Page:In bad company and other stories.djvu/148

 Gardiner, Hall, and Gilbert, from the Clarkes and the Peisleys, from O'Malley and Vane, from Bourke and Dunn. He differed as the wolf differs from the hound, the carrion vulture from the eagle. His cunning on all occasions equalled his malignity, his brutal cruelty, his lust for wanton bloodshed. Rarely was it, after one of his carefully-planned surprises, when he swooped down upon a defenceless station, that he abstained from injury to person or property.

He was skilful and persevering in discovering his 'enemies,' as he called them,—a not too difficult task,—for he had abettors and sympathisers, scoundrels who harboured and spied for him, as well as those who, fearing the vengeance of an unscrupulous ruffian, dared not refuse food or assistance. Those whom he suspected of giving information to the police or providing them with horses when on his trail he never forgave, often wreaking cruel vengeance on them when the opportunity came. He would reconnoitre from the hill or thicket for days beforehand. When the men of the household were absent or otherwise employed, he would suddenly appear upon the scene, to revel in the terror he created; certain to destroy valuable property, if indeed he did not imbrue his hands in blood before he quitted the spot.

It was, for the most part, his habit to 'work' as a solitary robber; he rarely had a companion, although in the encounter with Mr. Baylis, the Police Magistrate of Wagga Wagga, when that gentleman showed a noble example by bravely attacking him in his lair, it is supposed that his then companion was badly wounded. Mr. Baylis was shot through the body, but that man was never seen alive again. The popular impression was that Morgan killed him, so that he might not impede his flight or give information. The tale may not be true, but it shows the quality of his reputation.

It seems wonderful that Morgan should have been so long permitted to run the gauntlet of the police of two colonies. It may be doubted whether, in the present efficient state of the New South Wales force, any notorious outlaw would enjoy so protracted a 'reign,' as the provincial phrase goes. He had great odds in his favour. A consummate horseman like most of his class, a practical bushman and stock-rider, with a command of scouts who knew every inch of the country, and could thread at midnight every range and thicket between