HOW HART AND DAN KELLY FELL.

        Up to this point two of the outlaws have been accounted for—Ned Kelly lying bound at the railway station, and Byrne lying dead in the hotel. During the morning, and before the terror-stricken men and women had escaped from the hotel, more police arrived from the districts surrounding, most of the residents of the district living within sound of the firing having also gathered at the spot to witness the extraordinary conflict. Amongst these were not a few of the outlaws' relatives and friends including one notorious sympathiser named Wild Wright, and one of the sisters of the Kellys—Mrs. Skillian, who was dressed in a dark riding habit trimmed with scarlet, and wearing a jaunty hat adorned with a conspicuous white feather.

        Amongst those who left the hotel were two youths named McAuliffe, and when the police were examining the small crowd one by one, preparatory to giving them permission to leave, these two were taken into custody on suspicion of being Kelly sympathisers. They were handcuffed and sent up to the railway station for safe keeping. Young Reardon, who was severely wounded in the shoulder while in the hotel by a bullet fired from one of the rifles in the hands of the attacking party, was also sent up to the station for treatment by the doctors there.

        Meanwhile a close watch was being kept upon the hotel, as it was feared that the two outlaws who were still alive might make a rush and get away; and a constant fire was kept up by the police, some of whom took up sheltered positions quite close to the building. For a time the fire was returned by the outlaws, but shortly after midday that firing ceased, and the attacking party thought that the outlaws had decided to keep quiet until darkness set in and then endeavour to make their escape. How to bring matters to a climax appeared to be a problem which the officers in command of the police had some difficulty in solving. They were afraid to rush the place, having good reason to believe that lives would be sacrificed in the assault, and to continue firing as they had been was simply a waste of ammunition. At last an inspiration came to the authorities in Melbourne, and they decided to make use of heavier metal than ordinary rifle bullets. They would blow the house down, using one of the heavy pieces of ordinance in Melbourne for that purpose. Accordingly a third special was started from Melbourne for Glenrowan, having on board a detachment of artillery under Colonel Anderson, and a 12-pounder field-piece and ammunition sufficient to blow a hole through the wall of a fortified city. Further than this, the Colonial Secretary also advised by telegram that a wooden bullet-proof shield should be constructed to be fitted on a dray or waggon, under cover of which the attacking party might approach sufficiently near the building to ensure its destruction by the broadside that should be poured into it. And still further did the Chief Secretary go, so determined was he to do the thing effectually. Fearing that darkness might set in before the cannon could be brought to bear upon the wooden tenement, he communicated with Mr. Ellery, Government Astronomer of the colony, asking his advice as to the practicability of sending to the seat of war an electric-light apparatus to preserve the continuity of the besiegers' work; but that gentleman discountenanced the project, explaining that even if the apparatus were placed on the ground it would take quite twenty-four hours to get into fair working order. Then Mr. Ramsay fell back upon a more primitive method, and by wire suggested to the men in command on the ground that huge bonfires should be lighted round the hotel when night set in, the light from which would serve a double purpose—preventing the escape of the outlaws and showing clearly to the gunner the object at which he should aim. It is creditable to the great mind that could plan the details of a destructive attack so cleverly that he could think of the possibility of other lives being sacrificed in the blowing-down process, and issue orders that before shooting the destructive bolt care should be taken to ascertain that the only occupants of the building were members of the gang.

        But as it turned out, none of these carefully planned and elaborately offensive movements were needed. Before the 12-pounder had reached Benalla the Glenrowan citadel had been effectually stormed, and the uncaptured outlaws—or all that remained of them—were in the hands of the police. How the storming was accomplished may be briefly told.

        While the instruments in the telegraph offices were clicking out their messages to and from headquarters, the officers in charge of the attacking party had decided upon a plan of their own for dislodging the outlaws. They would set fire to the building and burn it over the outlaws' heads, so that they would either have to run from their shelter and be shot or captured, or remain under the roof and be roasted. They remained and were roasted.

        There were about two hundred people at the railway station when this plan was conceived, some of them having been passengers by the ordinary midday through train from Melbourne, who had elected to make a break in the journey at Glenrowan when they discovered the startling developments that were there taking place. Amongst these arrivals was Rev. M. Gibney, Roman Catholic priest, of Perth, West Australia, who had been travelling through Victoria. Having heard on the road that the Kelly gang were at Glenrowan and that a desperate fight was going on between the outlaws and the police, he left the train when it reached the station, thinking that he might be of use in his clerical capacity. When he learned that Ned Kelly was at the station dangerously wounded, he proceeded at once to the room where the outlaw was lying and spoke to him in private. He says he found the wounded man very penitent, and when he asked him to say "Lord Jesus, have mercy on me," he repeated the words most reverently and added "It is not today I began to say that." Believing him at the time to be in a dying state, Father Gibney heard his confession and then anointed him; after which he proceeded to watch the storming party at work. He was with the police when Mrs. Skillian arrived on the scene, and he earnestly requested her to go to the hotel and persuade her brother and Hart to surrender; but she replied that although she would like to see her brother before he died, she would sooner see him burned in the house than ask him to surrender. Shortly after this the police made arrangements for burning down the hotel.

