Spinifex and Sand | Page 8

first remained perfectly still, with its lower eyelids

completely drawn over the eyes, giving it the appearance of being blind,
which indeed the black assured us that it was. . . ."
Most travellers cannot fail to have noticed how clay-pans recently filled
by rain, even after a prolonged drought, swarm with tadpoles and
full-grown frogs and numberless water insects, the presence of which
must only be explained by the ability of the frog to store his supply in
his own body, and the fact that the eggs of the insects require moisture
before they can hatch out.
Many a laugh we had round the camp-fire at night, and many are the
yarns that were spun. Few, however, were of sufficient interest to live
in my memory, and I fear that most of them would lose their points in
becoming fit for publication. "Gold," naturally, was the chief topic of
conversation, especially amongst the older diggers, who love to tell one
in detail how many ounces they got in one place and how many in
another, until one feels that surely they must be either millionaires or
liars. New rushes, and supposed new rushes, were eagerly discussed;
men were often passing and repassing our rock, looking for somebody
who was "on gold"--for the majority of prospectors seldom push out for
themselves, but prefer following up some man or party supposed to
have "struck it rich."
The rumours of a new find so long bandied about at length came true.
Billy Frost had found a thousand! two thousand!! three thousand
ounces!!!--who knew or cared?--on the margin of a large salt lake some
ninety miles north of Coolgardie. Frost has since told me that about
twelve ounces of gold was all he found, And, after all, there is not
much difference between twelve and three thousand--that is on a
mining field. Before long the solitude of our camp was disturbed by the
constant passing of travellers to and from this newly discovered
"Ninety Mile"--so named from its distance from Coolgardie.
As a fact, this mining camp (now known as the town of Goongarr) is
only sixty odd miles from the capital, measured by survey, but in early
days, distances were reckoned by rate of travel, and roads and tracks
twisted and turned in a most distressing manner, sometimes deviating
for water, but more often because the first maker of the track had been
riding along carelessly, every now and then turning sharp back to his
proper course. Subsequent horse or camel men, having only a vague
knowledge of the direction of their destination, would be bound to

follow the first tracks; after these would come light buggies,
spring-carts, drays, and heavy waggons, until finally a deeply rutted
and well-worn serpentine road through the forest or scrub was formed,
to be straightened in course of time, as observant travellers cut off
corners, and later by Government surveyors and road-makers.
Prospectors were gradually "poking out," gold being found in all
directions in greater or less degree; but it was not until June, 1893, that
any find was made of more than passing interest. Curiously, this great
goldfield of Hannan's (now called Kalgoorlie) was found by the veriest
chance. Patrick Hannan, like many others, had joined in a wild-goose
chase to locate a supposed rush at Mount Yule--a mountain the height
and importance of which may be judged from the fact that no one was
able to find it! On going out one morning to hunt up his horses, he
chanced on a nugget of gold. In the course of five years this little
nugget has transformed the silent bush into a populous town of 2,000
inhabitants, with its churches, clubs, hotels, and streets of offices and
shops, surrounded by rich mines, and reminded of the cause of its
existence by the ceaseless crashing of mills and stamps, grinding out
gold at the rate of nearly 80,000 oz. per mouth.
Arriving one Sunday morning from our camp at the "Twenty-five," I
was astonished to find Coolgardie almost deserted, not even the usual
"Sunday School" going on. Now I am sorry to disappoint my readers
who are not conversant with miners' slang, but they must not picture
rows of good little children sitting in the shade of the gum-trees, to
whom some kind-hearted digger is expounding the Scriptures. No
indeed! The miners' school is neither more nor less than a largely
attended game of pitch-and-toss, at which sometimes hundreds of
pounds in gold or notes change hands. I remember one old man who
had only one shilling between him and the grave, so he told me. He
could not decide whether to invest his last coin in a gallon of water or
in the "heading-school." He chose the latter and lost . . . subsequently I
saw him