18 February 1937

LOST EL DORADO IN QUEENSLAND

Assay Showed Eighty Four Ounces To The Ton

Legends of lost goldfields exist in most parts of the world, where mining has been carried on, but nowhere are they so numerous or persistent as in outback Australia. The chief of them, of course, is the story of Las letter's Lost Reef, for which an expedition has been searching within the past few weeks. That fact, and the stories that have recently appeared in 'The Chronicle' regarding lost goldfields in South Australia, recalled to my mind the lost Carandotta gold find in Queensland.

In the latter years of last century, Mr. Suter, of Hughenden, Queensland, equipped a prospector to search for gold in the Cloncurry district of that State — a proved gold bearing area. After he had received a few letters from the man reporting progress, all correspondence suddenly ceased, and eventually Mr. Suter gave up all hope of hearing from him again.

However, one day, a parcel of stone from Carandotta station, on the Georgina River, arrived from the prospector. Accompanying it was a note stating that he was forwarding some stone, and that although it looked good, he did not think it could be, be cause there was so much of it about.

There was no assayer in Hughenden at the time, consequently it had to go to Charters Towers, a distance of 154 miles. Mr. Bradshaw did the assaying, and the surprise and pleasure of Mr. Suter can be imagined when he received a telegram saying that the stone assayed eight-four ounces to the ton. Following the result of this assay Mr. Bradshaw was asked by telegram to proceed to Hughenden immediately, which he did post haste. From Hughenden to Carandatta Station is 424 miles, and as all travelling in those days was by horses, some time elapsed before they reached the station.

Here they found that, Fate had in deed dealt them a cruel blow, as during the time spent in reaching there, the prospector had died, leaving no word of any sort as to where he had found the stone. He had arrived at the station one night, just before a very heavy rainstorm, consequently there were no tracks next day to denote the direction he had come from. The unlucky speculators spent some time scouting around and camping out, but eventually had to give it up as a bad job.

There is an extensive belt of mineral country on Smoky Creek, about 40 miles south-east of Carandotta Station, and the popular idea is that the lost gold find is somewhere in that locality. However, although there have been many prospecting parties organised from different centres to search that area, the lost find still remains a mystery.

Mr. Frank Scanlon has been prospecting off and on in that locality for over twelve years now, at times working on wages for the station to keep his tucker bags filled. In 1928 a car containing Messrs. Ted Doherty (since deceased), of Duchess, and Jack Lonergan, of Malbon (but now of Giru) stole out of Duchess in the small hours of the morning, in response to a call from Scanlon, but though he had got on to gold, it soon chopped out.

The writer was interested in a syndicate that was organised in Mount Isa in 1929 to go over this area, but although three months were spent in different places, no gold in any payable quantity was found. Along with many others who have been in that country, I am of the opinion that the find has been buried by shifting sand, for which that part of the country is noted, and that if it is ever located, it will be found closer to the stock route on the Georgina River, between Carandotta and Roxborough stations. To the left of the road, about fifteen miles from Carandotta on this track, there is a belt of mineral country partly buried by sand, and there is also some mineral country be tween Mungeribah station and the river. In the writer's opinion too much time has been spent by prospectors in the Smoky Creek area and not enough in the two places just mentioned. If the locality of the lost find is in this part of the country it is possibly hidden under the sand, and the only possibility of it ever being found will be by another big storm or series of storms, shifting the sand elsewhere. This is a lot to expect, but miracles sometimes happen.

In 1930 a half-caste named Jack Wilde came in to the railhead at Dajarra with word that he had discovered a very old camp alongside a gold snow in country max, as far as the old hands knew, no one had ever prospected before. A party went out to investigate his report, but although there were traces of gold in the quartz, it was not in payable quantities.

In the same year another mild rush was caused at Smoky Creek by some one bringing in samples of what was though to be sheelite, and claims were pegged out for miles around. However, on being assayed, it turned out to be fluorspar, and although there were a fair demand for this metal, freight charges were too great for it to be worked at a profit.

