'Some of them. I know Bill Hardwick, and the man with the leg-irons, but not his name. Yes; I know the one with the black beard—they called him the President.'
'Who called him by that title?'
'The shearers, or rioters, or loafers, whoever they were. They were six of one and half-a-dozen of the other, if you ask me.'
'Never mind answering what you are not asked. What did you see them do?'
'Well—Mr. President and his mob, all armed, made Bill and me and eight or nine other chaps that came down from Tandara, prisoners of war, in a manner of speakin'—"robbery under arms" I call it, for they boned our swags, our horses, our grub, and our pack-saddles. I found the horses, when they were boltin' from the police, or we should 'a never seen 'em again; two of us had to ride bareback. I seen that gaol-bird there—he's "done time," I'll take my oath—and another man shovin' Bill Hardwick between them towards the river-bank—one of 'em was puttin' a gun into his hand—swore he'd shoot him if he didn't carry it. I saw one of 'em fire at the boat. I'd not swear he hit anybody. I heard the "President" say, "We'll burn the bally boat; that'll learn 'em to bring 'scabs' down the river." I saw the steamer blaze up after the crew and free labourers was out. Then the police came, and Martin, my mate, and I cleared for our lives. We caught our horses in a bend and rode down the river to Toovale, when we got a non-Union shed, and wired in. That's about all I know.'
By the Crown Prosecutor.
'Your name is Martin Hannigan. Are you an Irishman?'
'No, nor an Englishman either. I'm an Australian, and so was my father. What's that to do with the case?'
'I thought you were rather humorous in your evidence, that's all. The Irish are a witty race, you know.'
'So they say. I've never been there. Anythin' else you'd like to ask me?'