overs saw the riderless horse, they supposed that
Macalister had been accidentally thrown, and they sent Friday to look
for him. He found him dead. The blacks had done their work quickly.
They had stripped Donald of everything but his trousers and boots,
had mutilated him in their usual fashion, and had disappeared. A
messenger was sent to old Macalister, and the young man was buried on
the bank of the river near McClure's grave. The new cemetery now
contained three graves, the second being that of Tinker Ned, who shot
himself accidentally when pulling out his gun from beneath a
tarpaulin.

Lachlan Macalister had had a long experience in dealing with
blackfellows and bushrangers; he had been a captain in the army, and
an officer of the border police. The murder of his nephew gave him
both a professional and a family interest in chastising the
criminals, and he soon organised a party to look for them. It was,
of course, impossible to identify any blackfellow concerned in the
outrage, and therefore atonement must be made by the tribe. The
blacks were found encamped near a waterhole at Gammon Creek, and
those who were shot were thrown into it, to the number, it was said,
of about sixty, men, women, and children; but this was probably an
exaggeration. At any rate, the black who capered about to attract
young Macalister's attention escaped, and he often afterwards
described and imitated the part he took in what he evidently
considered a glorious act of revenge. The gun used by old Macalister
was a double-barrelled Purdy, a beautiful and reliable weapon, which
in its time had done great execution.

The dairy business at Greenmount was carried on at a continual loss,
and Glengarry resolved to return to Scotland. He sold his cows and
their increase to Thacker and Mason, of Sydney, for twenty-seven
shillings and sixpence per head; his house was bought by John
Campbell. On the eve of his departure for Sydney in the schooner
'Coquette' (Captain Gaunson), a farewell dinner was given by the
Highlanders at the Old Port, and Long Mason, who had come from Sydney
to take delivery of the cows on behalf of Thacker and Mason, was one
of the guests. But there was more of gloom than of gaiety around the
festive board. All wished well to the young chief, but the very best
of his friends could think of nothing cheerful to say to him. His
enterprise had been a complete failure; the family tree of Clanranald
the Dauntless had re