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GIPPSLAND'S FIRST COLD.

HOW IT WAS WON.

How the first gold was got in Gippsland is related in the following interesting narrative by Mr John T. Reid, one of the pioneer miners in Victoria. Mr Reid, who resides in East Brunswick, is now 77 years of age, and came to the country from California in 1851. In the course of a recent interview with the director of geological survey (Mr E. J. Dann), this veteran recounted in a racy manner some of his experiences in gold mining in Eastern Gippsland, etc., in 1853 and onwards. Mr Reid said:" In 1853 I worked at Reed's Creek with John Strickland. Bob Bow, Ash Kaine and Allan Kaine, Brandy Jack, and the rest.

Altogether there were eight members of the party. It was at the time when the man was shot in a paddock through the accidental discharge of a police-man's musket. We had a claim above the old crossing, and the claims were twelve feet square, with a wall if two feet around which was allured. The depth of the ground was about twelve feet, and the wash dirt about one foot thick, of soft granite bottom. From the wash-dirt of this claim. we obtained about 50lb weight of gold. The whole claim was worked out in about a week.

The water was baled out by buckets. There were 400 to 500 people about there. We obtained about 3 10, per ounce for gold. Shovels cost 1 each and picks the same. Flour was 20 per 200lb bag. Tea was 10s per Ib. matches 1s per box, and tobacco 10s per lb. We stayed for five or six weeks together, but could not get another good claim. I left my mates and went to Spring Creek, and was digging at the foot of Red Hill, and commenced sluicing there. We employed eight men and paid them 1 per day. We made from 30 to 40 per man per week by working the old and the new ground together. Just below Tidymans, near the Great Britain store kept by Hempel, in the blue wash very good results were got, as much as 2 to 31b weight of gold per load. At Roper's Hill, hear the Chinese camp, the sinking was forty feet deep, and very rich returns were got. As much as 30 to 40 oz were washed out in a morning by Eccles and party. This would be for about a couple of, loads washed it. Iong-toms. " Madman's Gully was shallow, from 4 feet to 10 feet deep, and claims 12 feet square From such claims 12 to 20 oz were obtained. We all remained at Red Hill for about three months and then bought horses and started on a prospecting trip, and in about four or five weeks reached Omeo, and camped on the swamp on Livingstone Creek, as now known.

We went out on the plains. There were eight in the party-Miller. Dean, Love, Beefy and Little Beefy, Jimmy Bloomfield, Piko, and myself-and we saw a bullock and killed him, not knowing there was any settlement near. While killing the bullock Tom Shean and Joe Davey rode up and informed us that we were at Omeo. This was in 1853. They would not take payment for the beef, but helped us skin the beast and told us to make for their hut and stockyard up the Morass Creek. We were camped on the Morass Creek for about five or six weeks, and prospected around and obtained a little gold, but not payable. We then went down and put down a paddock in the swamp by means of a sapling lined shaft, got a little gold, but could not master the
water. We went further up Livingstons Creek and started prospecting just below the present township. The sinking was about 12 to 14 feet, and we obtained about 40 oz of gold per day on an average. Part of the men were always procuring provisions. We used to go to Port Albert for provisions such as flour, etc., which was brought by small vessels from Tasmania.

We built a log cabin and put up a water wheel and cut a tail race, and we stayed here for about twelve months. Three months after finding gold we went to Yackaundadah to get provisions, tools, and outfit. On our return 20 to 30 miners came back with us, and later on quite a rush set in, and from 200 to 300 men were at work there before we left for Monaro. Gold brought 3 12s per ounce. At first the Omen gold was sold in Beechworth for 4 an ounce, but the storekeepers who got this price had to refund. On one trip coming back from Port Albert we escaped Tongio Hill by coming up Swift's Creek and had a black fellow as a guide. Blacks were very numerous at Omen then. We prospected this creek later on. There were three of us and we set in near the present Omeo township. The sinking was about 14 feet deep and the wash dirt from four to five feet deep. We made about three to four ounces of gold per man per week. Then a rush set in from Omeo. This was the first gold got in Gippsland."

Bairnsdale Advertiser and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle
(Vic. : 1882 - 1918) Sat 25 Jul 1908
https://trove.nla.gov.au/

1627961351_1755-9381-570f-9b96-cd76bf0d7c37.jpg


https://collections.slsa.sa.gov.au/resource/B+39276
 
GOLD FEVER.

A "Catching" Disease.

By E. Waller.

Gold fever may seem unreasonable to the unaffiliated, but to those who have it, it is as obstinate as malaria. Gold alone is not the cause of the disease;
the free and easy life associated with the search for it also accounts for many of the symptoms.

An old miner's slogan was:
My hat's my house,
My home's the world
My mate-that mongrel by the campfire curled.

"A pick, a pan, a dog, and a miner's right are all that make a prospector," said another. The prospector Is anything but a laggard, for the gold fever constantly urges him on. He usually starts the day before sun-up and finishes at sundown, when he sets about making the principal meal of the day. Breakfast usually consists of a rasher of bacon and an egg, with bush toast and strong tea. Dinner is just an excuse for a break and a smoke after a snack, so it is not until his day's work is done that he really eats. Some prospectors won't try anything but the dish; others favor cradling or sluicing, or "blowing" to get their riches; but whether a man be after alluvial or reef, gold fever is no respecter of persons. They all get it. And why not? To see a few yellow specks in the dish, or a long "tail" of gold that stretches around the dish is enough to Infect the immune.
It matters not how you work, the result is the same. That is. the feeling of independence that surges through you at the sight of this yellow metal. Perhaps your day's work results in a grain, or a "weight"-or an ounce! An ounce! Worth over nine pounds for the day! You then become a hopeless case unless you are of rare fiber.
The lure of gold is strong. Gold is where you find it and where you find it there it is. An old axiom runs: If you think. it's gold, it isnt; but if you know its gold it is.

The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 - 1954)
https://trove.nla.gov.au/
 
Lost Gold Mines.

(By Bill Bowyang.)

I wonder how many prospectors there are at the present time wandering about Australia looking for gold and lost mines?

To me they seem strange things, these lost mines of precious metal as they are hard to find. The reason why some of them cannot be found is because the discoverer died suddenly without revealing the where about's of the golden hole to anyone, or leaving any direction notes. On more than one occasion, in vanished years, a man has ridden into a town ship with a canvas sack stuffed full of nuggets and announced to the inhabitants that he had found a gold mine somewhere out in the Never Never. He would remain in town for a few weeks, spending his cash recklessly until his pocket was as empty as a dead marine. Then he would drift off again for more of the precocious metal, but never return. Perhaps his shriveled body or his bones would be found bleaching in the sun years afterwards, but that's all. Result, another lost mine. I met an old chap the other day who can remember an incident that happened about forty years ago, and this is what he told me: 'When I was about 20 years of age I was residing In Herberton. One day a packhorse was discovered on the outskirts of the town without an owner, but carrying a saddle bag stuffed with small nuggets of gold. Years afterwards the skeleton of a man was found in the bed of a dry gully not far from this town. Beside the body was found a small canvas sack containing several nuggets. I cannot say if he was the owner of the packhorse, but anyhow, if he wasn't there is a possibility of a couple of lost mines in me above locality. About a week after the discovery of this gruesome sight I made a long search for the yellow stuff far out from the township. However, my luck was out in as I lost my horse, then got bushed myself in trying to find it. I wandered about for a number of days and nights trying to find some landmark until I was finally on my last legs and about as helpless as a lassooed blowfly when a man found me.' More than likely some of these lost mines have been found and worked long after the original finder had passed out of existence.
However, there is a lost mine at Dayboro, near Brisbane, and in the vicinity of a place called Scrubby Knob. So far as I know it has never been found. On two or three occasions I have been informed that a prospector used to get gold somewhere at this place, but one day be went out and the Grim Reaper stepped in, preventing his return. Later his body was found, and with it there was over 100 worth of gold. That was about thirty years back, and I am told a certain man is still searching for it It is little more than thirty years back since a young man, while searching for rubies in the Macdonald Ranges, in Central Australia, lost himself. While bushed in that dead heart of Australia he came across a rich gold reef that will probably be famous throughout Australia In days to come. It Is almost certain that this prospector would have perished in those arid regions had sot an Afghan camel driver found him when almost on the point of death through lack of water. Nursed back to health, It took this prospector about three years to face these unexplored regions again, then he and a mate dashed forth into the brooding desert, again found the reef and returned with the remnant of an outfit As the reef is situated far out. from any settlement it was impossible for the discoverer to work it, so in 1916 he managed to Interest the West Australian Government who sent out two expeditions to locate it and explore the reef. However, casualties and hostile natives, both parties were forced to return. It takes a lot to beat some fellows as It was only last year that this seeker of the yellow metal caused another company to be floated to locate the reef. It took a good deal of cash to float this company, which consisted of a number of men, a six-wheeler motor vehicle, provisions for many months, and an aeroplane. But bad luck dogged their path. The 'plane struck a tree and came crashing to the ground, injuring the pilot, who was taken to a hospital about 300 miles back. Then the truck party were placed under a hoodoo by the aborigines on account of a stolen 'Sandhills god,' and they reckoned It was unsafe to go any further. However, the discoverer would not turn back, but procured camels and proceeded on alone. He found his reef, pegged it, secured some specimens, and started on the return journey. However, it was never completed as he lost his camels, and was left In the desert with a wild native tribe. Many months later a bushman, with his 'ships of the desert,' found the prospector's body under a canopy of dried branches. But despite tragedy the lure of gold still draws them on, and now a well organized and equipped expedition is searching for this lost reef, and they are led by the man who found the discoverer's body. The writer, along with many others, is now waiting With great interest for the good tidings that will probably be the out come of this expedition.

Narromine News and Trangie Advocate (NSW : 1898 - 1955) Fri 20 Nov 1931 Page 2

https://trove.nla.gov.au/

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http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/303546
 
THE OLD GOLD FIELDS. TAMBAROORA.

TAKE ME BACK TO TAMBAROORA

By WILL CARTER.

(Copyright.)

Take me back to Tambaroora,
and the roaring, reckless days,
With the diggers, wheeling barrows,
Or with swags in bumping drays.
Take me back to Tambaroora
With a cradle or a tub.
Or a "banjo" at a pothole,
And a fortune in the scrub.
Tambaroora that could lure a, -.
Thousands diggers in a day;
Take me back, although the glory .
And the gold have passed away.
Still the wattles bloom in splendor,
Still the magpies, wild and free,
Warble down in Golden Gully.
Of the days that used to be.
Ravaged banks and ruin greet us,
Stump and rock, and vine and tree.
But a cradle, tub or "banjo,"
Seldom now the eye may see.
Lone winds whisper in the gullies,
Gone arc church, and pub and store;
Silence reigns where once ten thousand
Miners toiled in days of yore.

TAMBAROORA.

Tambaroora! The very name is a challenge and a revelation. A challenge to re-explore its wilds, note its beginning, and trace its development; a revelation of wealth, yielded by obscure gullies and flats, in the roaring fifties and golden sixties, when Australia was calling persuasively across the whole world to the people of all nations to come and share in her lavish metalliferous wealth; when each newly discovered field proved another irresistible magnet, with the result that, in a surprisingly short span of years, the population increased amazingly, responsive to the urge of the spirit of adventure, and the desire to acquire speedy wealth.

DISCOVERY OF THE FIELD.

Ophir, at Lewis Ponds and Summerhill Creek, marks the historic spot where Hargreaves made the first official discovery of gold in February of 1851. A few thousands of fortune
hunters were quickly on the scene, but not all struck payable gold, and so they made across into the Turon River valley which had been roughly prospected by Hargreaves, Lister and Tom. It was in this way that Sofala was opened up in May, or June, 1851.
Tambaroora was nearer to the scene of the first rush than Sofala, and it is feasible to assume that it was discovered a trifle earlier, although it is merely conjectural, as the original man, or men, who made the lucky strike would keep the matter quiet as long as possible in order to delay the inevitable rush.

THE DEVIL'S HOLE.

It was the definite opinion of the late Mr. Thomas Cox, father of James Edward Cox, who was born at Tambaroora in 1855, that gold was being got at Devil's Hole, at the foot of Bogey Mountain, two miles from Windeyer, and now known as Clark's Creek, before the rush to Tambaroora took place, it was some man, or party of men, who had failed to get good gold at Devil's Hole that went down to Tambaroora Creek, and made the discovery of rich alluvial gold which led to the rush there, probably in April or May, 1851.

IMPATIENT DIGGERS.

It was characteristic of men to like the best, long before the very first gold rush occurred In the world. As soon as news filtered through of a new strike, there would be a feverish
rush to the spot, and, like boys eager to secure the biggest and best mush rooms after Easter rain, they would rush round greedily in search of bigger nuggets, always believing that richer gold was just over their shoulder. It was thus that many prospectors left good shows half developed for new chums to reap the advantage a few days later. Nevertheless it was the dissatisfied and roving spirit in men that led to all fresh discoveries; it was thus that Tambaroora was located without doubt.

THE SITE OF THE OLD FIELD.

Let us get right back to 1850 and take a turn round the site of the old field before men had reaped the gullies and flats of their treasure, and scarred the landscape for miles. Tambaroora Creek was then what it has ever been, merely a stretch of pot holes, capable, in time of good rainfalls, to flow along into Macquarie River. Looking over the rugged scene we find the country timbered with numerous hardwoods, but no ironbark. Golden Gully, which marks the bed of the creek, is bright with wattle bloom. To the south, Bald Hill confronts us four or five hundred feel above, in the vicinity of the Hill End to be. nearly a score of years later, with the famous Hawkins' Hill not far away, waiting to astonish the world with the richness of its golden mica veins in the early seventies. To the north the country ripples in ridges and gully right away to Louisa Creek, another famous diggings, known later as Hargreaves. Golden Gully trends north at first. then west, and finally its stream, Tambaroora Creek, turns south-west (when it flows), and enters the Macquarie River. The spot is about fifty-six miles from Bathurst but, so far, there is no human traffic to entitle it to roads, and when occasionally a lone bushman penetrates the
wild bush, it is by means of some faint, bush bridle track.