Some day this reef may be found. At any rate, there it is, waiting to raise some prospector or prospectors from penury to affluence by a stroke of the pick. — 'Mike o' Bader.'

Extractions Free

A dentist in a country town was in the habit of imbibing too freely, so his wife had a prohibition order made out against him. For a month or two 'Forceps' became a more sober, and prosperous citizen. Then little by little the gnawing for a drop assailed him, and he began to cast round for some means of satisfying his desire.

At last he had a brainwave. He went round to the blacksmith and propounded a scheme to him, to which he agreed. Every evening for some weeks he visited the dentist at his surgery. The small black bag he brought with him contained, in addition to its ostensible serviette in which his luncheon had been wrapped, the next day's supply of liquor for the dentist. Forceps used to take delivery, settle up expenses, and stand a round by way of commission on the transaction. The pair often yarned in the surgery for an hour or so.

Mrs. Forceps began to have her suspicions. The blacksmith was obviously receiving a great deal of attention for whatever was the matter with his teeth, since it involved an appointment every evening. On the other hand, when she came to go through case-book, the blacksmith did not seem to be entered anywhere. Neither was his name amongst the list of recipients when bills were being made out at the end of each month. Then there was the inescapable fact that Forceps seemed to be defying the laws of nature by spending each day in a state of alcoholism at a time when no supplies were available through visible channels.

Mrs. Forceps put two and two together and decided to stage a raid. She unexpectedly visited the surgery, arriving at the stage of treatment where the blacksmith was sitting in the operating chair, holding a glass in his hand, and her husband was apparently putting a bottle of disinfectant into his cabinet. Forceps rose nobly to the occasion, although the blacksmith was startled and almost gave the game away.

"Just rinse your mouth out two or three times with that,'' advised Forceps in his best professional tone, "and get rid of it in the spittoon." The blacksmith did so. Meantime, Forceps rummaged amongst the trays in his cabinet and secured some gear.

"Open your mouth and show me the one you say is still aching," came his next request. The blacksmith, impressed by the ready wit which had covered up the presence of bottle and glass, played up nobly to the lead of his quicker witted friend. He knew that everything was in order, as only a reflecting mirror and probe were visible in Forceps's hand. The smith indicated one of his back lower teeth, pulled a face of contorted agony and mumbled. "It's that one there that's giving me all the trouble. Didn't sleep all last night with the pain!"

Forceps eyed the offending tooth with a glare that did credit to his impersonation of his professional self, seized a pair of forceps, and had the tooth out before the blacksmith realised what was happening. Satisfied that everything was really in order. Mrs. Forceps breathed a sigh of relief and left.

As soon as she had gone, the black smith turned on the dentist and told him just what he thought of him, but the latter silenced him with a gesture. "Be reasonable, you goat," he admonished. "You know as well as I do that the wife is too fly to put much over, if I hadn't ripped that tooth out she'd have woken up to the whole stunt, and then where would we have been?"— 'Alpha.'

The Penalty Of Fame

An old gentleman who came to stay at an hotel in a country town presented a very venerable appearance with his long white hair and dignified manner. He established confidence very quickly, for he did not seem to deny himself much, and whatever he wanted was bought on a basis that astonished the local storekeepers — spot cash.

The publican also spoke well of him. His wife was considerably younger, exceptionally well dressed, and possessed of a charming manner. The car they drove was the latest model, while the woman's jewels were reputed to be worth hundreds of pounds. The old gentleman had hobby, it seemed ; moreover a hobby where time was of little consequence to him.

An old pioneer in another State himself, it had been his ambition, ever since he had retired to write up the lives of those who, like himself, had blazed the trail in their districts. He had travelled hundreds of miles gleaning information, and had interviewed many leading citizens to obtain it. He was not certain just what the title of the book was to be, and was open to suggestions from anyone who was likely to figure in it. He was going to pub lish the result of his researches in five morocco-bound volumes.

