and South Gundagai, the former of which was almost washed away in a great flood in 1852. Out of eighty houses only about half-a-dozen remained; a hundred people were drowned, and cattle and sheep swept away in hundreds and thousands. Another township was formed a safe distance from high-water mark. Here we rested for a while, and then made for Dallas’s station, where we stayed for the night, starting again next morning. Mr Dallas gave us a black boy as a guide to take us a short cut to the next station, “Walleendbeen” (Mackay’s). Here we got on the main road, and the guide left us. Now the excitement commenced. We were riding quietly along, when a man who was repairing a fence hailed us. We rode up to him. “Are you going to the Flat?” he asked. “We are,” replied Saunders. “The best thing you can do,” said the man, “is to remain where you are; the bushrangers are on the road; they have ‘stuck up’ everyone who has travelled it to-day, and are sure to bail you up.” He described the men, how they were dressed, the colour of the horses they were riding, and said that two of them had rifles. “We'll chance it,” said Saunders; “I have a ‘pea-shooter,’ and if they’ll only give me a chance I’ll have a pop at them.” We wished the man “Good day,” and rode on. We had not gone more than half-a-mile from the station, when about a quarter of a mile to our right front, we saw three men on horseback riding in single file and, answering the description of the bushrangers in every particular. They were in the bush riding down a slight rise; we were riding along the road at right angles to them; had we gone on we would have met. As we caught sight of them Saunders said, “Get off your horse,” I did so just a little off the road; he followed suit. “Get your horse between you and them,” said he. He then took out his revolver, and leaned across the saddle watching their movements. I was unarmed, and did not at all relish the position we were in. The men, evidently puzzled as to whom or what we were, kept riding on at a snail’s pace, talking to one another and looking at us. We never moved, but watched. When they got to the road they seemed undecided what they should do; however, they crossed it and rode quietly away, we watching until they were out of sight, when we mounted our horses and cantered away towards the Flat at a pretty good rate, thinking perhaps they would ride round and intercept us. We had ridden about a mile when we met a young man on horseback, who told us that Lambing Flat was deserted; that there had been a great “roll up”; the bankers had fled to Yass with their treasure; the military had been telegraphed for, and had started from Sydney; that the courthouse had been burned down by the mob, and that the town was in a complete state of uproar. We were inclined to disbelieve all this, but found when we got to the Flat that it was too true. We told the young fellow about the three men we had seen, who said