A BANJO AT A POTHOLE.

Present day readers will probably fail to appreciate the significance of the expression: "A banjo at a pothole." Many will think that it is associated with a strolling busker serenading some golden goddess with a banjo at a waterhole. Where gold was, and water was not, or at least, in very limited quantities, the early diggers bad to devise means of testing ground on strictly economical lines in so far as the water was concerned and so the dish, the banjo, the cradle and the tub came into operation. Ground-sluicing and boxing required a running current, whereas the others did not. The banjo was made of timber, shaped something like a banjo, with a receptacle head, and a runaway neck, or spout, which was placed so that the water would flow down into the pot hole again after it had been thrown on to the wash-dirt in the box, or belly above.
After filling the banjo the digger spread his legs a bit and continued dashing water on the dirt, which gradually became reduced, as in the case of dishing, the gold sinking to the bottom, and the sand, or "tailings." running down the inclined neck into the hole with the discoloured water. It was quicker work than dishing and less back-breaking, but the rocking cradle and tub were much better, and were chiefly employed on the field.

Camperdown Chronicle (Vic. : 1877 - 1954) Thu 2 Dec 1937 Page 3

https://trove.nla.gov.au/

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https://nqheritage.jcu.edu.au/105/
 
A STRIPE FOR TROOPER CASEY.

THE magpies had said good-night to the setting sun, and
already darkness was moving through the dead timber.
The first notes of night-birds came from the ridges, and a
curlew mourned in the reeds of a creek.

My brother Will shook his reins and rode away.

" Good-bye, Sis," he said ; " I will be home pretty early."

I smiled, knowing that he reckoned without his host. Will
was visiting Lizzie Lacy, and Lizzie had a sweet face. Love's pretty
trickeries upset many promises, and I knew that my brother would
not return till the small hours. But what was love to me a simple
country girl with a heart to lose and nobody to find it ?

The cold chilled my fingers, and I shuddered. I was alone,
with no one to talk to. Mother and father had gone to Bathurst
that day, and evil men walked the roads, lured west by the gleam
of gold. As Will disappeared in the distance, fear struck through
me like a chill wave. There was a dance at Staunton's, and Mary had
invited me. I was sorry now that I had refused her. Still, if Mary's
heart had been as perfect as her face, she would not have said hard
things of poor me. She should have schooled her tongue, although she
might be a fine woman which was trooper Casey's estimate of her.
The little successes that please a woman had spoilt her, gilding her
pride till it dazzled one painfully. If I had grey eyes, it was God
who had coloured them ; and someone has since told me that it is the
pleasantest colour of all. She had said, as well, that my cheeks were
red country complexion. I blessed God for that also, because it
meant health and strength. They could be pale enough at times
but pale only when hers would have been ashen.

I remembered myself and laughed. All this bitterness because
Will was visiting Lizzie Lacy, and no one was coming to kiss my
hand ! Silly Carrie, I said to myself, you must bide your time-
You are over-young yet to harbour these thoughts. Time will
surely bring you the rose, and as surely the thorn that wounds.

I had turned to enter the house when Sally whinnied from a
distance, and came down the green lane between the cultivation-
paddocks at a high trot, her silver tail lifted in excitement and
streaming out behind her. She halted at the slip-rails and stretched
her head over them, coyly inviting a caress. I gave her a cake,
smoothed her velvet nose, and talked to her till the trees in the
distance were very dim. Now, while I fondled, I noticed a curious
inattentiveness in the mare's manner. She seemed to heed me with
one ear only. The other continually flickered back and quivered as
though distracted by a distant sound. Listen intently as I might,
I could discover nothing. Peer as I would, I saw dead trees and
naught else. But this listening and peering made me fretful and
afraid ; and, with a final pull at Sally's forelock a lingering pull
that told how loath I was to leave her I turned and entered the
house.

The fire burned steadily. All the little sticks that splash and
splutter and noise so much were in white heaps, and only two great
logs of ironbark glowed sullenly. I lit a lamp, sat down, and gazed
into the fire : sweet pastime for pensive moments. At a girl's age"
of-dreams, questions come in troops, and a log's red side is often rich
with fancy-food. My head pillowed on an arm, I looked sideways
down. The fire drowsed my eyes, and in a little while sleep shut
them wholly. Remember, at that period Crime went down the
roads in many guises !

I awoke with a start and looked towards the door. Two men
stood in the room a tall and a short man. They were dressed in
sailor clothes, and the eyes of one squinted horribly.

Who are you ? " I said, rising to my feet and feeling strangely
nervous.

Weary men, lassie," said the tall man.

All the way from Sydney," added the other.

With not a bite for two blessed days," continued the first.

And ne'er a sup," said the second.

" Indeed," I remarked, pretending sympathy with their lie ;
that is hard. But I will give you full and plenty, and when you
are satisfied you must go for," I continued, thinking to soften the
words, "we do not allow any strangers to sleep here."

" Yes," said the tall man ; " feed us well, good lassie."

"And," added the other, " being satisfied, we'll leave you all alone

Then they both chuckled, and moved to the table.

As i laid cold meat and cream and bush honey before them, a
nervousness assailed me that made my hands dance.

"All alone, lassie?" said the tall man at last, throwing himself
back in his chair.

"Yes," I replied, but recognising my mistake instantly
continued : " That is, for a little while. I expect my brother every
instant he is with trooper Casey."

The short man lit his pipe, the tall one following suit. " Time
to be gone, then," remarked the latter.

The other drew the stem from his lips and expelled a long
white plume. " Which first ? " he said.

" The gilt," said the tall man.

I heard the words, and suddenly sprang up and ran for the
door. " Money first," I thought ; " what second ?"

" Ah, would you ! " said the short man, leaping in front.

" Let me pass ! " I cried ; " someone is coming."

He did not move, but stood with folded arms, smiling coarsely.

" A sweetheart, perhaps, lassie ?

My brother," I answered.

The tall man opened the door, put out his head, and listened.
A moment after he drew in and shut the door.

" No one," he said ; " the lassie's mistaken."

" Come! " said the short man, extending his arms.

I retreated as he advanced, till at length I stood by the fire. I
was all flushed with rage, and cold with fear.

" My brother is a big man," I said ; " he could kill you both
with one blow."

They laughed brutally, and the short man said, "He has a
pretty sister."

"If you are men you will not harm me. Tell me what you
want, and I will give it you."

''Take her at her word," interrupted the tall man, coming
forward.

" I will," replied the other. " What will you give us ? "

" What do you want ? " I asked, brightening.

" One thing and another, lassie," said he.

" Tobacco," suggested his companion ; " tea and sugar and
flour.

"A word in your ear, lassie!" interrupted the short man,,
touching me with an outstretched hand.

But I drew away, and tried to look down from my little height.

" Go out of the door, sir ! this is my father's house ! "

" Pert words from pretty lips," said the short man. " A kiss!
a kiss ! "

With that he had me in his arms, and drew me in close. I
struggled, at first in silence, but at the touch of his bearded face
threw back my head and filled the house with cries. He did not
desist only grew fiercer ; nor did his fellow make any motion to
release me. His grasp was like that of a vice, and blue marks remained
long after. Once in the struggle I saw stars, and thought a wicked
dream had passed. A gust of cold wind struck my cheeks, and I
strove to free myself. Then the wind blew again, and again I saw
stars the door was open and someone stood in the doorway. It
was a man tall as a giant, I thought, and the curse he thundered
seemed like a great song.

The sailor released me and drew apart, laughing to lighten his
guilt.

" God bless you ! " I said, moving to the door both hands on
my heart, for it was panting fiercely.

Before I reached him the stranger raised a hand to make me
pause. He had a gun at his shoulder, a long, bright barrel that
gleamed fitfully.

" In the nick of time," he said calmly ; " which first ? "

I looked at the two sailors. They stood close together,
distressed by fear. The tall man slanted sideways, like a sapling
from the wind, and the short one cowered behind an upraised arm
as if to ward a blow.

" Which first? " said the stranger again.

" Neither! " I replied, shuddering.

He sloped his rifle a little, looked at me cynically, and hinted
something that filled me with shame.

" No, no," I cried ; " do not say that ! I never saw them before,
and I am a good girl."

A smile crept across his lips, and his wide, dark eyes softened.

" I believe it," he said shortly.

He stepped forward and halted in the centre of the room.
You were hungry ? " he said to the short man.

The man nodded.

" And she fed you on cream and honey the best she had ? "

The man did not answer.

The gun went to the shoulder again, and the dark eyes looked
along the levelled barrel.

" And you wanted to pay her in your own foul coin. Now for
this," he continued, " I've a mind to put hot lead in your brain."

I ran forward with a great dread lest he should do as he
threatened.

" Go away ! " I cried to the sailors ; " go quickly, while you are
safe ! "

The men turned as if to slink off but the stranger warned them
to stand very still.

"You must be punished for this night's work," he said; " and
then you may go both of you as far as Berrima."

The two men started and eyed him keenly.

"Just so, just so," he said, nodding from one to the other ; " a
guilty conscience, eh! "

They scowled and sank their eyes, and he turned to me.

" Get your whip ! " he said.

I stood irresolute, and he continued :

" My arm is tired holding this gun. They should have been
dead long ago. Get your whip ! "

I ran away, got my whip, and returned.

" Go forward and strike that man across the face."

"It would be cruel," I replied.

" Quick ! or he will be dead before you reach him ! "

Then I was in front of the sailor.

" Lift your arm," the stranger said.

Then he told me to strike with all my force " As you would a
wicked steer."

I obeyed with some hesitation, and struck lightly. But
presently faint-heartedness forsook me. At the second lifting of
the whip a sudden spirit of mastery surged my arm with fierceness,
so that I dealt some savage blows. The sailor sheltered his eyes
with his hands and cried aloud for mercy. Then I suddenly
remembered myself and drew away, shuddering and half in tears.

"Good!" said the stranger. "And now for the other they
are mates."

" He did not offer me any hurt," I replied.

The stranger looked at him. " You are lucky," he said.

The man's face lightened with pleasure.

" But less lucky than you think, my good man," he continued.

I noticed the white fear that came into the tall man's face, and
the sudden upward look of his companion.

" Come here ! " said the stranger, beckoning to the short man.

The sailor approached, trembling. After a few paces had been
taken, " Halt ! " the stranger cried.

The man stood still on the instant.

" Squint-eyed, and with the limp of the leg-iron dressed like a
sailor ! " said the stranger, in loud, clear tones. " Get some saddle
straps, my girl ! "

"Why?"

" Get them ! " he said, shortly.

I went away, and displeasure at his brusque manner made my
cheeks burn. Did it paint them also that he spoke so gently on
my return ?

"I am not used to ladies, and I mean no offence," he said.

I forgave him, and said that I had felt none. " Your action
to-night shows that you are a good man."

" Perhaps," he replied ; " but one star does not make a heaven."

He was silent, and I forebore to ask what he meant. He
motioned for the straps, and I gave them.

Then he turned to the men, and his voice hardened.

" Down on your faces ! " he thundered, " quick ! quick ! both of
you, or "

They were down on the instant, abject as worms.

"Now take this gun, my girl," he said, "and if that man so
much as wriggles, shoot him. I will manage the other."

The man was fashioned to command. I took the gun, and if
the prostrate figure had moved then it would never have moved
again. But the sailors were utterly cowed, and did not murmur
while the stranger pinioned their hands behind them. This done,
he rolled them over and looked down at them.

" What does this mean ? " I said.

*' A stripe for trooper Casey," he replied, and laughed.

" For trooper Casey I do not understand ? "

" You will, in time," he replied.

With that, I had to content myself. Who this man was, with
the command on his lips, and the disobey-me-if-you-dare in his eyes,
I did not know. I only know that he had reserves of gentleness,
which spoke through his harsher moods like a bird's song in a
storm.

" You, there ! " he said to the short man ; " do you know what
they are doing at Weatherley's ? "

The sailor turned his face aside, and was mute.

" Or you ? " to the tall man.

" No," the man replied. " Where is Weatherley's 1 "

" Liars both of you ! " said the stranger. " Weatherley's,
under the Range."

" What are they doing ? " I interposed.

" Burying a dead woman, he replied, looking from one to the
other of the prostrate men, and nodding as he changed his gaze.

" How sad ! " I cried. " Poor Mrs. Weatherley ! When did
she die ? "

"Yesterday."

" She was a strong woman."

" She met someone stronger."

" You mean Death ! "

" Death, and two devils ! " he ground his teeth.

I looked at him in wonder.

" Two devils what do you mean ? "

The short man lay on his side, looking up as a beaten dog looks
at his master. The stranger spurned him with a foot.

" Answer ! " he said ; " which of you killed her ? "

" Not me," groaned the sailor ; " 't was the bushrangers."

" You liar ! " cried the stranger in a rising, incredulous voice,

as though he doubted his own ears. " We do not " He paused

and looked at me, and saw that he had revealed himself.

" Ah ! " I whispered as he turned away. I understood now,
and yet he did not seem as black as people painted him.

" I tried to hide it," he said ; " but it slipped out. It is a bad
thing even at its best."

Then he looked very downcast, and I pitied him. An angel
impulse stirred me, and I stepped forward, raised my face, and
kissed him.

" Good ! " he said, his fine eyes flashing, " 'tis a long time
since "

He lowered his voice and continued, as if to himself : " But
what does it matter ? She is only a child."

" To-night has made me a woman," I replied.

