ation of the day. Telegrams were
sent the length and breadth of the Colonies; ships' passenger-lists were
examined, and no trace of the fugitives from justice--so the papers
called them--could be discovered. On the next afternoon, the boys called
on the Inspector, sent up their cards and coolly asked for the warrants.
The Inspector's face was a study when he was told where they had been
staying. They were then formally served with the informations.

Each newspaper vied with the other in giving their readers as many
particulars, real or imagined, as possible and the boys were besieged
with reporters. The public were informed that the charge was not denied,
and that the accused considered their action fully justified. Details
were given of the curious type of ear-mark, which was stated to be Mr.
Wyckliffe's device. The Sydney correspondent telegraphed the surprise
felt in the highest circles, and the indignation expressed at the
dastardly act, as Mr. Wyckliffe was well-known there. The Brisbane
correspondent sent all that could be gleaned from their Dalby and
Toowoomba agents, and the romance and the excitement grew in equal
proportions. Later editions reported that the eminent Q.C., Mr. Qurves,
had been retained for the prosecution, and that Dr. Haddon had
undertaken the defence.

Next day the case was called in a crowded court, but the defendants
asked for, and obtained, a remand of a week to allow witnesses to be
brought.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE TRIAL.

At length, the day of the celebrated trial of Wyckliffe _v._ Morris and
Winter dawned. Never since the days of the trial of Ned Kelly had
popular excitement been so keen. The newspapers were full of the case.
It was the absorbing topic throughout the colonies, and the conjectures
as to the result were numerous.

The Melbourne Law Courts are housed in a huge building, which cost
hundreds of thousands of pounds, and is acknowledged to be the largest
in the Colonies. But it was not in this palatial building that the great
case was tried, but as is usually the way in a dilapidated, stuffy,
little police-court, with dingy walls, bad ventilation, and greasy
seats.

Long before the commencement of the trial, large crowds had gathered
round the doors, not one tenth of whom could have found seats in the
miserable building, that would scarcely hold two hundred people. The
boys had secured passes for their friends to the gallery.

The bench was overcrowded with gentl