A WELSHER'S DEATH.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 17, Issue 59, 27 July 1906, Page 5

A WELSHER'S DEATH.

A TERRIBLE SCENE. The murder of the “ welshev ” Donald McLeod took place ou the flat at Fiemington on the I4th inst., after the race for the Steeplechase. McLeod.had been laying the odds and is said to have tried to evade payment of debts made on the Steeplechase, whereupon an infuriated mob kicked him to death. Two persons are under arrest. Australian newspapers show that McLeod’s plan was to lay all bets he could at longer odds than other bookmakers were offering. Then when those who had backed winners i presented their tickets McLeod would return them the amounts they had actually paid to him, with a promise of settlement at some future date. Needless to say, he never kept his promise. His profit consisted in all money that was laid on the rest of the field, and his clients rarely made more than shilling bets. He and a man named Frank Ritchie drove to the course, and McLeod took up a stand on a box, from which ho loudly called the odds on the Grand National Steeplechase. He went out with the intention of betting only on that race, but there was a strong run on Lady Doris for the first race, and McLeod, thinking probably she would not win, was unable to resist the offers of the crowd to bet with him. He made 06Y twenty bets about Lady Doris, and stood to lose £4 15s if she won. He did not bet on any other horse, and when Lady Doris won he was unable to pay, and had to return the money, with the usual promise to settle on Monday. On the second race, too, he laid £4. 10s to £.l 10s about the favourite in shillings. Again the favourite won, and again McLeod “ balanced ” his clients. He went on betting on the Steeplechase. Altogether he made 34 bets, and received 475. Seven bets were made on Decoration, for which he would have had to pay out £8 10s, and he only had £2 7s in his bag. Decoration won, and seven people who had backed him presented their tickets. When the race was over McLeod said he could not pay. Somebody yelled, “ Kick the to death ” —and the rest of the horrible business is thus told by the Age\ — Excited crowds are common at Fiemington, and as a rule little notice is taken of them, but it soon became apparent that this howling, frantic, cursing mob that surged across the flat in the wake of a man running with despair depicted on his face was a mob that meant mischief. As the hunted man ran, the crowd tearing after him grew till thousands joined in the hunt. The “ welsher ” was a big, heavy fellow, red faced and plainly scant of breath, and as he ran he ducked and dodged through the throng that sought to detain him and struck him as he passed. Knocked down once, the foremost ranks of his pursuers reached him, and the sounds from the pack that swarmed over him were horribly wolf-like in their viciopsness. He was up again, and the burly form forced its way out from the crowd, and, panting and staggering, stumbled on to the fence close to the outer carriage paddock. Leaning against it, the man faced his pursuers and appealed for mercy. “I can’t pay you, for I haven’t the money,’’ he said. “ Give me a chance, boys!” A rain of blows was the answer, and cries of “ Kill him!” “ Deal it out to him!” were raised. One man, who is said to have invested the sum of Is with the defaulter, but whose ferocity was out of all proportion to the amount of his paltry loss, climbed over the fence, and, dealing the defenceless man a terrific blow on the back of the neck, felled him to the ground amid the merciless feet of his mad and cowardly assailants. Here he was kicked and beaten while the crowd fought over him like dogs. The end soon came. Insensibility relieved him, and death mercifully followed quickly. The horror of the whole dreadful incident was relieved by two or three rays of true humanity and courage supplied by the pluck and love of fair play of several young men, two of them well-known boxers, who risked their lives at the hands of the ungovernable crowd to save the life of the man who, by want of moral principle, had caused the uprising that had ended in his dreadful death. They floored men right and left, but scores were kicking at the doomed wretch on the ground, who had no hope of succor. When the Police forced their way into the crowd the man was dead, and nothing remained but to carry his corpse to the casualty room.