" No, no ! you are a child. No woman would do a thing like
that. But some day you will be a woman. Then you will kiss with
the lips only, not with the heart cheating the heart that
loves you."

It was some minutes before he spoke again.

" I saw a horse in the stockyard," he said ; " bring him round.
I want you to go somewhere."

And when Sally was ready at the door and I in the saddle, he
continued : " Ride to Staunton's Casey is there. Tell him " this
with a low laugh "that the man who borrowed his horse at
Weatherboard waits here to give him a stripe in exchange. Come
back with him yourself."

I turned Sally's head to be gone immediately.

" Wait another word ! Would you like to see me dead or
trooper Casey dead ? "

" Oh, no ; how can you ask ? "

" I distrust women," he returned, " since I met Judas in
petticoats."

" Try me," I replied ; "I could not be false after what you
have done."

" When you come to the bridge, cooee ! I will be here watching
these brutes, and when I hear your cry I will up and away."

As Sally moved off some words followed from the door, where
he stood in the light.

" Good-bye, little girl ! "

" Good-bye ! and I will always remember you."

A curlew wailed, and the stranger laughed to make the
parting easy, it seemed. Yet something that Nature had put into
the curlew's wail went through the man's voice and saddened me
for many days. It seemed that both bird and man mourned some-
thing lost.

I galloped along the track that made a siding in the green hill
and slanted to the creek. Sally's hoofs rattled on the turpentine
planking of the bridge, and presently struck fire from the ironstone
on the farther side. Where the track wound through wild hops
I gave her free head; for there was open country. Where the
scrub crept in she slackened of her own will, not liking the rebound
of the bushes. In a little while we came to a second creek, where
bullocks' heads in a white line made stepping-stones. She crossed it
with a bound and a splash, and climbed the slope beyond in a few
strides. Another mile brought me to Staunton's log-fence, and
through the trees I saw bright windows. A little later there
came to me a concertina's music and other sounds of merry-
making.

I fastened Sally to the stockyard gate, and walked through the
doorway. A number of couples were there, swinging round and
round in a dance. As I walked into the room I felt strangely out
of harmony with the surroundings, the music having put a spirit
in my feet that made them seem to drag.

Mary Staunton had trooper Casey for a partner. She looked
very fine and pale, but as she went by she scarcely deigned to notice
me. Trooper Casey was six feet high, and had curly hair the hair
that women fancy. Every time he wheeled his metal buttons
flashed. When the dance finished he was near me. I touched him
on the arm.

" Mr. Casey ! "

" Hallo, Carrie ! " said Mary Staunton, in affected welcome ;
" how late you are ! "

" I didn't come to dance, Mary only to see Mr. Casey."

"Ah, I should have known," she answered, with a little
mocking laugh, and with a glance at my dress where Sally had
splashed it in crossing the creek.

I tossed my head and turned from her.

" Trooper Casey, can you spare a moment ? "

What do you want ? Say what you want, here and now,"
said Mary Staunton. " That is, if you 're not afraid of us
hearing it."

"I intended this for you alone" I addressed the trooper
"but now" with a sidelong look at his sweetheart "everyone
may hear it."

" What is it. Miss Anson ?"

" Do you want a stripe ? "

" Why, one 'd think you were the Governor's lady," said Mary
Staunton, laughing so that I blushed.

I took no notice of her, other than turning my back, and then
I smiled quietly as I spoke.

" A gentleman waits at our house to pay you for a horse he
borrowed at Weatherboard."

I watched him keenly to see how he took the news. On his
cheeks two red spots stood out and burned. He gnawed his under-
lip, and there was a suppressed anger in his eyes, that glowed like
covered tires. From those standing around there went up a great
laugh, and Casey turned to a group who forced their merriment
overlong.

' You are great laughers," said he; "but are you men enough
to fight?"

None of them made a movement to accept the challenge ; but,
on the other hand, it was curious to see how speedily the laughter
faded from their faces, giving place to something almost sad.

Then up spoke Mary Staunton.

" Carrie Anson," said she, with tremulous white lips, " if you
come here to insult people, you'd better stay away."

" Don't mind her, Mary," said the trooper ; " it 's a trick some
fool has made her play."

"Indeed it is not," I replied. "The man who gave me that
message is waiting at our house with two sailors, and one of them "
I dropped my voice so that only he and Mary heard " killed
Mrs. Weatherly."

The trooper started, as though shot through ; looked me in the
yes, and drew a long breath. " By God ! " he cried, and moved
towards the door.

"It is three to one, Mary," he said.

" Do not go ! " she answered ; " you may be killed."

" It is man to man, trooper! " I interrupted; "two are bound
and the third keeps watch."

"Stuff!" exclaimed Mary, viciously: "he keep watch! You
will not go alone, trooper."

"Alone! I must take the man. Where are my carbine
and cap ? "

" Take someone ! " pleaded Mary.

"No," Casey replied, "I will do this myself. If I succeed you
know what it means," and he looked earnestly into her eyes.

I laughed pleasantly.

" I shall be a bridesmaid eh, Mary 1 "

She did not smile, but went off with a set face, swaying her
skirts behind her.

"With the help of God, Miss Anson," whispered Casey,
confidentially, "I shall make three prisoners to-night."

" With the help of God, you shall not, trooper Casey ! " I
whispered to myself.

As the trooper turned to leave the room, his carbine on his
back, his sabre at his side, and his cap pressing a cushion of brown
curls, I did not wonder Mary Staunton had lost her heart to him.
He was a man to delight any eyes.

Some came forward and offered to assist him, but these he
refused coldly. I passed out and was in the saddle before he had
mounted.

Then he said, in surprise, "You must stay here, Miss Anson."

" I must go home, trooper Casey."

" There may be bloodshed."

"There must be none."

" You are very brave," he said, suspiciously ; "are you sure it
is no hoax ? "

" Follow me, if you are not a coward ! " I replied.

As I passed her, Mary Staunton muttered something about
"an interfering minx." The trooper she warned to be careful. In
my heart I believe that she thought his chief peril lay in me, and I
laughed to think that, after all, an outlaw may not be the greatest
danger in a man's path.

As the trooper rode after, his bridle jingled in the silence.

" Miss Anson," said he, "these sailors that you spoke of was
one a tall man ? "

"Yes."

" And the other short ? "

"With a squint."

"Just so," and he relapsed into silence.

The track was narrow, with no room for two horses. This
prevented us from riding abreast, and gave me an excuse to keep in
front. Several times Casey urged his horse forward, but I patted
Sally and she kept her place. At the creek he made a bold bid to
front me, but the mare flashed forward and headed him at the
farther side.

" Draw aside, and let me ride in front, Miss Anson."

I answered that I knew the way quite well.

" That may be, but I have a different reason."

I was dumb, having nothing to answer.

"There may be danger ahead," he continued; "and you are
foolish."

I cast about for an answer, and remembered a last week's storm.

"There is danger," I replied; "a fallen tree, and you might
flounder in the branches."

He muttered something under his breath, but I did not catch
the word.

In a little while we reached the fallen tree and rode round it.
Beyond he spoke again.

" You can have no objection now."

"None whatever," I said, "only that a little way along a
swarm of bees have fastened to a limb. You might mistake them
for a wart and brush them with your shoulder. That would not be
pleasant, would it ? " and I laughed to gild the prevarication. But
Casey, seeing no humour in the situation, remained dumb.

Presently I cried out to him to beware of the bees, and he listed
in his saddle.

"Now?" he asked.

" Not yet, trooper ; we are in the bush and I prefer to stay
where I am, because if you rode in front the branches would come
back and sting Sally's eyes."

" Rubbish ! " muttered Casey.

When we were through the bush and among the hops, he
suddenly bade me halt.

" You must play no tricks, Miss Anson ! "

" La ! who is playing them, Mr. Casey 1 "
" The man at your house is a desperado."

" Is he, indeed ? " with all the innocence of the world in my
voice.

"And you are an accomplice.'*

' Dear me, what does that mean, trooper ? '

" It means that you must stay where you are."

" But I must go home."

" Then I shall arrest you."

" Arrest me, and let three grown men go free ! "

"But you make it necessary," he said.

" Trooper, the desperado is a brave man, and would be as likely
to kill you as you would be to kill him."

" Have no fears for me. Miss Anson."

" I have none."

" Then they are for

" The man who saved me ? " and I went away like an arrow.
It was the first time I had come into conflict with the law, and the
situation thrilled me. Casey with a great oath thundered close
behind, calling on me in a low voice to hold up, and muttering
dire consequences. I laughed, bent forward, and bade Sally do
her best. It was necessary, since his horse had better pace and
gained greatly at every stride. Now the animal's nose was at
my saddle, now at Sally's shoulder, and now we raced level to the
bridge.

I rose in the saddle, threw up my face, and sent a long, long
" Coo-ee Coo-ee ! " speeding across the open.

" Hush, you hoyden ! "

I tugged at the reins, throwing Sally back on her haunches,
and again I cooeed.

Then I sat back and listened. The trooper was now a fading
bulk in the dark. The speed of his horse on the siding was terrible,
and his rein and sabre jingled fiercely.

Then, one two three, came the sounds of slip-rails falling. I
sat back in the saddle with a sigh of deep content, and breathed as
I had not for many minutes. Par and farther away I heard another
horse, his hoof-thuds in the dead timber sounding like footfalls in
an empty house.

' You have done good work to-night," said trooper Casey, when
I entered the room a little later ; " fine work for a decent, self-
respecting girl."

I picked up his sleeve where the silver braid circled it.

" This looks lonely, trooper : it would be prettier if there were
two of them, would it not ! "

He smiled in a wintry way, and this gave me heart to say that
the stranger was not so bad, after all.

Casey shook his head.

" Bad enough," he replied.

Will came in shortly after, and these words followed :

" Where did you meet him ? "

" At the boundary gate," Will answered.

" What did he say 1 "

" Looked along his gun and ordered me to hoist my hands."

"And then?"

" Took my horse and watch and left me his animal."

" Never mind," said the trooper quietly, " I have two prisoners.
And he was not so bad, after all eh. Miss Anson ? "

" No, trooper ; especially if it should happen that the horse he
left is the same that he borrowed."

Casey rose to look out at the dawn.

RODERIC QUINN.

Printed and Published by William Macleod. of Botany-street, Waverley,
for The Bulletin Newspaper Company, Limited, at the office of the
Company, 214 George-street North, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia.
December, 1901.
 
CAMP OVEN BREAD.

G. F. Pike, Bandstone, writes :-Good, light, digestible bread can always be made in a camp oven if the dough be baked quickly from the top. It is only necessary to put a little heat under the oven if a good quick fire is kept going on the lid.
This quickly forms a crust, closes the pores, and keeps in the bubbles of gas and steam in the -dough, thus causing it to expand. This is really what makes light bread. Good flaky bread can be made as follows: Roll out the dough, dust the surface with flour, fold and roll again and repeat, the process several times. The greater the number of rollings and dustings the thinner the flakes. It is not the flour that is used so much as the way it is used. The waste of good flour in the Australian bushland would keep a good mill going.

The Queenslander
14 December 1901

BLOWN UP.

. An accident that, resulted in the blowing up of a house and which only _by the greatest- luck did not end fatally occurred last week at Mr. Lambert's place on the Babinda road. It appears that he had put several plugs of dynamite and detonators in a camp oven for safe keeping. During his absence from home some travelers took shelter 'in the house and prior to making a damper put the oven on the fire to heat it. They then went outside to git some wood and shortly afterwards the building was blown into the air.

Cairns Post
August 1912

A RECIPE FOR MAKING YEAST.

"Port Hedland" writes:-In your issue of March 19, I noticed an inquiry re making yeast. The following is a very simple and satisfactory recipe, where only small batches of bread are required and! is especially convenient for men travelling in the bush.
Put two heaped tablespoonful of sugar into a clean whisky or other similar bottle and about a desert spoonful of hops; half fill the botte with cold water and shake well, till all the sugar is dissolved. then fill right up with water, cork and tie down securely.
We find no starter is necessary, but the first bottle is. usually slower in working than subsequent ones, winch are usually fit to use 36 hours after mixing. The content of the bottle strained and with about an equal . volume of warm water makes a loaf to fill a camp oven 12 inch in diameter and 5 inch deep.

Note By Mutual Help Editor.

Yeast ferment germs are practically present everywhere and likely to be present on hops; but I would suggest that a quicker and more certain fermentation will be obtained if a few currants or raisins are added to the bottle. I think that currants are likely to be better than lexias, but not better than table raisins.

Western Mail
May 1925

"Clumper."

Dear "Non-Com."--Reading of gun cooks, shearers and Nor'-West humour, brings back lots of earlier memories of the bike days in the shearing game, when you were told by the older hands that a good eye for windmills was very necessary in case the water bag needed a refill. It also recalls lots of jokes put over by those old-timers and one in particular about Old Tom, better known as dumper, a popular old chap. It was shearing time. Clumper and a native were holding a mob of sheep at a large claypan a good distance from the homestead. The boss wanted the sheep shifted to another claypan, some miles distant. He was too busy to visit Clumper and could not spare anyone else to do so, and Clumper could not read. The boss reckoned he could convey his message by means of a sketch. So he drew a large circle representing the claypan, then added the arrow pointing to the other claypan, represented by an- other circle. The stones and sketch were left at the usual box at the side of the road by the camel driver.
Later Clumper and the native arrived for their stores. The native found the sketch and was giving it the once-over when Clumper said, "Hey, give that here. You can't read the damn thing" After a lot of thinking and looking old Clumper exclaimed, "Do you know what he wants Jacky?" "No," says Jacky. "Me nothing knowem that one." "Well," said Clumper, "he wants our frying pan and camp oven. He can have the frying pan, but he ainta going ter get our camp oven!"

Western Mail
May 1937

A Strange Fodder.

