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Updated: May 5, 2025
Evil tongues might tattle, but no man could prove that Burridge ever broke the law. One fishing excursion to the bend was enough for Philip, but a pig hunt was organised, and he joined it. The party consisted of Gleeson, McCarthy, Bill the Butcher, Bob Atkins, and George Brown the Liar, who brought a rope-net and a cart in which all the game caught was to be carried home.
The second smashing blow in his face, for which he was totally unprepared, sent Gleeson again to the ground, and also brought home to him the fact that he was very much at a disadvantage, and to a man who was by no means loth to profit by it. He was not a fighter, either by instinct or training.
"Now then, you scab of a mining shark," Palmer Billy said, in the full force of his raucous voice, "you'll say what I bid you, or we'll sink a shaft through your skull and see where your brains lie. D'ye hear?" Gleeson, muddled, dazed, and terrified, mumbled out that he had never done them any harm. "We ain't talking about that, because there ain't no talk in it.
But young Burnet had scarcely checked his mustang, when the sound of someone riding his horse equally fast reached his ear, and the next instant Oscar Gleeson dashed beside him. "Howdy, Baby, is that you?" he asked, peering at the young man dimly seen in the scant yellow rays of the lantern. "Yes, Ballyhoo," was the reply; "I'm in trouble." "What is it?" "I've lost the herd."
A person of the name of Gleeson, who came into his land twenty years ago, was dreadfully beaten, and ordered to give up his farm; and, although five of his sons were present, not one of them informed the police. "Had they done so," says Sir James, "there is but little doubt the perpetrators would have been arrested.
"If a man ain't satisfied with the whackin' we give him," he said, in a tone that penetrated to every corner of the room, and with his eyes fixed on Gleeson in what, to the latter, was a peculiarly disconcerting glance, "why, we're on to whack him again or his mates." "Good iron, Billy," some one yelled. "Set 'em up again."
"This will do for the night; and I reckon the bush is thick enough round here to prevent our fire being seen by any of the mob behind," Gleeson observed, glancing round as his horse strained at the bridle to sniff the cool water at its feet. "It's good enough," Peters replied, as, urging his horse across the creek and on to the open space, he swung himself from the saddle.
"They started out for the cattle a little while ago," replied one of the ranchmen, "thinking as how you might not be able to manage them." "I'd fetched 'em back all right," replied Gleeson, "if it hadn't been for some other business that turned up." "What's that?"
Barton had entered into family relations as an honest man; he could give himself any character he chose until he was found out. He was too frightened to stay another night on Bendigo, and he began at once to bundle up his swag. Gleeson and Poynton accompanied him for some distance beyond the pillar of white quartz on Specimen Hill, and then he left the track and struck into the bush.
Recovering his composure and his swagger as quickly as he could, Gleeson offered to back himself and had his answer from the roomful. Tap, discriminating and crafty, had exchanged glances with Walker, and guessed what was in the air. "I think I'll take those that you don't," he said smoothly; and Gleeson, glad of the hint that his friends were sticking to him, accepted the partnership.
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