‘Show it to me,’ said the stranger; ‘I love a real good weapon;’ and without the slightest hesitation, my brother handed him the revolver, which he examined carefully, and saw that the chambers were loaded. He remarked that it was the ‘prettiest weapon’ he had handled for a long time. He walked a few steps in advance, and turning round suddenly, he presented the revolver at my brother’s head, calling out in a commanding tone, ‘Stand!’ his countenance so changed as scarcely to be recognised. At last my brother felt that he stood face to face with the terrible bushranger, but did not lose his presence of mind. For a moment there was a profound silence, first broken by the stranger saying: ‘Is there anything on earth to prevent my blowing out your brains with your own weapon, placed in my hands of your own free-will? The wild bush round us, I know its every twist and turn. The man is not living who could track my footsteps through its depths, where I alone am lord and master. Speak, man! What is there to prevent me?’ With a throbbing heart and a quickened pulse my brother answered: ‘Nothing but your sense of honour.’ The man’s face brightened, and his voice resumed its friendly tone, and handing back the revolver, he said; ‘We stand now on equal footing. You hold my life in your hands, as I held yours a moment ago. Yes, boy; and your own fortune too. But I trust you, as you trusted me. I would not hurt a hair of your head, and I have spared others for your sake. How, you will never know; but they owe you a deep debt of gratitude. You are a noble-hearted fellow; and through the rest of my stormy life, I will look back with pleasure on the time we have passed together. But, mate, you are the greatest fool I ever met. I brought you here to-day to give you a lesson, which I hope you will bear in mind. You are going amongst a rough, lawless crew; never, as long as you live, trust any man as you have trusted me to-day. Where you are bound for, your revolver will be your only true friend; never let it out of your own keeping, to friend or foe. You are far too trusting. There was not a man but yourself amongst those from whom I have just parted who did not believe from the moment I joined that I was Jack the bushranger. Well, mate, I am not going to tell you who or what I am, or how or why I came amongst you; but of this rest assured, that you have no truer friend. You will never know what I have done for your sake.—Now, mate, good-bye for ever. We will never meet again in this world, and it is best for you it should be so.’ Then leading him back to the track by which he could rejoin his party, he wrung my brother’s hand, turned and walked quickly into the bush, leaving no doubt upon my brother’s mind that the friend he had so loved and trusted was indeed the dreaded bushranger. They never did meet again. My brother came home to die; and unless my memory deceives me, Jack was shot dead in a skirmish with the military.