Dear "Non-Com.,"-Travelling down to the farm about 30 years ago, I was camped at one of the old convict wells when, about sundown, a buckboard buggy pulled in with an old man driving. He had a glorious bald head and was driving a mare with a foal running alongside. It was dark when he had fixed up his camp, about 200 yards from me. At daybreak I was awakened by the foal careering round. I could see the shiny bald head sticking out from the rugs, and the foal tore round and round the old chap for some time, evidently trying to wake him up. I saw the foal prop and turn its heels round to the old chap's head. Suddenly it let out both heels and caught the bald head fair and square. There was a roar from him and sticks. and stones flew like rain, until he had given vent to his annoyance. He had his break- fast and then strolled over to my camp.
During our conversation, I noticed his mare eating something from a camp oven I said to the old chap, "Your mare is into your tucker." He looked around and said, "She is all right. She is having her breakfast." I asked him what she was eating and he said, "Kangaroo." I said I had never heard of horse eating kangaroo before, and he replied: "I boil a camp-oven full every night for the mare's breakfast." I went over to see myself, and sure enough, the mare was tearing meat off the bones and devouring it like a wolf. "Yass, I boils that full every night for her and she can catch any brumby that roams these parts," said the old chap.
"Saltbush,"

Southern Cross.

Western Mail
June 1935

http://newspapers.nla.gov.au/
 
Reefing or Lode Chasing

REEFING is a term seldom heard nowadays. It consists of testing rock formations foot by foot with the aid of a dollypot. Samples are knocked off and examined through a powerful glass and any thing that appeals to the miners fancy is taken back to camp for dollying. Many good shows have been found by this means. Many oldtimers regarded the dollypot as the only sure means of locating payable ore and described their activities as reefing. The term lode chasing came later and is the term most used today. The old timer would also break and examine stone fragments on a hillside in recognition of the principle of shed, a principle followed more thoroughly by the loamer who also examines any rock fragments in his loams. The durable lode formations, however, shed so little of either rock fragments or metal that the shed is not encouraging. In fact some of the richest lodes found in the old days, and even in recent times, had such poor sheds that the saying arose, almost an axiom once, good shed poor lode, poor shed good lode. The reefers idea was to test the lode itself but where the lode is buried the napping hammer alone can lead only so far. In the absence of the sample dish and patient testing it then becomes a matter of costeaning and potholing. Very often the shoot is thus even more effectively hidden by destruction of the line of shed through earth and stones being thrown in all directions. Examples of this can be found in every mineral area and any one might richly reward the investigator.

The dollypot is commonly the lower half of an iron mercury bottle. The stone to be dollied is dropped in and pounded to powder with a length of iron or steel bar. Many things serve as dollypot and pestle. The object is to reduce a piece of rock to powder and thereby produce a sample of soil from the source itself. It is doing in five minutes what might take the weather a thousand years to do. An ordinary tin on a wood base will dolly many samples before becoming punctured. A Potts iron has a nice concavity under the cap plate and this was used for years by a Coolgarra miner with a Gympie hammer as a pestle and an ordinary saucer as a sample dish. When the rock to be dollied is very hard, preliminary roasting in the campfire usually solves the problem.

The dollypot has no rival in such places as Tennant Creek. The gold often occurs in massive iron stone and is patchy. The shed is poor and comparatively little alluvial gold has been found there. Learning is of limited help at Tennant Creek for apart from the scarcity of water a lot of the for mention would not shed more than a few specks per century. Cracow, however, has a few trails that have not been followed faithfully and there might be re wards for the careful loamer there. In both these places the dollypot has rendered valuable service.
The occurrence of gold in massive haematite is not according to Hoyle and Tennant Creek in its early days was regarded as an oddity with little chance of survival as a goldfield. At the Hammerjack mine just above Deens battery site Deens battery proved the field incidentally the gold is associated with yellow bismuth within the haematite. At Wau, New Guinea, gold is found with manganese. In parts of Australia gold is combined with tellurium as a telluride. Its association with copper, as at Mount Morgan, and with silver is well known. It also occurs with other metals and might be found anywhere, though rarely without luck, of course.

Other minerals also show a great variety of ways of being. And as well as that, there are so many variations in the nature of lode materials and for mations that the wisest course for the beginner is to be guided only by the presence or absence of the mineral sought, ignoring all other things for a start Though a rough idea of what to look for in the for mation is a help. An old prospector named Bennie Larcombe helped many beginners over the first hurdles in independent mining and his simplification was to base every lode formation on the general principle of the dyke. A dyke is like a wall of igneous rock with stratified rock on each side. It conceivably traces down to the molten matter below as it is like a crack that has been filled from the earths interior. Some of these dykes extend for hundreds of miles, shoots of ore occurring at intervals along them. The fabulous Gympie is on one such dyke; other shoots occur along its length. We can use Bennies simplification and for our purpose the dyke can be of any shape or size or angle. In that way fissure lodes, pipes, mullockies, flat lodes etc, will all amount to the same thing, that is, they have come up from below and formed shoots under the influence of walls of cooler matter.

It is not intended to be the truth, of course, but as Bennie said, it is something to stand on. Massive deposits like Mount Isa, Broken Hill, Mount Morgan and the huge iron deposits are hard to include in our simple conception. They are really too big to be contained in walls such as we have in mind. But the limits of these monsters are usually marked by a change that defines their areas; some times forming a contact with the country rock and at other times a heat altered change.
As well as the payable monsters there are often hundreds of square miles of very low grade ore that is in an original condition. There are granitic areas, for instance, that produce alluvial tin in abundance though a shoot can rarely be found. In such cases the country rock itself is a vast low grade deposit having no relationship with a dyke.

It must be understood, then, that our simplification is not intended to restrict lode formations to any certain form. But in most cases there will be walls that define the lode material. It might be, for example, a shoot of enrichment where two types of rock meet to form a contact wall. In nearly every case the simple dyke conception provides an explanation. And if we note the conditions under which a shoot has occurred we have a guide to other shoots in the immediate area for local conditions tend to repeat themselves. Where the wall is, say, porphyry and the lode material is, say, schist, the porphyry may outcrop while the schist has rotted down out of sight. In this case any shoots that occur along the line of contact are hidden under soil and they could not be found by napping pieces from the outcropping porphyry. This illustrates one of the weaknesses of the napping hammer. Without learning there would be no way of knowing that a shoot existed. These identical conditions are general in the country between Mount Garnet and Irvinebank. Once in Irvinebank, however, one of the best lode materials is porphyry itself. And incidentally there is a belief among miners that a shoot in porphyry tends to be strong and rich. A line of contact along which shoots occur at intervals often forms a ridge or line of hills persisting for miles. There are a few hawk-eyed men who range over the slopes of such a chain as a preliminary step. Some of these men can spot a pinhead speck from fifteen feet away. They seem to have developed a visual screening sense that registers only significant matter. Hillside gullies and runnels come in for their special attention and they can locate a very fine colour by blowing on a handful of dirt. It is a useful ability in dry areas.

One would think that not much would be over looked when these fellows are on the job but the fact is that some really big pieces have escaped the notice of experienced miners for years. A slug of tin weighing over 400 lb was lying beside a track at Mount Garnet for 50 years without being noticed. It was a commonly used seat and one miner admitted that he had proposed to the queen of his heart while she sat on that tin throne. Len Lucey, in whose hotel bar the slug was displayed for years after its discovery, had many times sat on it while his billy boiled during his boyhood wanderings. It was a test of strength to lift it from the bar to the floor and then replace it. Several could do it but it went through the floorboards occasionally when the weaker dropped it. It finally damaged a contestants foot and was sold to help defray his expenses. Many other big slugs have been picked up where the first one was found but the source has never been located. Like to try for it?
Unusually shaped pieces are sometimes picked up, often far from any possible source. A man named Tony Miles carried a golden pigeon for years. It was over three ounces and was perfect. It gave no evidence of human workmanship even when powerfully magnified and was probably an alluvial slug. No gold was known for hundreds of miles from where it was picked up and it had possibly been the treasure of an Original Aussie girl of long ago. Tony became stranded in Brisbane during the hungry thirties and finding he could not sell it for more than its gold value he pounded it with a hammer before parting with it. One of the little tragedies of the depression.

George Petersen picked up a tin egg a few years back. It was black tin and as big as a turkey egg. Faultless in shape, its very nature sparked off a search for a shoot that was named in advance the Tin Turkey. It was never found, however, and the conclusion reached was that the egg had been carried either as a curio or with a stick attached as a weapon by the Original Aussies.

Where good slugs are in the loam the shed may be trailed by what is called lousing. This consists of sifting the ground along the line of shed and collecting the slugs en route. It has located many shows and is a useful method in dry areas. Where the shed is rich it is a worthwhile form of alluvial mining and the keen-eyed can make it pay handsomely. Its weakness is that the operator tends to give up when the big slugs begin to peter out, as they generally do with approach to the source, and return to where the biggest slugs can be found a bird in the hand.

Dry tossing is another method used where water is scarce. A good tosser can separate mixed tea and sugar. It is a useful means of cleaning concentrates and even when the impurities are of much the same weight as the metal a good tosser can lift an unsaleable concentrate into the reasonable assay bracket. It is done with the prospecting dish and depends for its effectiveness on the behavior of different materials while being tossed in the dish. As the name implies the material must be dry and the dry tosser will only be found in action where his ability gives him an advantage, that is where water is scarce. An experienced buyer can estimate the degree of impurity in a sample of concentrate by tossing it, and his estimate is as good as an analysis, every bit as good. But even the best dry tossing could not be compared for speed and efficiency with the yanding of West Australian native women. They use a coolamon, a concave piece of wood or bark, and the way they make alluvial materials behave is nothing short of witchery.

It is impossible for anyone to be so well experienced that any ore at all is recognizable on sight. So there is no reason why the beginner should feel self-conscious. In the early part of this century immigrants camped at Phillips Hill in Indooroopilly, a suburb of Brisbane. At least two of them kept pieces of pretty stone dug from what later proved to be a silver-lead lode. They could not be expected to know what it was but how many others, including miners perhaps, had also passed over it?
Some ores, copper for instance, attract attention by their colours. But many others could be walked over and never seen without special knowledge. Then again, the ores of different metals are often deceptively alike. But prospecting need not be all navvying and guesswork. There are many tests involving hardness, streak, magnetism etc, and also the blowpipe which costs very little and does not take long to learn to apply. A booklet of instruction is provided with every outfit and it is a useful guide to identification as well as affording interest. Indeed, it provokes interest. The mines department will provide a scale of hardness and streak of ores on request (streak is the colour produced by abrasion). They will also identify and assay any ore of which the miner has hopes or is in doubt. There are, too, several useful tests that the miner can make with a test tube and spirit lamp. A suitable spirit lamp can be made by pulling a piece of cottonwool through a hole in a tin lid or bottle cap. A test tube costs only a few pence and very little else is required. The Mines Department will provide full information and meanwhile a couple of examples will illustrate the usefulness of this small laboratory in the field.

Tetrahedrite is supplied of copper and antimony. It is puzzling sometimes as even the colour of the flame in a blowpipe test may be masked by the antimony. To find whether copper is present, put powdered ore, about as much as a small pea, into the test tube and cover to about half an inch with nitric acid. Boil gently over the spirit flame and a green colour should appear. Now add a few drops of water and then ammonia drop by drop. If the colour turns to blue the presence of copper is certain. In the case of tetrahedrite the green may be a bit brownish and the blue a bit greyish but the reaction is distinct. The important safety precaution is to hold the test tube in a collar of folded paper and lean it away slightly.
Wolfram (which should be called wolframite as wolfram is the proper name of tungsten really), sheelite and hubnerite are valuable only for their tungstic acid content. To test for this boil the powdered mineral in spirits of salts for five minutes, adding water and spirits of salts occasionally. The liquid becomes yellow. Now dip in a piece of zinc (galvanized iron serves) with a split stick. The liquid effervesces and then turns blue or violet. Withdraw the zinc at once.
Tungstic acid is certain in any mineral when the colour is produced by this test.



The Dollypot in operation with oldtimer George Petersen wielding the pestle, a length of drill steel

1629154176_1.jpg


Alluvial miner Herbert with his Banjo"

1629154195_2.jpg


Testing alluvial wash with a shovel (only for experts)

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Taken from.

PROSPECTING / Cliff Miller Reefing or Lode Chasing (1 July 1963]

https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-30516646...02&partId=nla.obj-305190870#page/n21/mode/1up
 
GOLD IS WHERE FIND IT

By ROBERT A. FINDLAY

Wallagunda, now a ghost town, had been an early alluvial goldfield, so nine year-old Rossie Huskins, like most poor children in that district, always went out specking for gold grains along the water-courses after rain. He hid away his minute gleanings in many small bottles. One afternoon he found his first nugget on the old pock-marked field behind the town. It looked like an irregular sixpence, very waterworn, and it was the nicest, richest, biggest piece of gold hed seen. He didnt tell Mum or Dad because they were too old to understand the significance of finding your first nugget. They would want to sell it and put the money in his little red money-box. He wanted to keep this nugget, then wear it on his watch-chain when he got big. And he thought what a pity it was that everything had to be sold. He imagined this was all Mum and Dads idea, but later on he learned that poor people could never afford to do. The nice things such as keeping your first nugget, and wearing it on your watch-chain. In bed that night, under the friendly old patchwork quilt, Rossie thought about two thingshis nugget and Mr. Phipps, the local stock and station agent, who had caught Dad on the potatoes last year.

