A few days later Gilbert and O'Meally went to a cattle station some miles from Burrangong and rounded up the horses. A stock-rider galloped up and ordered them to desist. Gilbert told him that they were troopers and had orders from Her Majesty the Queen to take any horses they required. The stockman then assisted them to catch two of the best.
On Saturday, October 23rd, Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, Burke, and Vane walked into Mr. Perdrotta's gunsmith's shop in William Street, Bathurst, opposite the School of Arts, and asked to see some revolvers. They were shown a number, but said they were common things and no good. Mr. Perdrotta said he had sold out. There had been a run on revolvers lately on account of the bushrangers, but he expected a new stock up from Sydney in a few days. The robbers laughed heartily, and said that the bushrangers required to be looked after. They promised to call again in a few days. They walked up the street to McMinn's Hotel, and went in as the family were sitting down to tea. Miss McMinn recognised them and screamed. She was ordered to keep quiet, but as this made her scream louder the bushrangers left. The report that the bushrangers were in the town spread like wild-fire, and the streets were crowded with excited people in a few minutes. It was rumoured that the bushrangers had robbed Mr. De Clouett, in Piper Street, and that De Clouett had recognised Johnny Gilbert as a jockey who had ridden for him some years before. The police hastily armed and mounted, when suddenly the bushrangers, mounted on their horses, with revolvers in their hands, dashed through the crowd in Howick Street, shouting, "Two of us is good for forty—— troopers." The crowd scattered to let them pass. The bushrangers rode through the street at a gallop and left the town in the direction of the timbered country, avoiding the roads. The police followed close behind, but the bushrangers had the faster horses and got away.
On October 17th, Mr. Robinson, of Robinson's Hotel, Canowindra, was awakened at about 1.30 a.m. by a loud knocking. He went to the door and asked, "Who's there?" The reply was, "The police." Robinson opened the door and was immediately ordered to "bail up." The visitors were Hall, Gilbert, and O'Meally, the bushrangers. Mr. Robinson gave them £3, which he took from a drawer, and said that was all the money he had in the house. He begged them to go away. They refused, and insisted on every one in the house getting up at once. After some delay the family and Mr. Kieran Cummings, a lodger, were collected in the dining-room. The bushrangers took charge and served out drinks all round. When time for opening the house came, the bushrangers stationed themselves, one at each end of the verandah and the third in the bar. They bailed up fourteen bullock-drivers who were camped near the township, and compelled them to leave their teams in the street as they arrived. The robbers took anything they required or fancied from the drays and marched the drivers into the dining-room of the hotel. During the morning, Messrs. Hibberson, Twaddell, and Kirkpatrick drove up to the hotel in a buggy. They were compelled to alight and go into the dining-room. Ben Hall, seeing that Mr. Kirkpatrick carried a revolver, requested him to "oblige by handing that thing over. Not that we want it, you know; but it might go off by accident." Mr. Kirkpatrick laughed, and gave him the weapon. Hall examined it carefully and said, "We've got better than that. We'll leave it for you at Louden's, at Grubbenbong, so that you may get it when you pass." Mrs. Robinson and the cook were released and ordered to get a "first-class dinner for the gentlemen, and we'll pay for it." The prisoners were well treated. Food was brought in at intervals, and bottles of brandy were placed on the table for all to help themselves as they pleased. Several boxes of cigars were ordered, and these were opened and the cigars thrown along the table. Robinson had promised not to "try any hanky panky," and was allowed to go to the bar. Everything ordered was paid for without delay or dispute. Gilbert walked to the lock-up, called out the solitary policeman who was stationed in the town, and made him march down to the hotel. Here he was given his musket, and ordered to pace up and down before the verandah as if on sentry duty. When they grew tired of showing their contempt for "the force" in this manner the gun was taken away and the policeman conducted into the dining-room and placed with the other prisoners to "enjoy himself like the rest." The robbers drank very little themselves. Occasionally they ordered a bottle of English beer, and drew the cork themselves after having examined it carefully to make sure that it had not been tampered with. On the Wednesday morning Mr. Hibberson begged hard to be allowed to go. He said that he and his friends had enjoyed themselves very much, and would have been willing to stay longer to oblige, but the river was beginning to rise, and if it came down as usual at that time of the year they might not be able to cross for a month. This would interfere seriously with their business. The bushrangers listened to this plea, and then withdrew. After a consultation which lasted several minutes, Hall came back, and said they thought it was "a fair thing." They were very much obliged to the gentlemen for their contributions towards the general amusement, and they graciously gave them permission to fetch their horses from the stable and start. An hour or so later the other persons in the dining-room were told that they might go. This spree must have been an expensive one. The bushrangers only took a few pounds to start with, while they paid for everything that was consumed by the crowd between 1.30 a.m. on Monday and noon on Wednesday. At first there had been a feeling of restraint, caused, perhaps, by fear or uncertainty, but this soon wore off, and the party ended by being a very merry one. Several games were started. Songs were sung, and one of the bullock-drivers had a concertina and played dance music; several of the members of the party danced. The women and children were allowed to go to bed, but the men had to sleep with their heads on the table. The bushrangers only slept for short naps in turn. On leaving Canowindra the bushrangers rode straight to Mr. Grant's place, at Balubula, called him out, and accused him of having given information to the police as to their movements. As a punishment they burned his house, stacks, and standing crop.