        Senior-constable Johnson, having been authorised by Superintendent Sadlier to fire the house, visited one of the houses near and obtained a bundle of straw and a bottle of kerosene. He then pretended to the people about the railway station that he was going to feed the horses in the railway paddock. He accordingly went down in that direction, entered the bush, and made a detour round to the other side or end of the hotel. In his peregrination, and when passing round the other side of the rise beyond the hotel, he came across four men fully armed with guns and revolvers. He recognised none of them. Certainly they were not policemen, and the conclusion arrived at was that they were sympathisers waiting for an opportunity to assist the gang. Johnson saw at once that they were not friends, so he put the evasive question to them "Did you see two horses (a grey and a brown) pass here recently?" They replied in a surly manner that they had not, and he passed on down to the hotel. Rapidly approaching the building he placed the straw against the weatherboards, threw on the kerosene, and applied a lighted match, his companions meanwhile keeping up a heavy fire upon the place from the front and rear, in order to divert the attention of the outlaws from Johnson's proceedings.

        The fire speedily gained a hold upon the building, and in a very short time the flames were playing right up to the roof. But still the outlaws made no sign, and the police and spectators began to ask each other wonderingly: "Are they dead? or, have they escaped? or, do they mean to stay there till they're roasted?" And at this moment a startling cry was raised—"Old Martin Cherry is still in the house!" Such was the case. In the rush from the hotel none of the other prisoners had given a thought to him in their anxiety to escape; and after that no opportunity had presented itself for him to leave the hotel, even if he had been able, for during the firing earlier in the day he had been badly wounded. The reader may imagine the feeling of horror that ran through the crowd at the thought that the helpless old man must die in the flames with the outlaws whose death the police were bent on compassing.

        As the fire rapidly spread, and it was seen that the whole building would soon be enveloped in flames, the excitement among the crowd increased. Kate Kelly now came upon the scene and joined her sister, wailing in accents of deepest grief, "Oh, my poor, poor brother!" Then Mrs. Skillian rushed forward, declaring that she would see Dan before he died, and was rapidly making her way to the burning building when the police ordered her back. And at this juncture Father Gibney stepped forward and expressed his determination of saving Cherry if the old man was still alive. Holding the crucifix aloft, and amid the cheers of the crowd, the brave priest walked rapidly up to the door of the burning building, and was soon lost to view amidst the dense smoke. A moment later the whole structure appeared to burst into a blaze, masses of flame rushing out from the sides and the roof simultaneously. A shout of horror went up from the crowd, and a simultaneous movement was made towards the burning pile. Several policemen and others ran to the rear of the house, and rushed into the building through the back door; and shortly afterwards they emerged with Father Gibney in their midst, bearing in their arms the old man Cherry, who was in a dying condition, and the body of Joe Byrne.

        By this time very little doubt remained concerning the fate of Dan Kelly and Hart. That portion of the hotel in which they were was burning most fiercely, and it was concluded that they must be dead. The fact was made plain when some of the rescue party affirmed that they had seen the forms of the two outlaws prostrate in the burning room, but had not been able to get to them. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to stand and wait until the fire had burnt itself out. Then a sickening sight presented itself. From the smouldering embers were raked out the two charred skeletons of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart. How they had died could not be ascertained, and the spectators were left to conjecture whether they had been shot down by the police during one of the heavy fusilades or been suffocated by the smoke and heat, or whether each had shot the other or himself. The mystery has not been and never in this world will be cleared up. The bodies presented a horrible spectacle—nothing but the trunk and skull being left, and these almost burnt to a cinder. Their armour was found lying by their side, and although there was nothing about the remains to lead to their identification, the presence of the armour and other circumstances rendered doubt as to the identity of the dead men impossible. And the fact of the armour having been removed before death lends colour to the supposition that in their last spirit of desperation they took off the iron, so as to allow their own shots to take effect.

        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. The body likewise presented a dreadful appearance. It looked as if it had been ill-nourished. The thin 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, corroborated the statement that Byrne died early in the morning. He had a ring on his right hand, which had belonged to Constable Scanlan, who was murdered by the gang in 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.

        Poor old Cherry, who had been too severely wounded to leave the house when the others did, was found by Father Gibney in an outer room at the rear of the building, and was dying when carried out. He was promptly removed to a short distance from the burning hotel, and laid on the ground, when Father Gibney administered to him the last sacrament. Cherry was insensible, and barely alive. He had evidently suffered much during the day, and death released him. He was born at Limerick, Ireland, and was sixty years old; was unmarried, was an old resident in the district, and was employed as a plate-layer, and resided about a mile from Glenrowan.