Last year Mr. Phipps,s Wallagunda sharp stock and station agent, hearing over the air that blight had broken out in Tasmanias potato crops, rushed away from his set and bought Huskins potatoes in the ground at l8 a ton. Mr. Huskins, who did not own a radio set, did not know he had been caught till next day, when a neighbour told him that the blight would increase the price of potatoes. But Rossies father kept his word on the deal, and his mum, who, after years of hoping, had been promised two weeks holiday with her sister on the coast, had do put it off for yet another year. However, she talked her husband into buying a set on time-payment. Each day from then on, Hilary Huskins was able to follow the steady rise in price of potatoes till at digging time they were 28 a ton. Only for the inviolable protection of the set being on time-payment, Hilary Huskins would have put an axe into it. Instead, he picked up his potato fork, spat on his shaking hands, and began digging for Phipps. It was a lovely crop.

During playtime at school next day, Rossie drew Benny Phipps, the stock and station agents son, aside. He had the nugget tied in the corner of a dirty handkerchief and undid the knot.
Gee, howled Benny, where did yer find it, Ross? Theres plenty more where it come from, Benny. Gee, it must be worth a terrible lot of money. Plenty more where it come from, Benny! emphasized the finder. Then he did the hardest thing, for he knew you could not catch fish with-out bait. Do you want it, Benny? The stock agents son looked scared. But its gold, Ross, real gold! You can have it, Benny; theres plenty more where this come from. MR. GREGORY PHIPPS stood with his back to the fireplace that evening facing his schoolboy son. It doesnt make sense, Benny. Theres this Huskins kid born and bred on a goldfield, and hes giving away nuggets to his mates But, Dad, he says theres plenty more where that come from. "Mr. Phipps weighed the smooth nugget in his big hand and rubbed it between thumb and finger. Is it any good askin you where it come from? I forgot to ask him, Dad. Mr. Phipps frowned: Youll never do any good in life, Benny, unless you learn to take a page out of my book; youve got to be one think ahead of the next man all the time, see. All right, Dad, absorbed the younger edition, but Rossie did say there was plenty more where that come from. Youre tellin me, son, there must be if that Huskins kid is givin it away In nuggets.
WHEN school came out the following afternoon, Mr. Phipps car happened to be passing. Hop in, Rossie, invited Mr. Phipps, Im going past your place. Rossies little heart was beating fast. The fish was starting to bite. But this six-foot-two, fifteen-stone whale scared him a bit, and when Rossie sat beside him the fish seemed even bigger. What do you do with yourself every day after school, Ross? Mr Phipps enquires benevolently. Oh, I just muck around; do a bit of fossicking. Fossicking, eh, I only wish my Benny would do something sensible like that after school. Look, Ross, what about taking Benny along with you one afternoon, teach him some thing about the game. Rossie didnt reply and looked out of the window. Mr. Phipps under-stood perfectly. He came on another tack. Did you know, Ross," his rough voice was full of menace, did you know if youre caught workln a claim when youre under twenty-one the policell put you in gaol? Rossie considered this undesirable factor Well, I can wait till Im twenty-one then, his slow voice continued. Gold isnt like potatoes, Mr. Phipps. Gold keeps in the ground and it never goes rusty, either." PHIPPS gripped the steering-wheel hard. He would like to have bitten it. Instead, he pulled up at the store and bought two double-headed ice-creams. He hated sticky, sweet ice-cream, yet he liked that mother lode which had never been traced on the local field. I was wondering, Ross," he mused, half-way down the ice-cream stalk, I was wondering if youd like some expert advice on how to work your claiml know gold mining backwards and this thing youre on now might be a blue duck. Will it cost me anything in commission? Good heavens, no. Mr. Phipps looked as if he had never heard worse. Why, I wouldnt charge my own mother for a thing like that. All right, agreed Rossie, but we mustnt tell Dad. Mr. Phipps dropped his ice-cream in alarm. . Why, your old man s not in it is he? No, but my claims on Dads land, and I want to buy the land off him cheap some day. So they made appointment for five o clock morning, when Mr. Huskins would be asleep.

Continued on next page
 
"DACK home, Rossie gathered together all the specks and grains from his gleaning, and was excited at the quantity. He had eight pieces that went almost a pennyweight each, many smaller snotty pieces and grains, and some dust. Rossie divided them into three parts, then made three wet clay pills of thumbnail size and planted the gold inside. Mr. Phipps, with prospecting pick and dish, was at the meeting place half an hour before time. He noted with superstitious approval the spot where Rossie led him, as it was here last year that he clinched a potato buy at l8 a ton which he later sold for 28 a ton. Now this is my claim, announced the barefooted guide. Ill wash a few dishes, Ross, and see if I can spot a colour, but if that quartz reef I see down there is shedding gold, then Im a monkeys uncle. Gold is where you find it, Mr. Phipps. The stock and station agent had to smile; there was something so serious about this Huskins kid. Mr. Phipps spotted a bar running down to the creek, and slammed away till he reached a shaly bottom. Rossie assisted him to scrape the sample into the dish and guaranteed values by slipping in one of his clay pellets. In the running water of the creek, Mr. Phipps kneaded and crushed the sample, screening out the larger stones. Once or twice he thought his eye spotted a gleam in the muddy water. He began to tail out the residue. Rossie heard the big man gasp, for it is a shock for any man to wash about four pennyweights of gold in a dish. Mr. Phipps took a second sample lower down. It panned out as rich as the first, and Rossie noticed a frightened look on the big mans face. Yet another trial washing was taken, this time well away from the bar and close to the unpromising reef, with Rossie Huskins helping all he knew to maintain consistent values. This one panned out about six penny-weights to the dish, but was somewhat contradictory, with smooth and coarse gold in the same sample. By this time the stock and station agent was more delirious than critical. Wed better clear out," warned Rossie, Dadll be getting up any minute now, and if he sees me takin samples he might want a lot of money when I go to buy this block off him. Dads funny like that. , . . In Mr. Phipps brain two words kept hammering Mother lode, mother lode. He was rather busy, too, building lovely golden castles in the air.
THEN Mr. Phipps returned to the Huskins farm after breakfast, he had his cheque book Well I think I might be able to do you a good turn Hilary, he began as Mr. Huskins came to meet in what way? suspiciously countered hossies father, putting hands on the front gate. The local stock and station agent smiled weakly. Perhaps I'm getting old and silly, Hilary but I cant get out of my nut the idea that Wallagundas going to grow, so Im sinking some money into real estate outside the town. Now you got a block about four acres over there , Mr. Huskins frowned at the mention of what he regarded as his bad luck block, then is eyes gleamed. For the second time he owned something which this sharp dealer wanted, but this time he knew its true value about 7O at the most. Usually a skilled bargainer, Mr Phipps had no previous experience in buying bonanzas and he rushed his fences a bit by offering l2O for the paddockreal estate being more valuable than farming land. Most cockles have a streak of cunning and Huskins reasoned that man as sharp -as Phipps was willing to pay l2O for a 7O buy, he might be willing to pay even more.
Worth more than that, Mr. Phipps, he bluffed, and the unconscious truth of this valuation was so demoralizing that Phipps raised his offer to 175. Right, clinched Mr. Huskins, suddenly grabbing the gate as his knees went with shock. Ill let it go at 175. But he wasnt game to let the gate go.
MRS, HUSKINS was away on her many-times-deferred holiday when Mr. Phipps commenced sinking his first prospecting shaft on the block. I thought the beggar bought it as a real estate investment, cursed Huskins to his son, hes got more twists in him than a corkscrew that Phipps has, he must have done some sneak prospecting when me back was turned, and found some-thing. He caught the ghost of a grin fading from Rossies face. Why couldnt you do some prospectin on your own fathers land, he grumbled, instead of speckin around on that old worked-out field back of the town? I cant be everywhere at once, Dad, and Im kept pretty busy as it is. Mr. Huskins snorted with sarcastic scorn and returned to Phipps duplicity. Everything he touches turns to goldlook at my potatoes last year I bet he makes his fortune there.
Gold is where you find it, Dad. Hell find it, son. I bet he makes his fortune now. He cant be blamed for tryin, Dad. And as weeks passed Mr. Phipps tried as hard as mortal man could try to find that mother lode. His shaft-sinking and driving reached a savage thoroughness which bordered on insanity. For he knew the gold was there. In the beginning, as a kind of compensation, Phipps had thought of slinging that Huskins kid a couple of bob a day to fool around on the claim after school, then as the weeks of singlehanded slavery dragged on he realized that such high wages would only hasten insolvency. But something about that paddock started to get on his nerves. Every morning when he began the profitless, grinding toil he found at the bottom of the shaft a potato,
covered with earth. Just a potato, yet it got right under his skin.

ABC weekly Vol. 12 No. 25 (24 June 1950)

1629410842_nla_ob13.jpg


https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/
 
Thanks guy's I sure will be putting a few more up. Not only are the yarns good but if a person is new to prospecting the information contained within some of the yarns is first class. But, I would rather be out digging gold! {lockdowns Grrrrr} Jemba
:Y:
 
BILLS YARN: & JIMS YARN.

Bills Yarn.

YOU dont believe in em ? said Bill. I did nt, either one time. But if ever you see one like I did and you lose your girl through it like I did youll believe in em right enough, I promise you !

Did the girl see it too, Bill ?

My word.

Were you scared ?

Was I scared ! Would you be scared if you saw six foot long of ghost coming at you ?

Tell us about it, Bill.

Well, mind you, this is a true yarn, and you d better make up your minds there s nothin funny in it. And there s nothin to laugh at in it, either. So, if any of you fellows wants to laugh, he d better start now, and well go outside an see whether he can give me a hidin or I can give him one. Lend s a match. And Bill lit his pipe.
We promised Bill that we would take his yarn seriously, because we could see he would be annoyed if we did nt, and Bill scales 12st. 131b.

They was havin races at Bogalong, said Bill, at the pub. And there was a little girl working there that I was shook on, name of Mary Mary darned if I dont forget her other name. Now, that s curious, too ! Mary well, no matter. Never mind her other name. But I. thought a lot of that girl those days. There was a jockey, though, named Joe Chanter, and I always thought he was the white-headed boy with Mary, and I had no show. But she was only stringing him on, after all Only Joe never found it out. He was ridin a colt for the publican this day in the Maiden, and the colt bolted and ran into a fence and chucked Joe, and they picked him up with his face stove in and his neck broke. He was nt a bad sort, Joe ; a long, slim chap he was tall as me, but thin some of you chaps might ha knowed him ?

No ? Lend s a match.

Mary did nt seem much cut-up over the accident, though she was keeping the other women company in howlin most of the after- noon. But all the women cheered up a bit after supper, and it was decided not to put off the dance at night, because there was a great crowd there, and the publican said it did nt matter about Joe Joe wouldnt mind. Landlord was thinking about what hed lose, you see, if they broke up the party. So they cleared the kitchen, and the fiddles played up, and at it they went. Now, I never was much of a dancer, and Mary was nt dancin, either ; she was helpin in the bar ; so I went in and talked to her instead. By-and-by I got her to come away and sit in the best parlour with me.

There was nobody there, and we sat down on the sofa, and got a bit confidential, and she said, when I asked her was nt she shook on Joe, * No, indeed, not on Joe. There was somebody else she said. I asked her who was he ? She says, A lot you care ! Indeed I do care a lot, Mary, I says. I dont believe you care anything at all about me, she says, half crying. Why, I says, Mary, you ought to know (an she did know, too, only she was foxing that theres nobody in all the world I do care about except you. Then she began to say something, out couldnt get it out for crying, an I cut in. Dont you know, Mary, that I love you ? I dont know, says she. Well, I do, then, I says, more than anything else in the whole world. Tell me, do you like me a little ? I got that out of a book I d been readin. Sounds silly rot, doesnt it ? Lend s a match.

Yes, I do, Bill, says she, * and I never liked anyone else. Well, then, of course you know what a fellowll do when a girl talks that way, and they re by themselves. By the Lord, boys, it was a treat to kiss that girl. She was just an armful of loveliness. Funny thing I cant think of her name. The music was going it out at the back all the time, and they were dancin away no end. Presently Mary says she d have to go ; she might be wanted ; and, of course, I said she d have to give me another kiss before she went. And she was just doin it, when, all of a sudden, she turns white an says

Oh, Bill, how wicked we are !

Why, Mary, says I, what s wicked about this lot ?

Just think. Bill, she says, here we are, talkin love and kissing, an poor Joe Chanter lyin dead in the very next room !

Great Scott ! says I ; is he ? and then Mary began to cry and laugh both together like, but she was hardly started when I hears an almighty bump on the floor in the next room, and then we both looks up, and there was Joe ! He was standing at the door, wrapped up in his windin-sheet, and his face was covered with blood. Mary gave one yell and ran out by the other door, and me after her, like blazes ! Scared 1 Now, would nt that ha scared you ? Lend s a match.

Well, and what was it. Bill ?

Great Scott, aint I tellin you ! It was Joe ! Cant a man trust his own flamin eyesight ?

And what happened after?

Nothin. Joe was dead enough when the rest came in and looked, and they wouldnt believe what I told em. Only Mary would nt look at me next day seemed
frightened like so I came away. I ve never been to Bogalong since.

We all thought Bills yarn a very unsatisfactory one, yet we could nt get any more out of him. But six months afterwards I heard Jims yarn.

2 Jims Yarn.

BOGALONG ? said Jim. Yes, I ve been there, and I dont want to go there any more. It was a bit funny, though, all the same. Oh, all right, I 11 tell you all about it.

I d just delivered a mob of stores at Pilligi, and as I was comin back, I made Bogalong about dusk. I thought I might as well be a swell for once, havin a bit of stuff, so I reckoned I d stay at the pub. all night. So I put my horse up, and had a drink, and asked if I could have a bed. But the place was full up they d been havin races that day and they said there was no bed for me, so I was goin away. But the publican called me back I spose he guessed I had a cheque on me and said he d find room for me somewhere. There s a double bed, says he, if you dont mind sharin it with another man. He s a very quiet fellow,he says ;
Ill answer for him not disturbing you. So I said all right, and after I had a few more drinks I went to bed. They had a dance on, but I was nt in the humour for dancin, for it was a hot night, and I was tired.

