrne entered the house, and asked who was in the bedroom. Mrs. Sher- ritt said it was a man. Byrne then ordered her   to bring the man out. She came in, and we kept her there. Byrne then   said to Mrs. Sherritt. 'I will shoot your mother if you don't come out.'

Mrs. Sherritt's mother then came into the     room to bring her out and we kept them back. Byrne said, 'I will — soon make you come out,' and he, with Dan Kelly, put seven bullets through the walls of the hut.

We never got a chance of shooting at   them. Dan Kelly said, 'We will set     fire to the — place,' and he broke up a barrel for firewood. Byrne asked Mrs. Sherritt if she used kerosene or   candles, and when she said candles, he said he wanted kerosene to set the place alight.  

We heard them talking on the outside until     4 or 5 o'clock in the morning, when they must     have left. Byrne asked us to surrender, and we replied that we would sooner die. When they threatened to burn the house down, Mrs. Barry (Mrs. Sherritt's   mother) said, 'Do not burn down the house. I know, Byrne, you have got a soft heart.'

Byrne replied, 'I have a heart as hard as stone. I will shoot the whole lot of them like dogs.' We remained in the hut until   last night, when we were relieved by another party of police."



An inquest was commenced to-day on the   body of Aaron Sherritt, who was shot by Byrne at Sebastopol on Saturday evening. His father, mother-in-law, and brother, and     the doctor gave evidence. There were two bullet wounds, but no bullet was found in the body. The inquest was adjourned until Wednesday for the attendance of the police-   men who were in the hut when the murder

was committed.  

Sherritt was buried this evening.