we could make more money in one night by
sticking up a coach or a bank than in any other way in a year. That when
we had done it, we were no worse off than we were now, as far as being
outlaws, and there was a chance--not a very grand one, but still
a chance--that we might find a way to clear out of New South Wales
altogether.

So we settled it at that. We had plenty of good horses--what with
the young ones coming on, that Warrigal could break, and what we had
already. There was no fear of running short of horse-flesh. Firearms we
had enough for a dozen men. They were easy enough to come by. We knew
that by every mail-coach that travelled on the Southern or Western line
there was always a pretty fair sprinkling of notes sent in the letters,
besides what the passengers might carry with them, watches, rings, and
other valuables. It wasn't the habit of people to carry arms, and if
they did, there isn't one in ten that uses 'em. It's all very well to
talk over a dinner-table, but any one who's been stuck up himself knows
that there's not much chance of doing much in the resisting line.

Suppose you're in a coach, or riding along a road. Well, you're expected
and waited for, and the road party knows the very moment you'll turn up.
They see you a-coming. You don't see them till it's too late. There's a
log or something across the road, if it's a coach, or else the driver's
walking his horses up a steepish hill. Just at the worst pinch or at a
turn, some one sings out 'Bail up.' The coachman sees a strange man in
front, or close alongside of him, with a revolver pointed straight
at him. He naturally don't like to be shot, and he pulls up. There's
another man covering the passengers in the body of the coach, and he
says if any man stirs or lifts a finger he'll give him no second chance.
Just behind, on the other side, there's another man--perhaps two. Well,
what's any one, if he's ever so game, to do? If he tries to draw a
weapon, or move ever so little, he's rapped at that second. He can only
shoot one man, even if his aim is good, which it's not likely to
be. What is more, the other passengers don't thank him--quite the
contrary--for drawing the fire on them. I have known men take away a
fellow's revolver lest he should get them all into trouble. That was a
queer start, wasn't it? Actually preventing a man from resisting. They
were quite right, though; he could only have done mischief and made it
harder for himself and ever