The other fellow must had been that way, too, I thought, for he was in bed already, I saw, when I went in. I did nt take much notice of him, except that he seemed pretty well covered up, for such a hot night. But after I put the light out, an lay down, I found that I d have to cover up, too, or else the mosquitoes would eat me. So I pulled the sheet off the cove an rolled it round myself, and went to sleep. But the noise of the music and the dancin woke me up after a bit, and I lay awake, growlin a bit to myself for a time, an I was just goin off again, when I heard some- one talkin in the next room. I had left the door open, an could hear quite plain. I was goin to sing out to them to clear out, or shut the door, or something, but when I heard what they were sayin, I thought it was too good to miss, so I listened.

It was some fellow doin a mash with a girl, and I could nt help laughin to myself to think how mad he d be if he knew some- body was listening. He was pretty solid with the girl, I could tell, and by-and-by he started kissin her, an I nearly burst myself laughin when that began, and he called her sweetheart, and darling, and all that. I was goin to wake up my mate, and let him share the fun, but I thought they might hear me, so I lay very quiet, until presently the girl says, * Oh, Bill ! and poor Joe lyin dead in the very next room !

I shoves out my hand as quick as lightning, and feels

for my mates face, and- -Great Lord ! it was as cold as a snake !

Holy Wars ! I says, and I gives one bound out of bed, forgetting all about the sheet bein wrapped round my legs. I came down an awful buster, and my nose hit the side of the bed, and started to bleed like a waterspout But I picked myself up and made for the door, and then I saw the fellow and the girl sitting together on the sofa. They had one look at me I was still rolled up in the sheet, and the blood was running down my face and then they cleared. By Jove they did travel ! I got my clothes on I did nt much care about going in for them, though and went out to the stable and got my horse and took the road for it, and went on to Blind Creek, and camped there.

But youd had laughed to see how them two footed it !

A. Chee.

Taken from.

Printed and Published by William Macleod. of Botany-street, Waverley, for The Bulletin Newspaper Company, Limited, at the office of the Company, 214 George-street North, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. December, 1901.
 
The Western Police in 1860's.

REMINISCENCES OF EX-SUPERINTENDENT SANDERSON.

FIFTY YEARS AN OFFICER.

Few people, to look at ox-Superintendent Sandersons erect and well-knit figure, would imagine that he had spent close on half a century in the police service of New South Wales. Mr. Sanderson was born within the sound of Bow Bells, in 1829, and enjoyed his first experience as a representative of law and
order in the London Police, having joined that force in 1848. This was after Sir Robert Peel had done away with the old London Charley or Watchman, with his colleague the Bow Street Runners, and in their place instituted the modern policeman, or Peeler as he was then called.
I arrived here in 1855, said Mr. Sanderson, under contract to the New South Wales Government, for a period of three years. At that time the police in the country districts were under the control of the Bench of Magistrates. In 1860 Sir Charles Cowper brought in a new Police Act, which came into force in the following year. This placed the complete police force of the colony under the administration of the Inspector-General. Pew people nowadays have an idea of the great difficulties the police had to contend against in the bushranging era in the fifties and sixties. The men of the road were looked upon as heroes, and were surrounded with such a crowd of sympathizers and friends, who often acted as bush telegraphs for them, that it was often impossible to keep our movements secret, to say nothing of getting trustworthy information. Needless to say, these people were well paid for their trouble, and shared in an indirect way in the proceeds of robberies and sticking-up cases. Even when people were willing to give information they were afraid to; it would mean that they might be shot themselves, or at least get their farms, stables, or haystacks burnt. I never went into a respectable house if I wanted to learn anything. We had scores of persons who willfully came and gave us wrong information. When an affair was reported I never looked for the perpetrators in the locality where it had taken place. I lot others do that, for I knew that the game I wanted was, by that time, in a very different direction.
Bushranging often led to bogus sticking-up cases. There was nothing easier than for anyone entrusted with money or valuables to say that he had been stuck up, and make away with the property himself. In two cases 1 was able to bowl servants out who tried this sort of thing, as I proved that the men who were supposed to have robbed them were hundreds of miles away at the time; but there were undoubtedly many cases that were never found out. In the old days crime was much easier than it is nowadays. The means of communication were slow, we had no railways or telegraph lines in the interior then. Again, a man working on a station would be only known as Bill, Jim or Sam. After perhaps having saved up a years wages he would say one day I think Ill go to the diggings. It might be Ophir, Turon, Kiandra, or any new rush. He might be murdered and robbed before he had gone 50 miles, but nobody was the wiser and nobody cared. It was only a case of an unknown Bill, Jim or Sam rubbed out. It may seem a paradoxical thing to say, but an educated criminal is much easier to trace than an uneducated one. The educated man allows for all sorts of contingencies that never take place, and makes no provision for those that do occur. The other man goes at it without thought, and stands a much better chance. I remember when Crotty, the mailman from Marengo to Lambing Flat, was found murdered on the road, the only clue I had was a cook's knife, which was found near the dead mans body. After a series of investigations, which I neednt go into here, I found it belonged to a French cook, Rebardy, who had been employed at an hotel at Lambing Flat. If it hadnt been that he had an abnormally long neck I dont think we would ever have got him. If a man has any peculiarity or deformity it is, of course, always easier to trace him. You have heard of the old superstition of a murderer returning to the place where he has committed a murder? Well, strange to say, thats what happened in this case, though I dont put it down to any remorse on Rebardys part, or that of Ids accomplice, Revi. After tracing him 300 miles to Forbes, I commenced searching the hotels for him, and while in the billiard-room of one I saw a man with a long neck pass through the room. After getting several of the Lambing Flat diggers who were then in Forbes to identify him as Rebardy, I arrested and charged him with the murder. He had resumed his old vocation of cook at the hotel in question. He was tried before Sir Alfred Stephen at Goulburn, and sentenced to death, Revi getting 15 years.

THE MYSTERIOUS SKULL.

The fact that men occasionally double back on their tracks after committing a crime reminds me of another case which caused me a considerable amount of trouble. One Monday morning the sheep on Mr. Rotherys run at Cliefden, near Carcoar, were noticed running about without a shepherd. The sheep were collected, and another man was put in charge. After the new shepherd had been there for some months he was fossicking one day on the range behind the hut, when he discovered a mans skull. An inquest was held on it, and a medical man gave it as his opinion that the skull was that of a European about 45 years of age. This led us to suppose that the skull was Woods, the missing man, who was about that age. In the meantime we learnt that another man was missing. This was M'Coull, about 23 years old, slightly imbecile, who earned his living by minding other shepherds sheep while they went away on a drinking bout. Here, then, was a predicament : two men missing, and only one skull found. Whoso was it? I again had the skull examined, this time by another doctor, and the latter was confident that the skull belonged to a European between 20 and 30 years of age. This made me think that perhaps the skull was not Woods, but MConHs, and the enquires made confirmed this opinion. M'Coull used to carry 3 or 4 in notes and a similar amount in silver, and this caused his trouser pockets to protrude. On the Sunday, that is the day previous to the sheep being found wandering about, lie had called at a shepherds hut and written a letter there to his mother, enclosing a l note. To post this in Carcoar he had to pass Woods hut. On the same night Wood had called at another hut and had a pot of tea with the shepherd.
He told him he had left Mr. Rotherys. The shepherd told him he was a fool to leave without getting his money. Oh, said Wood, thats all right; Ive got plenty, and he pulled out a handful of notes and silver. When did you get that ? said the shepherd. To-day, from the Bank Manager at Carcoar, replied Wood. The shepherd reminded him that it was Sunday, and that it was impossible to get money out of the bank on that day. Wood explained this by saying he got a '* sweater (a horse taken on French leave), and had ridden into Carcoar, and that as the Manager was a friend of his, ho had fixed him up. This information narrowed the affair down to Wood, and though we searched high and low for him for months, he had as completely disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him up. One evening Sergeant Sutherland and I camped on the Belabula River, near Rotherys Station, when we saw a fire suddenly lit near the homestead. We went over out of curiosity, just to see who it was, and when we reached the spot we found a man camping by the fire for the night. Something prompted me to ask him if his name was Wood, and if he had over been employed on the station as shepherd. He denied this vigorously. I said, A well, we can settle the matter very easily. We will go over to Mr. Rotherys and ask him if he knows you. He assented readily enough, but when we were near the house he admitted that his name was Wood, and that he had been shepherd on the run. I arrested him and charged him with the murder, and subsequently I conducted the case at Carcoar against him. I got the Bank Manager to prove that he had never had an account at the-bank. M'Coull never turned up from that day to this, and though there was one connecting link missing, that is, the identity of the skull, Wood in the end was committed for trial and found guilty.
When Mr. Rotherys son had ridden over on the Monday morning and found the sheep straying about, he noticed a lot of crows cawing loudly as they settled on the top of one of the mountains behind the hut. I asked him why he did not go and see what it was, and he told me that, as he was riding a young horse without shoes, he was afraid of cutting its hoofs against the sharp slatey sides of the mountain. Had he gone up, there is no doubt he would have found MCoulls body. As it was, we were very lucky to have found the skull, for the dingoes had evidently torn the body to pieces and gone off with the rest of the flesh and bones. Woods mysterious disappearance was explained by the fact that after murdering M'Coull he had gone to Mudgee and blowed the proceeds of the robbery. When on the bust, he had then stolon some clothes from a shop, for which he got six months; so that while we were looking every-where for him, he was snugly hidden in Mudgee Gaol. Had he not come back to the place where he committed the murder it is doubtful if we should ever have got him. But that is one of the peculiarities of criminal instinct which cannot be explained.

THE EUGOWRA GOLD ROBBERY.

Ive had a pretty extensive experience of service through New South Wales. I was first stationed in Sydney, where I remained for about five years. I then went to Kiandra, and since then I have been at Bathurst, Tamworth, Maitland, Narrabri, Lambing Flat, Forbes, Grenfell, and a host of intermediate rushes. The biggest thing I was connected with was the Eugowra gold escort robbery. The escort left Forbes on 15th June, 1862, in charge of Sergeant Condell and Constables Moran and Haviland, the driver being John Fagan, a well-known identity in the western district. The coach carried several thousand ounces of gold and a largo amount in cash and bank notes. Captain Brown and Commissioner Grenfell wore to have accompanied it, but at the last moment preceded it to Orange. When the coach reached Eugowra Rocks, near Gates Road, a couple of volleys were poured into it, and Condell and Moran were both wounded, while the others all had narrow escapes. The horses bolted, over-turning the coach, and the bushrangers then had an easy task to secure the treasure. As soon as the news reached Forbes, Sir Frederick Pottinger, the Superintendent there, set out immediately for the scene of the robbery, and the trackers very soon brought him to where the bushrangers had camped. On leaving Forbes I took four men and a black tracker, with the object of moving in a different direction, as it was only natural to suppose such a large party of bushrangers would separate. 1 camped by the banks of the Lachlan, and as there were no tracks on the opposite bank, I presumed some of the men had made for the Weddin Mountains. When we reached Ben Halls house near Wheogo, the tracker noticed a man riding from it for all he was worth. Surmising this was a bush telegraph, we followed him immediately, and in course of time his tracks brought us to a camp, which had evidently been abandoned in a hurry. We pushed on as fast as we could, and were soon rewarded by seeing a pack horse in the trees ahead. When we came up with it we found four bags of gold, containing 1239 ounces, strapped to the saddle. It was then dark, and as we consequently could follow the tracks no further with them in that condition, we returned to Forbes, consoling ourselves that if we hadnt caught anyone, we had recovered part of the gold. I arrested two menCharters and Win. Hallon suspicion of being concerned in the robbery. They were remanded for trial, bail being refused. Charters then sent for me, and confessed that he was in the robbery, and gave me the names of the others, some of whom we had not up to that time suspected. These were McGuire, Fordyce, Bow, and Turner alias Manns, who had escaped from Pottinger, but had since been arrested. I immediately arrested McGuire, Fordyce and Bow. Charters implicated others, but these were out of our reach at the time. The prisoners were removed to Bathurst, where the case was heard with closed doors. They were formally committed for trial, Charters being released on bail. The Bathurst people wore anxious that a Special Commission should try this and other cases in Bathurst, but the Government, while granting a Special Commission, decided that the trial should take place in Sydney. 1 was put in charge of the escort which brought them to Sydney, and in this case I can tell you it was a strong one. In addition to the men charged with! the gold robbery, I had other prisoners, including Alexander Ross, Charles Ross, and William OConner, charged with the Caloola outrage, and Healy, Mac Kay and Williams for robbery under arms. So you see I had a good handful to look after. -
When the trial came off, Charters, as I have already said, turned informer, and intimated that Gardiner had forced him to take part in the robbery, and that he had never fired a shot. The late Sir James Martin defended the prisoners, while Attorney-General Hargreaves prosecuted. Pottinger and I both gave evidence, but the jury were unable to agree, and the prisoners were remanded for a second trial, which took place a fortnight after. On this occasion Fordyce, Bow, and Manns were found guilty and McGuire not guilty. Eventually the sentence on Fordyce and Bow was commuted to imprisonment for life, but Manns was executed. As regards the Caloola prisoners, who had endeavored to murder Stephens, a storekeeper there, in a brutal manner, OConner was imprisoned for life, but Alexauder and Charles Boss were both hanged. I retired from the force a few months ago. After so many years of service I thought I would hardly know what to do with myself, but Im getting used to it now. The old bush life was a rough but a healthy one. Ive often been out a month, and during all that time we never lit a fire after dark, and when we camped we always slept a good distance from each other, in case of surprises. Ive had plenty of exposure in all sorts of weather, but it has never affected me. Im just as free from rheumatism and kindred ills as I was the first day I made my acquaintance with the Australian bush, away back in the roaring fifties.

