Summary

E. B. Kennedy Blacks and Bushrangers: Adventures in Queensland

On seeing the chief fall to rise no more, the friendlies gave a loud shout, whilst the enemy yelled with rage, and the fight waxed fiercer than ever.
Mat was well aware that there was a concerted effort to kill him at any price. Yet for the moment, having seen the power of his arm, and never having thought that the white men could fight them with their own weapons, the enemy held aloof, until, amidst loud Tingura cries, another warrior advanced upon him. At the same moment, in an effort to defend himself from a side blow, Mat’s club was dashed from him.
Source: Gutenberg

E. B. Kennedy Blacks and Bushrangers: Adventures in Queensland

It seemed hours to him before he had come round to the edge of the sandy plain to the rear of Magan. Once there, he wormed his way in the required direction with eyes fixed on the robber, and grasping his gun ready for any emergency.
Every time that the man was not looking at his food—each time that he looked up or about him—Mat was as a stone, and, in truth, his body being the exact colour of the ruddy sand on which he lay, it would have taken something sharper than a white man’s eye to detect him.
Source: Gutenberg

E. B. Kennedy Blacks and Bushrangers: Adventures in Queensland

Mat appeared ready to faint, so, without more ado, Tim and his friends dragged him from the saddle, bore him away on their shoulders out of the yard, and deposited him on a mattress, which had been placed under a shady tree by Terebare’s forethought.
Burns, during the time that this “man-horse” struggle had lasted, had been in a perfect ecstasy of delight, hopping round the crowd with a bottle of his favourite “three star” in his hand, out of which he constantly “pledged our hero,” or proffered it to the bystanders for the same purpose.
Source: Gutenberg

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