his hand to impose silence.

'I have a great bit of news, men,' he said. 'The day before yesterday, at
five in the afternoon, the M'Ivor escort was stuck up on the corduroy
road in the Black Forest, and the gang got away with all the gold.'

This information was greeted with a yell of amazement, in which Jim
thought he detected no little exultation. It was the greatest coup
executed by the gangs since the opening of the goldfields; its magnitude
astounded everybody.

'The robbers came on the escort suddenly, shot their horses under them,
and carried off the whole swag,' Lambert continued.

'Whose gang?' 'Who 're suspected?' A score of voices shouted questions.

'It is believed that the raid was headed by Solo!'

'No, no; Solo goes alone!' cried a foremost miner with absolute
conviction.

'He has always worked alone before, but it is pretty certain that this
raid was planned and carried out by Solo, and that he had behind him a
gang of the coolest and most daring robbers in the colony He outwitted
the troopers at every point; they had no more chance with him than so
many sheep. The fools had their carbines strapped behind them, as usual.
Before they could fire a shot they were at the mercy of the thieves.' The
crowd yelled again-a yell of derision. The discomfiture of the troopers
was a source of grim satisfaction. Lambert held up his hand once more.

'This Solo is a ruffian and a robber. When we say that he stops short of
murder we say the best we can for him; but the Government that denies to
citizens the rights of men, and enforces laws the people have no voice in
making through a vicious and brutal constabulary, cannot look to citizens
to respect those laws or feel any sympathy with its officers.'

'You're right, old man!' The crowd took advantage of the pause that
followed to raise a clamour of fierce words.

'I have more news for you,' said the orator. 'The cause of liberty is
spreading, deepening, strengthening. We are on the verge of civil war.
Latest information from Ballarat, Bendigo, and all the large centres
shows that the hour of strenuous resistance, of resistance to the death,
has almost come. Even now it may have struck. As I speak, the men of
Ballarat may be shedding their blood to rescue our adopted country from
the foul and foolish rule of that pitiful handful of nominees in
Melbourne, the despicable instruments of a far-off power that is as
ignorant of our needs as it is careless of our suff