To Be Continued.
 
Part 2

EX-SERGEANT M. HANLEY'S REMINISCENCES. FORTY YEARS ON DUTY IN THE WEST.

The way I happened to join the police was rather peculiar, said Mr. Hanley. 1 arrived in Melbourne in' January, 1863, and was then about 23 years of age. The first day that I landed in Sydney, October Ist, 1863, I met a friend of mine called Bannon, whom I had known at my home in Ireland. Though he had only been here a month he was already a member of the police force, and was very anxious that I should also join. I happened to have a letter of introduction to Sir Terence Aubrey Murray from a friend of his in Ireland, and Bannon said if I presented this it would be the means of my getting an appointment at once. When I called to see Sir Terence he advised me to wait, as he could do something better for me. However, Bannon worried me so much to join that I again saw him, and he gave me a letter to the Inspector-General, with the result that I was taken on immediately. I had not been in the force more than a week when I was anxious to leave itfor reasons which I neednt go into. I found I could not do this for 12 months, the only method of leaving being to commit a breach of the regulations, and this I would not do. About three weeks after I had joined the force Sub-Inspector Black, then in charge of the Depot, came to me and told me that as I was dissatisfied he would give me a chance to leave Sydney, but that, if I accepted, I would have to leave in halt an hour. This was just after the Ben Hall gang had raided Bathurst in such an audacious manner, and instructions had been received to send up reinforcements immediately. We left that night by train, which then went only as far as Penrith. There was no bridge over the river, the crossing being made by means of a punt. I had asked for a change, and I certainly got it. During the next 40 years I was never again on duty in Sydney, and for many years I put in as rough a life as mortal man could wish for in the Western District.

We took two nights and a day reaching Bathurst by coach. When we arrived there Superintendent Morrissett immediately sent us on the road again, before we had even time to eat anything. The reason of this was that the Dunns Plains tragedy had just taken place. We halted at Rockley, and there we took up our quarters. The police station was a small cottage without any accommodation at all, and we had to lie down and camp as best we could with our blankets and saddles. The township was in a state of great excitement, and every man. in it had been sworn in as a special constable. The Dunns Plains affair is pretty ancient now, but I may say right away I dont think Keightley ever shot Burke. The former was Gold Commissioner for the district that is now known as Campbells River, and rented a house on a cattle station. In his capacity of Gold Commissioner, he was allowed a camp keeper, and this position was filled by a man named Baldock, his wife also being employed by the Keightleys. Keightley rented 20 or 30 acres from the station, and on this he bred pigs in large quantities, which he sold at a handsome profit to the Chinamen. These pigs were the cause of several disputes between Keightley and the station overseer, and the latter informed Keightley that he would get even with him. I may digress here a bit to say that, if any man could give you a complete history of the Ben Hall gang, it would be that same overseer. He was, I think, the finest horseman I ever saw, and a regular bush dandy. The flash stockmen of that day somewhat resembled the Mexican cowboy. They wore their hair long, had most expensive riding boots, while their vests were generally trimmed with blue velvet, with a red sash across the waist. Their fingers were covered with rings, and they sported as much Jewellery as possible across their shirt and vest. The overseers display of gewgaws was particularly liberal, and as his salary was not a large one, it was only natural to suppose that he gratified his tastes by questionable means. The general idea was that Keightleys house was attacked by the bushrangers because he was supposed to have given the police information of their movements, and I merely mention these facts to show that there was probably another reason. I think this is borne out by the fact that, after the raid, the overseer was dismissed. He took a hotel at a bush township, which was a most notorious rest of bushrangers and their adherents. To show the state of affairs, I may mention that one storekeeper, House, in the town was stuck up and cleaned out many times, to say nothing of several other serious affairs there. Years after I met our friend on the Bogan. He was the same reckless fellow, and was quite willing to talk over bushranging events that is, without giving anyone away or without incriminating himself.

THE DUNNS PLAINS TRAGEDY.

But to come back to the Dunns Plains affair. Keightley was evidently aware that the bushrangers would pay him a visit, for he made some bullet-proof shutters to fit over the windows. About dinner time one Sunday afternoon five men were seen riding towards the house. These were none other than Ben Hall, Gilbert, OMeally, Burke, and Vane. Mrs. Baldock was taking some things from the house to the kitchen, and she at first thought it was a party of police. She was soon undeceived, however. The gang made for the stables at the rear of the house, and, getting into the loft, immediately opened fire on the house. On the top of the house was a lookout, and there Keightley stationed himself, having a double-bricked chimney between himself and the bushrangers. He had sent Dr. Pechey (at that time a guest of his) to secure additional arms and ammunition, but this the doctor was unable to do, without exposing himself to the fire of the bushrangers. At the back door was a porch, and beside this a watercask. When the attack commenced, Burke rushed from the stable and hid behind the cask, with a view to getting a better shot at those in the house. He hadnt been there long before he was observed to roll over and cry out. The others then immediately rushed over, and found that he had been shot. The charge had ploughed right across his abdomen. They found Dr. Pechey and Mrs. Keightley in one of the rooms, and demanded Keightley, and OMeally, who was a particular friend of Burkes, threatened to burn the house down. Im inclined to think it was Mrs. Baldock who told them he was on the roof of the house. When Keightley was secured, OMeally took him to a well which was in the yard near the detached kitchen. The well was logged up about three feet from the ground on which the windlass was placed. OMeally placed him here, and then went back ten or twenty paces, saying he would give him five minutes to live. Ben Hall now interfered, and told him to put down his gun, and said, You fool, you know he didnt shoot him. You can imagine what an awful time it was for Mrs. Keightley when her husbands fate hung by a mere thread, and, needless to say, she begged very hard that his life should be spared. Dr. Pechey had gone in to Hockley to procure his instruments in order to see if he could be of any use to Burke. He returned and sewed up the wound, but it was of no use, and Burke shortly after died. This, of course, made matters all the worse for. Keightley, but after a great row amongst the bushrangers, it was arranged that Keightleys life would be spared if a ransom of 8OO was paid the next morning. As this was the sum Keightley would get for shooting Burke, Mrs. Keightley and Dr. Pechey immediately set out for Blacktown, where they proposed to get the money from Henry Rotten, Mrs. Keightleys father. It was naturally a journey of considerable difficulty, as well as anxiety. Not only had the affair to be kept strictly secret, for, in the event of the police being informed, Keightley would be unceremoniously shot, but in addition it is not always easy to raise such a large amount as 8OO at a moments notice. Fortunately, all difficulties were overcome, and the doctor and Mr. Rotten drove back at the appointed time, and paid over the amount in 5 notes. Rotten wisely took the precaution of keeping the numbers, and this in due course led to the arrest of people who tried to pass themone young fellow who was evidently buying things in Bathurst for the gang getting five years hard labour. Keightley received the reward of 8OO for shooting Burke, and was made a Police Magistrate. Sir Charles Cowper, then Premier, ordered gold medals for conspicuous service and bravery by private individuals against bushrangers, and Keightley was presented with one of these by Sir Henry Parkes. At the time of the presentation, Baldock, the man I have already alluded to, wrote to the papers and gave the same version of the event that I have told you.

No, I never heard that Burke had been shot by one of his own mates, nor do I suppose it likely. I think it just a case of his mates shooting him accidentally. If Keightley had shot him, the wound would have been of a different nature, as he was at a considerably higher elevation than Burke. A medal was also presented to Mr. Campbell, who shot OMeally, the most blood-thirsty member of the gang, when they were attacking his station one night at Goimbla, while another was presented to the widow of Land Commissioner Grenfell,' in whose honour the town of Grenfell was named. He was fatally wounded after a desperate encounter with bushrangers near Narromine, in 1866. Silver medals were advanced to the police for similar services, and amongst those who received them were Constable Middleton and Sergeant Walker. Middleton arrested Gardiner at Fish River after a terrible struggle, and Walker shot Thunderbolt in 1870.
After the Dunns Plains affair we were kept going pretty well. I put in 2} years round Rockley and Bathurst. For fifteen months I was kept continually in the bush. Those were the days for horses; you dont find their like nowadays. Ive known a horse keep up a swinging gallop from morn till night without bite, and unshod. Good as they were, the bushrangers were often better off. Blood stock or racers were their favourite mounts, and they didnt spare any trouble to get them, either by fair means or foul, generally the latter. One of the most remarkable men I met at this time was McGlone, who afterwards arrested Gardiner at Apis Creek, near Rockhampton. McGlone always worked on his own in the bush, though he knew if he were caught by the bushrangers it meant sudden death. I have seen him after he had been some months in the bush, on the trail, or in quest of information, absolutely a bundle of rags, his clothing worn to tatters, and yet he never complained. The curious press and public never discovered how he had obtained the information that Gardiner was keeping a store in Queensland, after his mysterious disappearance; he simply left Sydney with a couple of police for Rockhampton, and so quiet did he keep the matter that he didnt even tell them of his mission till they had almost reached their destination. The arrest was particularly ingenious, and the way he got Gardiner out of Queensland showed he was a man who knew how to act in an emergency, for I suppose you know there was a movement to prevent Gardiner leaving the colony. McGlone promptly settled this by immediately removing Gardiner from the goal to the steamer, which left soon afterwards for Sydney. My next station was Stoney Creek, now known as Stewart Town. This was the center of a large gold district, and comprised such fields as lronbarks, Macquarie River, Muckarawa, and Burrandong. We had a busy time inspecting miners rights, and I have had as many as 60 Chinamen on a chain bringing them from Ophir to Stoney Creek. I remained here fourteen years, was Gold Receiver and in charge of the Gold Escort, and as the goldfields had attracted rogues and vagabonds from all parts of the world, we naturally had plenty to do.

A CHINESE CAMP ROBBED.

I once had rather an amusing experience with another constable named Murphy. We were riding down the Ginger, which leads in to the Muckarawa, and when we had reached a rather barren part of the track we met some Chinamen coming towards us. They were in a state of wild excitement, and jumping about like a lot of dancing Dervishes. They simply hopped about us bellowing Bushlanger! Bushlangerl Having delivered them-selves of this utterance, they bolted back down the track, like a lot of frightened rabbits. When we reached their camp, we discovered some who werent quite so mad, and could talk a little more English. We then learnt that a man had come that afternoon and stuck up the whole camp up, and had robbed them of any money they possessed. They had noticed another man keeping watch on the hills. The only clue they could give us was that the first man was armed with a gun and a double-barrelled pistol, with a clean piece of white stick in it for a ramrod. After getting this information, the Chinamen put us on the track, which we had no difficulty in following up, as it was wet weather at the time. The tracks in due course brought us to the Muckarawa Hotel, where we found two men. They were just as surprised to see us as the Chinamen had been when they were bailed up. They told us with the greatest good humour that they were innocent, however, and as there was only one way to settle the matter, they agreed to return with us to the camp to see if the Chinamen would identify them. When we got there, to our disgust the Chinamen simply said, No him; another bushlanger. This was hardly complimentary to our amused companions, but they good naturedly accepted our apologies, and rode off. In their excitement the Chinamen had put us on the wrong track! This was bad luck, as it meant a delay of some hours, and it was not far off dusk. However, we got a candle and a couple of boxes of matches, and taking a Chinaman with us to lead the horses, we determined to push on as far as we could. There were two gullies close together, and we had been directed into the wrong one. We went on till we had used up all our light, and as it was then pitch dark, we held a consultation as to what had best be done. I remembered that a little further on there was an old lambing station belonging to Townsend, of Tambarrura.

There was a gunyah on this, and I thought this would be a likely place for our quarry to make. We decided to push on, but when we turned round to look for the Chinaman and our horses they had vanished. This was a nice predicament, and pretty serious, tooafter bushrangers and to lose our horses! We went back a bit, found our horses tied up, but the Chinaman had evidently got frightened, and scuttled back to camp. I promise you, if Id got hold of him, hed have remembered it for-a day of two. We pushed on, and by good luck the moon rose, and by-and-bye we came on the remains of an old sheepyard. Soon afterwards we saw the gunyah, and as we didnt know which side the opening was, Murphy took one side and I took a circuitous route, to come out on the other. I struck the opening first, and found three men asleep, with a log burning at their feet. As I stood over them I cast a shadow, so I struck a match. As I did so I noticed the middle man reach his hand over his head. I hit him over the wrist with my revolver, which made him drop his hand pretty quick. Before the flare of the match went out I noticed a double barrelled pistol placed in the gunyah over his head, and sure enough the little white ramrod the Chinaman had described was in it. Murphy came up, and we had the handcuffs on them in no time. The principal offender was tried before Judge Carey, and got fifteen years.

Round about the Burrandong Goldfield, cattle stealing was very rife. It was a very profitable employment, as meat could be quickly and easily disposed of to the diggers at a handsome profit, the only means of tracing them being by the hides, which could safely be hidden or destroyed. On one occasion 20 head of fat bullocks were stolen from McNevins station, on the Bell River. It is not easy to get cattle to swim unless they are what are known as river cattle. In this instance the annuals were of the latter variety, and the thieves swam them over the river, and then, by a series of ingenious devices, mixed the tracks up so that it was almost impossible to trace them. Eventually I recovered nine head of cattle and eleven hides. I arrested one of the two men who had sold them. He was tried at Mudgee, and got five years. He was defended by Mr. William Lang in what was his first and last case, and he lost it. George Reid also made his first appearance here, and I remember that Mr. Teeco, who was the, Crown Prosecutor, had a difference with him, and spoke rather slightingly of the junior barrister. Mr. Reid admitted that he was only a colt, who had not yet got his paces, but, he remarked, with considerable emphasis, the day will come when I shall gallop, a prophecy which the right lion, gentleman certainly seems to have verified.