A week later, on October 24th, Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, Vane, and Burke rode up to Assistant Gold Commissioner Keightley's house, at Dunn's Plains, near Rockley, and called on him to come out. Mr. Keightley had been standing on the verandah, and on seeing them coming had rushed in and slammed the door. As he did not obey, the bushrangers fired some shots at the windows. Keightley returned the fire, and Burke fell, crying out "I'm done for." There was very little ammunition in the house and when this was expended Keightley surrendered. He asked only that the women should not be molested. Vane swore he would avenge Burke by shooting Keightley. Mrs. Baldock, wife of the camp-keeper, who was acting as general servant at the time, rushed between the men and pushed Vane back, crying at the time, "Oh! don't shoot him! Recollect his wife and her little baby." Dr. Peechy, who was present, also interfered, but was knocked down with the butt of a revolver. Mrs. Baldock again pushed Vane away, saying, "Don't hurt the doctor. He never did you any harm." Vane was much excited and swore a great deal, but he did not even push the woman away. Presently Hall, who had been some distance away, came up and told Vane to keep cool. He added that it was impossible to say in the mêlée who shot Burke. "Why," he exclaimed, "I might have done it myself." After a short time order was restored, and the doctor then said that Burke was not dead. He offered to go to Rockley for his instruments and to return immediately. Hall said "What's the good? Better shoot him and put him out of his misery." A discussion followed, and at length permission was given to the doctor to go to his house for his instruments, after he had solemnly promised "not to bring the traps" on them. After the doctor's departure O'Meally declared his intention of taking Keightley down the paddock and shooting him. He told the Gold Commissioner "to come on," but Mrs. Keightley rushed between them and said he should shoot her before he took her husband away. Hall again interfered and order was restored. When the doctor returned he found that Burke was dead. A lengthy discussion took place as to what should be done with Keightley. O'Meally and Vane wished to shoot him. Hall and Gilbert were in favour of holding him to ransom, and Mrs. Keightley undertook to pay them £500 if they would spare his life. Finally an agreement was arrived at. Mrs. Keightley was to ride to Bathurst and bring back the money by two p.m. the next day (Sunday). If she failed to return at that time, or brought any one back with her, her husband and Doctor Peechy were to be shot. The distance from Rockley to Bathurst was twenty-five miles, but Mrs. Keightley started without misgiving. The bushrangers refused to stop in the house during the night in case of surprise. They took their prisoners and camped with them on a knoll, some distance away, from the top of which they had a good view of the Bathurst Road for several miles. This they declared would give them time to shoot their hostages and ride away if treachery was attempted. Mrs. Keightley obtained the necessary amount of money from her father, Mr. Rolton, M.L.A., and returned home an hour before the stipulated time. She handed the money to Ben Hall, who complimented her on her endurance and pluck. Then Mr. Keightley and Dr. Peechy were told that they were free, and the bushrangers mounted and rode off. When this outrage was reported, the rewards offered for the capture, dead or alive, of Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, and Vane, were increased to £1000, while £100 was offered for the capture of any other of their accomplices.
A bullock-driver left Burrangong, after having disposed of his load of produce, and camped near the Burrangong Creek, a few miles from the diggings, when three men with blackened faces, and further disguised with spectacles, called on him. They demanded the £45 which he had received in payment for his load, proving that they had somehow established a very effective system of espionage in the diggings. He admitted that that was the sum for which he had sold his load, but denied having the money, asserting that he had paid it away. They disbelieved him, and searched him and his dray, shaking out his blankets and tarpaulin. They found about £3 in notes and silver, and went off with it. The bullock-driver had been too wide awake for them. He had heard them coming along the road, and knowing how the district was infested with robbers, had hastily thrust his roll of notes under a log near his camp fire.
Peter Toohey was driving the mail coach on the road between Burrangong and Cowra, when he was ordered to bail up by three armed men. Instead of obeying he lashed his horses into a gallop, and did not pull up until he reached Mr. Allen's station at Wattamundera. The bushrangers followed for a mile or more and snapped their revolvers at him, but they were either not loaded or missed fire. In recording this event the Burrangong Courier remarked that this was probably the fastest three miles on record for a "Cobb's coach." This, however, is very doubtful. The Courier does not give the time, but some very tall tales of coach-racing have been given in the Victorian newspapers of the races run by opposition coaches on the roads from Melbourne to Bendigo and from Geelong to Ballarat in early diggings days.