He knew that the work would not be a best seller, but he was going for quality and durability for the benefit of a limited number of subscribers, who would contribute five guineas each for their volumes. Even then, the thing was a hobby, for he was bound to lose money on the limited edition. But he did not mind that so long as he could record the deeds of the pioneers before they died and the story of their struggles and ultimate success died with them.

The pioneers of the district listened with interest and gratified vanity. They felt that if this man, one of themselves, could devote his time and money to the project, they at least could be of a little material assistance. Not only did information flow freely, but subscriptions to the book came readily enough; and those who were to figure in it made substantial donations in addition.

Unfortunately the author developed a severe heart attack as he was reaching the climax of his labors. His sorrowing wife was compelled to have him removed to Adelaide for treatment in an expensive private hospital. For a time many anxious enquiries concerning his health were made, but soon interest in his welfare began to fade.

A man who happened to know him arrived at the town a few weeks later, and interest momentarily revived. He was told the whole sad story. "So the old coot is still working the heart stunt!" chuckled the newcomer. "We thought he had pegged out ten years ago when he made that get away. Hope you like the book when you get it!"

A lot of people found their interest in the old gentleman's health suddenly reviving, and the pioneer who had made the biggest donation took a special run down to the city to look him up. There was no trace of the venerable old gentleman, and even the hospital where he was confined to bed had a remarkable peculiarity. It was situated on a vacant block of land !— 'Greenhide.'

In The Midst Of Plenty

We were droving a large mob of cattle overland, when the boss became alarmed at reports of long dry stages ahead. He decided to wait for rain, and secured agistment where we were. Unfortunately, it was impossible to find feed for several thousand cattle in neighboring paddocks, so the beasts had to be split up into sections. About five hundred steers were taken up to the head of a neighboring stream, some twenty miles distant, over a semi-made road which the supply buggy had difficulty in traversing each week, owing to numerous and dangerous fords.

Just before the weekly trip, heavy rain fell on one occasion, and the cook turned back the first time he tried to cross the river, as the water swept in over the tray of his vehicle and threatened to wash it away. The boss became alarmed, as he knew that the two detached drovers had very little in the way of spare rations. Several times attempts were made by mates on horseback to get through with supplies, but all proved unsuccessful.

Three weeks passed before it was possible to set through. The boss was the first man through. He found the cattle quite intact, as well as the settler's hut in which the two drovers had been camping, but of the men themselves there was no sign, although optimism was encouraged by the fact that their horses and saddles had also gone. One or two of us went out looking for them, or for their bodies, while the boss remained at the hut and lit a fire with plenty of wet green leaves on it, to see if the smoke would attract the wanderers back.

Towards evening two horsemen were seen making their way down a ridge, presently revealing themselves as the missing men. They unsaddled, after we had greeted them, and ate a solid meal of junk and damper, washed down by a quart apiece of black tea, before they gave any explanation of how they had existed. It appeared that their food had run out very quickly after the river had come down, and they had set out foraging. One of them had discovered an abandoned hut and orchard some miles away, in which a few of the trees were still bearing fruit. The pair moved over and took up residence in the hut. Their staple diet for the whole three weeks had consisted of stewed peaches, which they boiled up in a kerosene tin without any sugar, and ate whatever their stomachs drove them to it. They declared that never, as long as they lived, would they regard the offer of a peach, raw or cooked, as anything but a hostile act.

At this stage the boss chipped in:— 'But, hang it all,' he objected, 'you had a shot-gun with you, and the country is teaming with rabbits!' The instincts of the bushmen came to the fore. 'Yes, boss,' admitted one of the drovers; 'but what was the good of a lot of rabbits, when there was nothing to eat?'— 'Alpha.'

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1937, February 18). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 17. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92466855