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stable Bracken, having caught a horse, rode off to Wangaratta, seven miles distant, to bring men from there. Superintendent Hare had been wounded in the first volleying, and, after making a gallant attempt to continue on the scene of action, was forced to return, fainting, to the station, and thence to Benalla. At intervals throughout the anxious night the police fired into the hotel, shouting to the captives to lie down or come out. Come out they would not, for fear of being shot. During the night nine fresh policemen arrived on an engine from Benalla, and eight more came in from Wangaratta. Before the dawn came the position of the outlaws was hopeless " I have no hesitation in saying," writes Superintendent 'Hare, " that, had the men been without armour when we first attacked the hotel, and could have taken proper aim, not one of us would have escaped being shot. They were obliged, to hold the rifle at arm's length to get anything of a sight." This necessity seems to have arisen from the fact that each man, when in full armour, wore a great head-piece-a sort of iron pot coming down on to the chest and back, so as to completely cover the throat. In this rude and monstrous style 'of helmet it must have been almost impossible for them to move their heads at all. But, if this were really the case, the fact argues considerable folly and a somewhat astonishing indisposition to risk their lives on the part of the outlaws.

Granting that, in their armour, they were almost safe under fire, they ought to have known that, nevertheless, death or capture was certain unless they could disable their besiegers within the first few hours.

Early on the Monday morning, at about eight o'clock, a tall figure suddenly appeared in the rear of the police line. The police seem to have taken it for one of the black trackers, and held their fire. Suddenly the stranger drew a revolver and fired at one of them. It was Ned Kelly, with a long grey overcoat over his armour. Nine policemen closed in upon him, and a strange fight began. The soft Martini-Henry bullets dinted his armour but did not penetrate. Each time he was struck he staggered but instantly recovered himself "and tapped his breast, laughing deri-

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