5 March 1936

Bushranger's Hidden Booty That Has Never Been Found

Fact and legend are often so closely interwoven that it is difficult to decide which is which. 

It is, however, a sound rule to treat everything legendary as being more or less fictitious; but the legend that surrounds the cache in the Watson Hills part of the Black Ranges is interesting because of several undoubted facts that are definitely associated with it. 

A year or so before the discovery of gold in Victoria a bushranger named Jack Leach started operations in New South Wales, and it is thought that he turned up in the Ballarat district soon after the rush to that field took place. 

Just how long he remained there can not be stated, but it is reported that Inspector Tolmer was somewhat apprehensive of the safety of the gold he escorted from the Ballarat fields to the banks in South Australia, and it is more than likely that Leach was the cause of some of that apprehension. 

At the point where he enters this story Leach must have previously indulged in a series of small hold-ups, or one or two grand coups, because he is reported to have in his possession at the time gold dust or nuggets, probably the latter, to the value of five thousand pounds. 

Whether he really had that amount of gold it is now impossible to say, but there are good grounds for the belief that at that time Leach did possess a large quantity of gold, and was also being sought for by the police in another State. 

Just where he obtained the gold is obscure, and whether he was really wanted by the police to account for it, or whether he was being pursued by an imaginary fear, it is difficult to decide, but he acted like a hunted man. 

The legend gives us to understand that the first intimation that the pioneer settlers had of the presence of Leach in their midst was the finding of a dead Aborigine hanging by the neck from a tree in the Watson Hills. Around the finding of this murdered native, a genuine fact from all accounts, this story is based, and it has been built up from subsequent events.

The dead black was duly buried, and some of the old pioneers afterwards claimed that they knew the exact burial place. They also stated that Leach himself had begged food from them a few days after the event, and had enquired after the whereabouts of an Aborigine. When he was informed of the dead one in the Watson Hills, Leach is reported to have admitted that he had hung him, and was seeking his companion who had stolen his horses. Leach was on foot at the time. 

Settlement was very scattered at that time, and means of communication were slow and irregular, consequently Leach was almost forgotten when some time later the news spread that the companion of the dead native had been found. The report that Leach had admitted having hung an Aborigine caused very little comment among the settlers at the time, so little were the interests of the native studied. In fact, some of the settlers who figure in this story advocated hanging the second native, when the news of his whereabouts became known, simply on the word of a perfect stranger. 

Horse stealing was, of course, one of the most outrageous crimes that could be committed in those days. However, the life of this particular Aborigine was saved by the timely intervention of a German travelling doctor who understood the native's dialect well. From him the doctor learnt some very startling facts. 

It appeared from the native's story that Leach had made a lonely trek from the eastern station, and had picked these two blacks up from near the Murray to guide him across country to the Black Ranges. When the ranges were sighted some 50 or more miles away, Leach seems to have known his way and to have been familiar with the country that lay ahead of him. 

Several nights later he camped in the foothills in company with the two blacks, and, according to the story of the Aborigine, Leach hit his companion over the head with a heavy stick as they sat around the fire towards evening, and also attempted to treat him likewise; but he saw the blow coming and fled into the dense scrub with a poorly aimed bullet flying after him. 

From the shelter of the scrub he saw Leach hang the unconscious black by the neck, and then calmly go to sleep after reloading his gun and placing it within easy reach. It may appear strange that the escaped native made no attempt to seek revenge on the sleeping outlaw, but as a rule [sic] blacks are cowards and do not attack unless in fair numbers. 

The black stated that next morning Leach left the camp well armed and walked into the hills with two small canvas bags lashed together hanging over his shoulder. The black did not attempt to follow Leach, but walked southwards to the camp of a tribe which he knew. It is quite likely that he may have endeavored to secure assistance in order to return and avenge himself on the outlaw. 

Some days after Leach had begged from the settlers, the black did likewise on his return journey northwards. It was subsequently proved that some one had stolen Leach's horse while he was away in the hills on the morning following the hanging of the black, the culprit being a settler in the neighborhood who afterwards bred some fine horses from them. 

As the German doctor was the only person able to talk to the black in his own language, he naturally questioned him closely regarding the canvas bags and Leach's lonely journey into the hills. He also persuaded the black to guide him through the country to the Watson Hills, and endeavor to follow the outlaw's tracks. The native was well paid in advance of the trip, and when he had led the doctor into the dense ranges he left him stranded there. 

By the time the doctor had found his way back to the settlement he was well nigh exhausted, and was thirsting for the blood of the cunning black. From the doctor's lips the whole truth of the conversation with the black gradually came to light, and quite a party searched the Watson Hills for some days after his unfortunate experience. 

