HOW THE SPECIAL TRAIN WAS SAVED.

        The first news of Sherritt's murder appears to have been received in Melbourne on the Sunday afternoon by the Chief Secretary, who immediately communicated with Captain Standish, Chief Commissioner of Police, with whom he consulted. The result of that consultation was the decision to at once dispatch a special train with police to Beechworth—just what the outlaws expected would be done—previous experience having proved that if they allowed the Kellys to get a good start all the police in the country would not be able to come up with them, or even track them to their retreat. The Minister for Railways was informed of the decision arrived at, and within a short time a special train was placed at the disposal of the now restless authorities, the object being to get the black-trackers, who, as the reader will remember, had been withdrawn from the Kelly country, preparatory to returning to Queensland, back to Benalla, in order that they might accompany Superintendent Hare and the men under him to Beechworth. Word was sent to that officer that the special would arrive at Benalla shortly after midnight, and having gathered a company of police from the different stations Hare was prepared to join the special immediately upon its arrival, or run with it in another special containing his men, horses, ammunition, etc., to Beechworth—which station they expected to reach about four o'clock in the morning (Monday)—when men and horses would be unshipped and a start at once made for Sherritt's, where the black-trackers could pick up the tracks and follow the outlaws.

        Before the special left the head station at Melbourne a party of five reporters connected with the city press had been told off for the journey in search of news. Owing to the engines being all cold when the call for the special was made, a start was not effected until a quarter past ten; but once started, no time was lost on the road. At Essendon Inspector O'Connor and his five black-trackers were picked up, together with two ladies—Mrs. O'Connor and her sister—who seized the opportunity as a favourable one for an exciting run to Beechworth. It proved more exciting than the ladies anticipated or desired.

        Benalla was reached at half past one o'clock, a delay having taken place on the road by the special running through a closed gate near Craigieburn. Superintendent Hare was in waiting at the station with eight men and seventeen horses, and these having been "carriaged" for the hurried journey, a consultation was held as to the best mode of procedure—for rumours were already afloat that at some spot between that point and Beechworth the Kellys had been at work with dynamite, and had blown up portions of the line; and although all this appeared to be pure conjecture, both the railway officials and the police officers decided that every precaution should be taken to avoid falling into a trap. The moon was shining brightly at the time, and Superintendent Hare decided that one of the troopers should for the nonce be elevated to the position of advance guard; so arrangements were made for Constable Barry to be strapped to the brass rod which ran alongside the engine, and standing on the side-plate in front thus secured a constant lookout. But this plan was abandoned for a better one. A spare engine on the station was utilised as a pilot, and was sent on in advance, the arrangement being made that it should keep at a distance of about a hundred and fifty yards in front of the train. Inspector O'Connor, Superintendent Hare, and the two ladies occupied one compartment, the five reporters another, and the police and trackers a third; and after a little delay a start was made, the intention being not to pull up until Wangaratta was reached, a station about twenty-three miles from Benalla, fourteen miles from Glenrowan, and about fifty miles from Beechworth.

        The special had not gone more than about twelve miles from Benalla, however, when the occupants, who were by this time settling down for the journey, were startled by a sudden stoppage. In a moment they were all on the alert, making anxious inquiries as to the cause of the interruption. A shrill whistle from the pilot engine and the exposure of danger signals had caused the driver of the special to bring the train to a sudden stand, and no sooner had this been done than Superintendent Hare seized his rifle, clambered down from the carriage, and proceeded towards the pilot engine, which was also stationary on the line. On the way he met the guard, who was returning with a story both strange and startling. He said that as he was driving along he saw a red light on the line; pulling up to ascertain what it was, a man who said he was a schoolmaster had rushed forward and told him that Glenrowan was in the possession of the Kelly gang, who had torn up the line just beyond the station for the purpose of destroying the special when it came along. The man, he said, had refused to stop, and had disappeared into the forest as soon as he had delivered his sensational piece of information, saying that he must return to his wife, and could not even wait to see the superintendent. The news was soon imparted to the occupants of the special, who did not know how to accept it, as the man who had supplied it made off in a manner that was in itself suspicious. It was decided, however, to push on a little further, Glenrowan station being only about a mile distant, but to exercise the utmost care and keep even a more vigilant look-out. The five representatives of the press realised that they were on the border of sensational developments, and thinking that some stray bullets might find their way into their compartment if there was an engagement, they piled up the cushions of the carriage against the windows and extinguished the light. Calling three of his men, Superintendent Hare with them got on the pilot engine, and placed four other men on the engine of the special, both being coupled together, and half the men facing one side of the line and half the other side. In this way the train steamed slowly and almost noiselessly along, until they came to Glenrowan station, which they found in total darkness and without occupants.

        Here again, however, I must make a break, in order that the remainder of Curnow's story may be given. His wife and sister, it will be remembered, stoutly opposed his purpose of giving warning to the police at Benalla—fourteen miles distant—on account of the risk to both themselves and him; but his mind was set upon the task, and this is his version of how he accomplished it:—

While the discussion was going on, and supper was being got ready, I quietly prepared everything, including the red llama scarf, candles, and matches, to go to Benalla, intending to keep as close to the railway line as I could, in case of the special coming before I could reach there. I declared to my wife that I did not intend to go by the road—that I meant to keep as close to the line as possible, in order to be safer. At last my sister gave way, but my wife worked herself into such an excited and hysterical state that she declared that she would not leave the house—that if I would go she would stay there, and she, the baby, and my sister would be murdered. I wanted to take them to my mother-in-law's farm, about one-third of a mile from my place, for safety while I was away. At length Mrs. Curnow consented to go to her mother's to obtain advice, and we were momentarily expecting the promised visit from one of the gang. I left the doors unlocked, and wrote a note, leaving it on the table, stating that we had gone to Mrs. Mortimer's to obtain medicine, as Mrs. Curnow was taken ill. My sister wore her red llama scarf at my request. When we got there Mrs. Curnow was exceedingly anxious to get home again, and would not stay there, and we went back. I succeeded in persuading Mrs. Curnow to go to bed, and my sister and I told her I had given up my project.

My sister engaged my wife's attention while I went out to harness my horse to go, for I could not rest, and felt that I must perform what was clearly my duty. I heard the train coming in the distance as I was harnessing my horse, and I immediately caught up the candle, scarf, and matches, and ran down the line to meet the train. I ran on until I got to where I could see straight before me some distance along the line, and where those in the train would be able to see the danger-signal. I then lit the candle and held it behind the red scarf.

As the guard's van got opposite me I caught sight of the guard, who shouted, "What's the matter?" I yelled, "The Kellys!" and the pilot engine then stopped a little past me, and the guard got down. I told the guard of the line being torn up just beyond the station, and of the Kelly gang lying in wait at the station for the special train of police. He said a special train was behind him, and he would go to the station and then pull up. I cried, "No, no; don't you do that, or you will get shot." He then said he would go back and stop the special, which was coming on. He asked me who I was, and I told him I was the school-teacher there, and requested him not to divulge who it was that stopped and warned him, as I was doing it at the risk of my life. He promised to keep my name secret. He asked me to jump in the van, but I declined, as my wife and sister were without protection. The pilot engine whistled several times while I was talking to the guard.

The pilot went back, and I hastened home and found Mrs. Curnow had been almost insane while I was stopping the train, and had been made worse by the whistling of the pilot engine. She would not leave the house after I had stopped the train, and we blew out the lights to seem to be in bed. My sister hid the red scarf and my wet clothes, and we were going to deny that it was I who had stopped the train, if one of the outlaws came down to us.

NEXT: CONFLICT

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