GOLD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20420, 23 November 1929, Page 4 (Supplement)

GOLD.

By ALAN JOHN SAYERS, 9. Crown St.. Koyal Oak (Aco l!i). In 1861 gold was discovered in Otago, in 1864 on ttio West Coast, and later in tho North Island. Gold! The precious metal that ha!, swayed empires, the barrier that has altered the course of thousands—yes. even million of lives —the golden ore that, has broken moro hearts than anyone cares to tell, had been found in New Zealand. The story I have to tell is that of the discovery of gold in Wcstlund. It is a terrible story—a story of lawlessness, of ruthless men and respectdblo men, inspired by the mad lust for riches. But it is relieved by touches of humour, bitter humour for the most part, and hero and there by dashes of romancq. Nothing but that headlong lust could have urged thirty thousand men to tramp into Westlaiid in the course of a few months; nothing but the gold-fever could have caused them to have overcome such unbelievable difficulties. We see a party of four men leading several horses, and equipped with nothing but a sack of food and the clothes they stand in, and with the inevitable shovels slung across their backs, passing through unexplored country. The scenery is magnificent. They press onwards through vistas of enhancing beauty, across crystal streams bordered with verdant trees, oyer rushing river's, and past torrents leaping in one mighty cataract into the grim depths below. But these rough, unshaven meu have no eyes for the beauty about them. Their eyes are gleaming and fixed straight ahead The leader gives a harsh shout. They lift their thin faces. Ahead is _ their destination, tha end of their terrifying journey—the last final acme of their success. With faster tread and beating hearts they make their way down to the sloping, sandy banks of the stream. But there is no need to dig. Many smooth, glistening gold nuggets lie on those sandy banks. At last, all the gold being gathered and stuffed in the food-stack, they make their way to a cave, where they he down for the night. It is a little after midnight. One of the men rises, picks up the bag of gold from whero it lies on tho floor, and steals softly from the cavern. With the hag under his am he totters toward the horses. And then he hears a laugh. He swings round and sees one of his comrades standing at the mouth of the cave, pistol in hand, and laughing liko a madman. . " You cur! You treacherous cur,; he is saying. " Come back here, or I'll shoot you like the, dopj you are!" Without a word the thief turns to his left and bolts off into the gloom. Boom! Tho pistol speaks, tho man totters and falls on his knees. He rises and stumbles on, drawing a pistol as he goes. With a maniacal laugh the second man comes in pursuit... The former turns, drops behind a rock, and opens fire. And then lifted tiie curtain of the horrid treachery that had been planned for that night. The third man. awakened by the shots, rises, and, drawing a longbarrelled pistol from his pocket, goes out of the cave. Tho first two men are now loading and firing almost simultaneously. And high up the ledge is the third, watching tho combat; waiting to slay the winner when he has done the slaying. Tha two men are now firing faster. They'are evidently firing madly at each other. A cry rises on the night air. Then there is silence for a moment; A pistol speaks sgairi—for the last time. A terrible cry of anguish and despair shatters the silence, and a harsh laugh grates out. Then a man comes staggering lip the slope, blood pouring from a terrible wound in his chest. Death has stretched its hand over the grass beyond the cavern. Madly he rushes into tho cache and feverishly gathers up the sack_ of gold that he had taken from his victim. He hurries to the mouth and looks out into the greyness of the night. Even as he does so, a gigantic boulder, followed by numerous others, crashes down upon him. Instantly the very life is crushed from his maimed body. The whole cliff-face is moving slowly downward, while a man, pistol stili clutched in his hand, struggles vainly for his life on tho moving tons of rock and earth.

Faster, and still faster, it comes on, gathering moro stones and dirt at every yard. With a noise like thunder it crashes into tho river-basin, while smaller slips follow behind in the great dustclouds. Thus, the course of four lives are altered as the direction of that stream is shifted by the landslide. Three men and a boy have died through selfish greed. But so far my story has been one of darkness and despair. Many people found gold, and, braving tho lawless paths home, became rich beyond the dreams of avarice. In one year £2,000.000 worth of gold was removed from Westland! Suppose wo were to take a trip along tho West Coast to-day. We would seo deserted houses —yes, even deserted towns —long fallen into decay through want of repair. Theso were oncq the homes of the old prospectors. The romance of gold is gone for ever from tho beautiful west, leaving something which, although less profitable, is moro desirable. ,