WHAT HAPPENED TO MURPHY.

I have so often mentioned my friend Murphy, who frequently accompanied me on many of my expeditions that you may be interested to know something of his subsequent career. Sometime after leaving Stoney Creek he was stationed at Brewarrina, and he wrote to me from there, telling me he was leaving the force, and asking me if I would join him in a business venture. I replied that I could not do so at the time, but that if he could wait I could see my way to do it. He wrote back, saying that he could not postpone what he had in view, or he would lose it. He subsequently took a store at Cunnamulla, in Queensland. His place was just opposite the bank, and one day the Managers wife ran over to the store, and said a man was murdering her husband. Murphy, in his impetuous manner, rushed to the bank without waiting to arm himself. When he entered the bank the Manager, so far from being murdered, was simply cowering in a corner, while the intruder was helping himself to the contents of the safe, covering the Manager with his revolver at the same time. Murphy immediately closed with the robber, and they had a terrific struggle.

Murphy endeavored to get hold of-the revolver, and he would have had an easy task if the Manager had stayed to help him, but the latter immediately rushed out, screaming Murder! and never stopped to lend a helping hand. The desperado was a much stronger and heavier man than Murphy, and finally succeeded in throwing him and shooting him in the groin. He then made off, but the trackers discovered him hiding in the branches of a tree. It was then a case of dont shoot; Ill come down. Murphy was dangerously wounded, and the bank authorities arranged for him to be driven to the railway, which was then a considerable distance from Cunnamulla. Here he was placed on the train and taken to Brisbane. The bullet was removed in the Brisbane Hospital, and after a long illness Murphy recovered. He was thanked by the Attorney-General for his services, and offered a reward by the bank officials. The latter he declined to accept, but requested that, as the bank had lost no money, they should reinstate the Manager, who had been suspended. I saw the account of the affair in the papers, and not having seen Murphy for years, I wrote ,to Brisbane, enclosing the press clippings, and asked if it was the same man who had spent so many years in the bush with me. I got a reply stating it was the same man, and that he had a prosperous business at Cunnamulla.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAN WHO COULDNT READ.

One of the cases that gave me vast trouble was a murder at Smiths station, at Narrogoll, on the Bell River. Just to show that small things may occasionally cause a crime, I may mention that the murder was due to the fact that a man couldnt read. I got word early in the morning that Tom Baker, one of the shepherds, was found dead outside his hut. I went over the mountains to strike the Bell River, and in the course of time came to the hut, which I found locked. There was nobody about, but on looking round I saw a blanket spread out about twenty yards from the hut. When I lifted it up I discovered beneath it the dead body of a little man, about 70 years of age. There were fearful wounds in the head, chest and body, evidently inflicted by a tomahawk. I noticed that the body had been dragged there, and I followed the blood spots on the grass till I found a distinct trail leading to the hut. I concluded that the murder had taken place in the hut, and that the body.. 'had been afterwards dragged to the spot where I. found it. I sent word into the station, asking the Manager and the overseer to come out to see me. When they arrived I asked who had discovered the body, and they told me that a man named Macartney, who had come to the station for the shearing, had reported the murder to the head station at daylight, and was then away with the sheep belonging to the dead man. I went to look for him, and found him coming away from the river just as he was going to camp for dinner. I wasnt long in conversation with him before I came to the conclusion that he knew more than he told me. He contradicted himself in his answers, and a suspicious circumstance was that his trousers and shirt were spotlessly cleana very unusual thing with a station hand. I took him back to the hut, of which he had the key, made him undress, and examined ids clothes. I found bloodstains in the inside of the pockets, where his hands had gone in, on his shirt and on his boots between the soles and uppers. I took possession of all these things, and charged him with the murder. The next thing was to find a motive for the crime. It appeared that when Macartney had been on the station during the last shearing season he had fallen in love with the daughter of a neighbouring shepherd. As the girl was very young, he had asked her fathers permission to marry her the following year. One day he got a letter, and as he couldnt read or write, he took it to old Baker to read it for him. This turned out to be a letter from Macartney's wife, who had heard where he was, and what his intentions were, and warning him that if he persisted in marrying again she would make things unpleasant. Baker informed the girls father of these facts, and the next time he called at the house the door was shut in his face. This, as events turned out, was a foolish thing to do, as they could easily have made some excuse that would have screened Baker. Macartney knew, of course, who had given him away, and the natural inference then was that he had gone and murdered Baker, in revenge.

As the case was one of purely circumstantial evidence, I naturally collected all the information it was possible to get. I had already two or three bags full of exhibits, but Sir George limes, the then Attorney-General, was anxious that I should get the instrument with which the murder had been committed. In my search, I practically pulled the hut and sheep pens to pieces, then ten or twelve of us stripped and went into the river near the hut. The water was up to our chins, but we all joined hands together, and felt with toes and feet in the mud to see if we would discover anything. One day I went up by the river with Mr. Smith in search of Page, the shepherd. We rode along till we saw Page sitting on a log. We sat down beside him, and while I was telling them of my difficulty, I remarked that we were in the flat where I had arrested Macartney. The top shell of the log we were sitting on was broken, and one of us, I dont remember which, suggested the log we were sitting on would make a good hiding place for what I was searching for. We tipped the log over, and sure enough there we found a tomahawk. There were several grey hairs sticking to it. These might, of course, have been dogs hair or any other animals, but when the axe was sent to the Government Analytical Chemist, he certified that it was human hair. Macartney was tried before the late Sir William Manning at Mudgee, and defended by the late David Buchanan, the Crown Prosecutor being Mr. Isaacs. The trial lasted four days, and a great number of witnesses were called, but Macartney was in the end found guilty and sentenced to death.

TO BE CONTINUED
 
Part 3

A CATTLE STEALING CASE.

A good many of the cattle stealing cases I had in hand were defended by the late W. B. Dailey, and on every occasion he smashed them up and got his man off. One of the best known characters in the Western District at this time was John Maxwell, of Narrogall. He had originally been Superintendent of Convicts in Wellington, when the old stockade was in existence. When it was abolished he received a Government grant of land on the Bell river at Narrogall, 10 miles from Wellington. He became a big squatter, turning his attention to sheep and horses, particularly the latter. His horses were noted for many years in Sydney as carriage and bus horses, being distinguished by the J. L. brand. He was so accustomed to the deference and respect of the convicts for so many years that he seemed as if he could not do without always having them about him. So he had a number of huts built, and a kind of street formed, leading away from his own house, and in each hut was a shepherd and a hut keeper. There would be generally ten or twelve of these men living on the station. The sheep were cut up into small flocks, so that each would have something to do, though, as a matter of fact, one-third of the number could have done all the work. I often saw him walk out in the morning, and these old men, who had been convicts, would all come out of their huts, and, taking off their hats, bow down to the ground as the great man passed. That was what he wanted, and what he would have. As an instance of his peculiarities, I may mention that on one occasion when I was at the homestead he ordered two of his old lags to harness the horse. The men did this, and, knowing what was required, put the horse in the cart and finished harnessing him to it. Maxwell stood by without saying a word, but when they had finished he demanded who had told them to put the horse in the cart. No one, sir, said the men. Then take him out, at once, he thundered. They did so, and as soon as they had finished, he said, Put him back again, and another time, remember not to do anything till you are told. One day his overseer came to me at the police station in Ironbarks (now known as Stewart Town), and reported that one of Mr. Maxwells fat bullocks had been stolen, and that they had found the track leading through a broken panel of the fence in the direction of the Macquarie. I went down with another man for about nine miles, picked up this track, and followed it to the Wellington Road, where it was obliterated by a flock of sheep being driven over it. By that time, I had been joined by the overseer and one of the stockmen. I wished to keep on searching till I could find the track again, but the overseer was opposed to it and left me. I went on with the trooper, and succeeded in picking up the track, and followed it to a selectors place at Reedy Flat.

This man I knew I could trust, so I said to him, Did you know anything about a bullock track from Maxwells paddock to here? He said, Yes, one of my bullocks was knocked up a month ago on Mumble Hill, and I put him in Mr. Maxwells paddock by his authority. I went for him yesterday, and took him out through a broken panel of the fence in the presence of the overseer and drove him straight here. He showed me the bullock, and I then went back to Narrogall for the night. When I saw Mr. Maxwell I told him that his men were deliberately setting me astray, and that the bullock was stolen by some of their friends, whom they were shielding. When I explained to him about the tracks he agreed with me, and told me to act as I thought best. I then set myself to work this out, in spite of the treachery of the station hands. No one knew this except Mr. Maxwell and my man. Next morning early I gave out that I thought the bullock had been taken to Gunners Dam, some 25 miles away, and as a blind took the stockman ten miles of the way to show me the track. I then sent him back, and said I could manage myself. When he was some hours gone, I made up my mind that Maxwells bullock had been most likely taken to a place belonging to a relation of the overseers, who had leased a small farm at Newbriggan. Accordingly, we turned back, and made for Two Mile Creek. Next day (Sunday) we struck out for the Bell River, and hit by accident the right crossing. Strange to say, we met the identical overseer and stockman riding two fine horses of Maxwells. We were all well over the river, when this discovery was made. Directly the others saw us they bolted. I picked out one, and sang out to my man to follow the other. The chase continued for several miles. I kept my man well in view, though he disappeared occasionally when the country got rough. He raced straight to the suspected mans hut, and before I got there he was gone again. I let him go, as I was now convinced that the bullock had been taken there. My only difficulty would be to get tangible evidence to prove it. My mate turned up later, outpaced altogether by the other man. I saw the owner of the place and a lot of young people about, and said to the former, Theres been a bullock stolen from Mr. Maxwell's; I want to know if you have any beef in the house? He replied, Oh, no! We have not got a bit. I said, Have I permission to search, and he said I was quite welcome. After I had looked about and found nothing, he said, Look here, Sergeant, to prove to you that we have no beef, and that you are only losing your time, Ill show you something. He took a pair of tongs, and, plunging them into a pot that was boiling on the fire, he lifted out a fowl, and said, If we had beef that rooster would not have been killed. This seemed feasible, but he had protested rather too much to satisfy me, so I went on searching till nightfall. We then went away and camped, coming back on the following morning (Monday), when we renewed the search with additional men I had sent for. On Tuesday forenoon I went into a fowl-house that stood in the middle of the yard, for one of the perches to probe the water-hole.

I was surprised to find that the floor seemed hollow, though it was covered with three or four inches of earth. I cleared this away, and found bark slabs underneath. On lifting them up I discovered a small cellar, and in it two casks of beef, newly salted, in addition a bag full of fresh beef. I called the man and showed it to him. I said to him What account can you give of this. He professed astonishment, and knew nothing about it. I said, Ill arrest you for having this quantity of beef in your possession without being able to satisfactorily account for it. That, however, was a matter for summary jurisdiction, and I was determined to sheet the more serious charge home to him. We spent another three days searching for the hides and head, and as a last resource determined to dig over a small piece of land prepared for cultivation. It was ploughed and harrowed ready to plant, and about two acres in extent. Soon after making a start I noticed a stump, recently grubbed, lying on the surface, at the spot where it was taken from, while a number of other stumps were still left in the ground. This I thought suspicious, and looked in the spot where it came out of the ground. There we discovered the head and hide in an excellent state of preservation. It was a black working bullock, with remarkable horns, and a very distinct brand, and therefore there was no difficulty in identifying either the head or hide. The man I had charged was committed for trial, but old Maxwell would have the trial at Wellington to suit his convenience. I wanted him to go to Bathurst, as I felt sure a jury would never convict him.

A DEFENCE BY DALLEY.

Well, Mr. Maxwell had his way, and our friend was sent to Wellington. He took a copy of the depositions to a lawyer, Mr. MacLaughlin, in Orange. The latter specially retained W.B. Dailey for the case at a fee of one hundred guineas. In due course, Mr. Dailey and Mr. MacLaughlin came to Wellington, a few days before the Quarter Sessions commenced. Judge Josephson was on the Western Circuit then, and Mr. Isaacs, the father of the present Stipendiary Magistrate, was Crown Prosecutor. Dailey went round the different hotels and made many friends. When the case came on Dailey gave Maxwell such a dressing down as he had never got in his life. You can imagine how the old man, who had been such a martinet all his life, writhed under the fire of the stiff cross-examination, especially when his cherished autocracy and eccentricity were openly ridiculed. When Dailey came to me he said, Did you remember meeting two of Mr. Maxwells men that Sunday morning on the Bell River? I said, Yes. And the next thing that occurred was that you and they raced as hard as your horses could carry you to this place. Yes, I said. Where you made all these discoveries ? I said Yes, and wanted to explain, but he would not allow it. When he came to his address to the jury he-laughingly enlarged on the peculiarities of old Maxwell, and asked them not to believe a single word that I had said, and that it was as clear as daylight that I had arranged with Maxwells men to plant the head and hide. The result was that the accused man was triumphantly acquitted. A day or so after poor old Maxwell sent for me, and told me he was going to Sydney. I have still got a few friends left, he said. Deas Thompson, Macintosh, and Brown of Bowenfels. Ill use all my influence, and never rest till I silence Dailey and MacLaughlin for ever.' Poor old fellow, he only succeeded in silencing himself, for he died soon after, and I think the case really broke his heart.

Old times Magazine. Vol. 1 No. 2 (May 1903)

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Eureka Stockade
by Harry Watt
Publication date 1949
Topics Harry Watt, Massacre Hill, drama, history, Ealing Studios, Rarities Collection
Language English
In 1854, Australian gold rush miners struggle for their rights against an oppressive government.
Addeddate 2021-06-21 14:17:09 Identifier eureka-stockade

To download movie,

https://archive.org/download/eureka-stockade/Eureka Stockade.m4v
 

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