        While the house was burning, some explosions were heard inside. These were alarming at first, but it was soon ascertained that they were cartridges bursting, and no damage was done by them. All that was left standing of the hotel were two brick chimneys, the lamp post, and the signboard, and these served for many days afterwards as forcible reminders to every traveller on the railway that the place they were passing had been the scene of a conflict unique in the history of Australia. The black ashes were covered in part by the sheets of corrugated iron that had formed the roof. The iron was pierced by innumerable bullet and slug holes, and on the chimneys also were a number of bullet marks, showing how fierce and constant the firing of the attacking party had been. The wrecks of two iron bedsteads, a sewing machine, and a few tin cans, some of which bore shot marks, were the only recognisable objects in the debris.

        After the house had been burned, Ned Kelly's three sisters and Tom Wright were allowed an interview with him at the station. 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, although 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 ammunition, 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," replied 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 did not care a — who was in it, but I knew on Sunday 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 everyone of the — traps, and not give one a chance."

Mrs. Skillian 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 broken the first fire. I got away into the bush and found my mare, and could have rushed away to beggary, but wanted to see the thing out, and remained in the bush."

        A sad scene ensued when Wild Wright led Mrs. Skillian 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 postmortem examination.

        Subsequently the charred remains of the two outlaws were taken to MacDonnell's hotel, and here Dick Hart, the brother of Steve, openly dared the police (who were not present) to interfere in any way with the funerals, declaring that if they wanted the bodies back they would have to fight for them. Later on they were removed to Mrs. Skillian's hut at Greta, and their arrival caused great excitement in the town among the numerous friends and relatives of the Kelly family residing in the locality. They were laid out on a table in the hut, which was soon crowded. So great was the rush that Mrs. Skillian lost her temper, and, seizing a gun, hustled the crowd out, and then allowed them to view the remains in couples. Many of the male sympathisers were armed, and, whilst in a drunken state, professed to be anxious for a brush with the police. One of the relatives of the Kellys held up his hand over the remains and swore to Kate Kelly that he would be revenged for the slaughter of the gang. His name was subsequently given to the police. Lest any disturbance should take place in the district whilst the sympathisers were in this state of intoxication and excitement, Senior-constable Kelly and four troopers were sent on again to Glenrowan, and remained there some time; but beyond a little bluster, nothing occurred to warrant direct interference. The police were quite satisfied with what had been done in the direction of breaking up the gang; and having killed three of the principals and secured the fourth, ready for the hangman's rope if he should recover from his wounds, they were disposed to pass over much that the gang's sympathisers might say and do. No inquest was held upon these bodies, the police considering that it was wiser not to interfere until the excitement had cooled down.

        An inquest was held upon Byrne's body, but the proceedings were conducted so quietly that no one knew of the affair until it was over, and there were only two or three persons in the court house, where the inquiry was held. The inquiry was of a purely formal character, and a verdict of justifiable homicide was returned.

        Old Cherry's body was interred quietly at Benalla on the following Tuesday, as also was Byrne's body, the police undertaking the interment of the latter, much against the wish of Byrne's friends, who applied for the remains to be handed over to them, but met with a refusal, the reason of which was not clearly stated. During the forenoon the body of Byrne was brought out of the lock-up, where it lay, and slung up in an erect position on the outside of the door, the object being to have it photographed by an enterprising artist from Melbourne. The features were composed in a natural way, and were easily recognised. The face was small, with retreating forehead, blue eyes, the upper lip covered with a downy moustache, and a bushy beard covering his chin, whilst his hair had been recently cut. His figure was that of a tall, lithe young fellow. The spectacle, however, was very repulsive. The hands were clenched and covered with blood, whilst blood also covered his clothes. The police soon had the body removed from the public gaze. The officers, policemen, trackers, and civilians who were there at the barracks, and who were present at the encounter, were also photographed in a group.

        During the day Detective Ward proceeded to Glenrowan, and on making some inquiries, discovered five of the horses of the gang stabled at Macdonnell's Railway Hotel, which stood on the east side or the line opposite the scene of the fight. They had evidently been fasting ever since they had been stabled there, which of course was on the arrival of the gang two days before. Why Mr. Macdonnell did not give voluntary information to the police concerning the horses was not explained. The horses were all brought to Benalla, and two of them were identified as having been stolen within the previous fortnight from Mr. Ryan's farm on the Major Plains. One of the two was ridden by Joe Byrne when he committed the murder of Sherritt, at the Woolshed, near Beechworth, on the Saturday. A third was recognised as a pack-horse belonging to Mr. Fitzsimmons, of Benalla, and was stolen from his farm, near Greta, about twelve days before. Ned Kelly's grey mare was also caught, and brought on to Benalla. On one of the horses was found one of the Government saddles taken from the police horses on the occasion of the Mansfield murders. It may be here mentioned that the gang brought the pack-horses with them for the purpose of carrying their armour.