But no results or dues that may have led to the discovery of the mysterious cache were ever obtained though in later years a party came across a tree butt with numbers in it far up in the densest part of the hills. There is probably some truth in this legend, which has been built up from these few facts, because there appears to be no other tangible reason for Leach's actions in making the hazardous trek across country into the Watson Hills and resorting the to the murder of his native guide. 

Proof that the man in question was Leach seems to we found in the fact that the under flap of a saddle found on one of the stolen horses had the name John H. Leach neatly cut in it. It is, of course, possible that someone else may have stolen the outlaw's horses and the saddle in order to leave the eastern States in a hurry, and the man thought to have been Leach may hot have been him at all; but such an assumption would rob the story of all its interest. 

Many romantic tales have centred round this episode, and it is difficult at times to decide what is fact and what is legend; but there were several pioneers still alive a few years years ago who stated that they could identify the exact spot at which Leach had camped, and a few who recollected having seen the saddle with the outlaw's name on it; but never in recent years have any further definite or conclusive facts come to light by which the cache might be located. 

Today such a quantity of gold would be of considerable value, but the possibility of ever finding it seems to be very remote. There have been several attempts to do so but, in the absence of any definite clues to work on, they have been half-hearted and doomed to failure. 

One version of the hanging of the black states that he was a black tracker employed by the police, but this could hardly have been the case, otherwise greatest interest would have been taken in the event at the time of its occurrence. 

The whole story rests on the doctor's report of his conversation with Leach's guide; and if either of them indulged in fabrication it has done no great harm, and at the same time has given rise to a legend that, though lacking conclusive substantiation, is nevertheless interesting and unique.— 'Tarantalle.'

Telephone Indiscretions Are Dangerous 

Few South Australian politicians have proved the subject of so many piquant anecdotes as the Rt. Hon. Charles Cameron Kingston, who among other things challenged a fellow legislator to a duel and figured in two public horse-whippings. 

In 1897, when a Federal Constitution for the Australian colonies was under consideration, Kingston went to Melbourne to attend the meetings of a Constitutional Committee. 

Among the delegates was Sir George Turner, who, becoming impatient one night of the long-winded proceedings, left the meeting and returned to his hotel to work at official papers with his private secretary. 

By two o'clock in the morning, Sir George was ready for bed, but he was not too sleepy to feel interested in the doings of the Constitutional Committee, and, thinking that Kingston might not yet have retired for the night, he decided to telephone to him for information. A servant answered the call. 'This is Sir George Turner speaking,' said the Victorian Premier, 'and I should like to speak to Mr. Kingston —that is, if he has not yet gone to bed.' 

The girl either did not hear the latter part of the sentence, or else was overawed to find herself in conversation with so great a man, for she hurried off to get the unfortunate Kingston out of bed. 

A few moments later, in pyjamas and dressing gown, Kingston began to give Turner a detailed account of all that had taken place in committee, supplying the figures of divisions and speaking freely of the quarrels of the members. Irritated at being awakened at such an hour, he gave vent to his feelings by indulging to the full his gift for invective and, in the vigorous manner for which he was famous, proceeded to scorch with blazing words those committeemen whose conduct had incurred his displeasure. 

Next morning he upbraided Turner for disturbing him in the middle of the night in order to obtain information for which he might surely have waited a few hours. Sir George, how ever, being in the mood for a joke, assumed an air of amazement and asked, 'What on earth are you talking about? Do you mean to say that I rang you up last night?' 

'Well,' gasped Kingston, 'didn't you do so?' 'Why should I?' said Turner. 'Then,' roared the unhappy Kingston, 'I have been fooled by one of those infernal reporters, for somebody rang me and got out of me everything that took place at the meeting. Of course I knew it was not your voice, but I thought it was that of your secretary.' 

Turner looked grave, and other delegates who were admitted to the joke took a mischievous delight in pointing out to Kingston the impropriety of discussing confidential matters on the telephone. 

For some days the wretched victim remained in ignorance of the facts and lived in dread of seeing in the political columns of a Melbourne newspaper some of the spicy indiscretions which, he had good reason for imagining, had been eagerly taken down in shorthand by a grinning reporter.— Jeepy. 

A Rapid Descent 

A few years ago a driver working at a quarry in the Adelaide hills had a remarkable escape from death. On the morning of the accident, to add to the irony of it, the owner of the quarry had been finding fault with the draymen because of their slowness in driving down the hill. 

This particular driver had just completed loading his dray, when a gust of wind startled the horse, with the result that he backed dray and driver down into the quarry, a fall of about 100 feet. 

His workmates rushed down into the quarry expecting to find him smashed to pieces, but were surprised to learn that he had escaped with a few bruises. The dray had fallen on a load of sand, which was lying at the bottom of the quarry. 

Later the owner of the quarry heard of the crash, and, white-faced came upon the scene. 'Are you all right, Tim?' he asked. 

'Yes, Boss,' replied the driver, 'but are you satisfied with the pace I came down the hill that time?' — J.R.