The same paper reported that Constable Clark chased and captured two supposed bushrangers near Marengo on August 30th. When they reached the lock-up they were identified as Kate Meally and Elizabeth Mayhew. They were detained, but the next morning Sergeant Monaghan asked the magistrate to discharge the prisoners, as he had ascertained from enquiries that the girls only went out "for a bit of a spree in their brothers' clothes."
Mr. David Henry Campbell was sitting in his house on the Goimbla sheep station on the evening of November 19th when he heard footsteps on the verandah. Being suspicious as to the character of the visitors, he seized his gun and retreated to an inner room, while his brother William retired by another door. Mrs. Campbell was in the bedroom. The bushrangers came to the front door, and fired into the room. Mr. Campbell returned the fire, and the bushrangers retreated. They went to the stackyard, and fired the barn and haystack. They then returned to the house, which was illuminated by the blazing of the barn and stack. Mrs. Campbell came out of the bedroom, and spoke a few words to her husband. Then she crossed the front parlour in full view of the bushrangers, took a second gun and a powder flask from the corner, and returned to her husband. The bushrangers fired at her, but missed, and they then retreated along the verandah to where the shadow cast by the blazing stack concealed them. After waiting a few minutes Mrs. Campbell, thinking, as she could hear no sound except the roaring of the flames, that the bushrangers had gone away, stealthily crossed the front room and peeped out of the window. She saw three men standing near the stackyard, and went back to inform her husband. Mr. Campbell immediately left the house by the back door, crept gently along the fence, taking care to keep in the shadow, and approached the men as closely as possible without giving them the alarm. He recognised the man nearest to him as O'Meally, and fired. O'Meally fell. Almost at the same moment the police, having seen the reflection of the fire miles away, and had ridden over to ascertain its cause, came galloping up. Hall and Gilbert, the two other bushrangers, hastily mounted their horses and went off under cover of the darkness. O'Meally's body was conveyed to Bathurst, where an inquest was held, and a verdict of justifiable homicide was returned. The Bathurst Times reported that locks of O'Meally's hair were being shown about and sold in the town, and protested against it. The paper said that the authorities had no right to allow this desecration of the body, even of a bushranger and murderer. "The police," it added, "would not have dared to touch his hair had he been alive. Probably Pottinger and the army of troopers that swarmed round Goimbla when the danger was passed each took a lock of his hair in memoriam when their enemy lay prostrate and dead." A public meeting was held in Sydney on March 3rd to consider what means should be adopted to recognise the bravery of Mr. Campbell in daring to resist the bushrangers and shooting O'Meally. A number of prominent men gave addresses, and it was resolved that a public subscription should be taken up to recoup him for the loss of his barn and stacks. The amount collected at the meeting and during a few days after totalled £1100. Mr. Campbell was also awarded a gold medal by the Government.
The violent deaths of Lowry, Burke, and O'Meally, in so short a time, seemed to have very little effect on the gang, which continued its depredations. Neither did these deaths prevent other young men from adopting the "profession of bushranger." In fact the deaths of a few bushrangers appear to have had less effect in deterring the criminally disposed from taking to the roads than the immunity enjoyed by the leaders offered encouragement. Bushranging was increasing instead of diminishing, although for a few months very little was heard of the Hall and Gilbert Gang. There was also some comedy mingled with the prevailing tragedy. For instance, a blackfellow met Alexander Sinclair, near Killoshiel, and enquired how far it was to Bathurst? Sinclair told him, and was immediately ordered to "get off that horse." The rider hesitated, but the darkey pushed him off the saddle, sprang into it himself, and galloped away threatening to shoot Sinclair if he followed, although it is very doubtful whether he had any arms on him. The same blackfellow took possession of another horse in a similar manner a few hours later some miles along the road. He rode both horses until they knocked up, and then abandoned them. They were afterwards found feeding in the bush with their saddles and bridles still on. It was supposed that the blackfellow was just pining for a gallop and adopted this means of gratifying himself. He was not traced.
Sergeant Donohoe captured William Dunne after an exciting chase through the ranges, and as the sergeant did not know his way back to the high road, he compelled his prisoner to lie down and waited patiently until some other policemen went out in search of him. Neither the sergeant nor his prisoner had any food for forty-eight hours. The police also captured George Bermingham. This man was a printer, born in Sydney, and was twenty-one years of age. When taken he was full of braggadocio, boasted loudly of the number of people he had stuck up, and talked familiarly of Vane and Johnny Gilbert. He laughed at the idea of Ben Hall having been shot as had been rumoured, and said, "Wait till he's spent the five hundred quid he got from Keightley, and you'll soon hear of him again." Sergeant Donohoe said he had followed Dunne because he recognised the magnificent chestnut horse he was riding as one ridden by the robbers of the Cooma mail. Dunne and Bermingham were sent to gaol for ten years for having been concerned in this robbery.