Murder Will Out

A Gold Digger's Adventure

New York Star

In the year 1858 I was one of a party of six miners who were engaged in digging for the gold in the gully known by the euphonious title of Peg Leg, in her majesty’s colony of Victoria, a province of that third continent, Australia. Our “claim” was pretty well worked out and two of our men were out each day prospecting for new ground; but nothing payable could we strike, and we were getting tired of working for our food only, which was about all our claim had given us for several weeks, though it had paid well at first, and we were by no means “hard up.” One evening as we sat around our fire, smoking and talking of our homes, and of big “finds” of gold, one of the two who had been prospecting that day spoke up: “Come, boys, let’s get out o’ this. Peg Leg’s played out. I’m going to make a move for Black Jack’s to-morrow morning. Who says go?”

The proposition was duly discussed, and resulted in our striking our tent the next morning, shouldering our “swags” (the diggers’ term for any thing a man carried on his back), and all hands started across the country to Black Jack’s, under the guidance of the mover of the expedition and a compass. Nothing occurred on the tramp worth mentioning; and the second day after leaving Peg Leg, at about ten o’clock in the forenoon, we sat down to have a rest and a smoke.

We were quite near the workings on Black Jack’s, and had passed a number of “prospecting holes” within the last mile or two, but as yet had met with no parties at work, nor seen any indications of men having been actually engaged in working out gold.

“This is a likely looking place,” said one of our number; “let’s open a hole here somewhere.”