Tommy got off liis horse at a little distance, and his two comrades held it. He went up to the women. He said to Bolgan, 'You come with me.' On her not obeying, he presented the pistol at them. Her mother said, 'I would not let you have her if I were not afraid you would shoot me as you did her father, Edward.' Then Bolgan got up and went with him. He put her on his horse, tied her feet under its belly, and, holding the bridle, walked off in the direction of the station. The two white men with their guns came last.
Very soon after the canoe came down stream, and the flight was continued till dark. Then they had reached a part of the river where a ledge of rocks crossed it, and they camped. In the night the wounded man died. The following morning the body was placed in the canoe, and conveyed to the west side of the river. The canoe was then cut in two, the corpse rolled in it, and carried a short distance up the hill side. A grave was dug with their tomahawks by a big log where two small stringybark saplings were growing, one on each side at the head, and one other sapling at the feet. While they were burying poor Edward, some 'Bidwell' blacks—a man and woman and two boys—came up, who were related to some of the Snowy River men present, and they cried very much over poor 'Ned.'
The funeral being performed, the sad party plunged westward into the dense scrubs lying between them and their own country, and suffered great hardship, and were nearly starved from want of food before they reached the Snowy River. How long elapsed from this time I know not, till a party set out to revenge the death of Edward; I think it was not many months.
The brother of the murdered man, together with a number of the men of the tribe, made up a 'war party,' went up the coast, revisited the scene of the murder, and traced out the murderer to the Genoa River, where they found him camped with Bolgan as his 'gin,' not 200 yards from the station occupied by his white accomplices. When they first saw him he was looking for horses near the station. 'Wuck wuckun' (the Wonga pigeon) speared him, and he ran off towards the station. The blacks pursued. The white men came out armed, and threatened to shoot the blacks. These said, 'Never mind; if you shoot, we will shoot you,' for they had many guns. The white men were not 'game,' and Dairy Mungee shot Tommy in front of the station. Then they carried off Bolgan in triumph.
Of the two whites who are alleged to have been the participators in this murder, one is said to have committed suicide some years ago, the other, the younger one, still lives in the district.
When an enquiry was instituted—the story having become public after some years—the brother and son of the murdered man were unable to find the spot where he had been buried. Great fires had swept over the place and obliterated the land marks; the log—the young saplings—seemed to have disappeared. Nor could they identify the alleged murderer when placed face to face with him.
I have, however, no doubt that the main facts, as stated, are true. The tale told by all the blacks who were present, and some of whom I have questioned, agree circumstantially. And in following out in the locality itself, step by step,
