FROM CANDLE TO FORT GIBBON 395 



waste, for which fathers and brothers, husbands and sweethearts, 

 leave their nearest and dearest, to play for stakes in the greatest 

 gamble in the world. And many, only too many, flocked 

 into this land of promise, which perhaps had more disappoint- 

 ments in store than any other place in the world. They all 

 hoped to be one of the elect, but they all knew the disappoint- 

 ment lurking behind the promise of this merciless country, 

 only they refused to see it, hoping against hope that fortune 

 might turn. 



Only the fittest survived in this struggle for gold ; many left 

 the country, broken-spirited and possibly crippled for life, after 

 losing all they had. Others never left it, but bleached skeletons 

 along the trail tell a tale of insurmountable hardship, of broken 

 hopes and wasted lives. Others again, the strong and the 

 enthusiastic, catch the fever of the goldrield, the irresistible 

 desire for gold-hunting. They go to the outskirts of the 

 country, dig holes wherever they find a chance of doing so, 

 meet with disappointment after disappointment, but neverthe- 

 less they go on hoping, and each time a new hole is made they 

 feel certain that at last they have found gold and that luck has 

 turned. But while they dig and break out the frozen soil with 

 almost superhuman strength and energy, the hope gets fainter 

 and fainter until the bare bedrock is reached, and it disappears 

 altogether. The hard labour of months has been fruitless, the 

 starving and freezing have met with no reward, and no wonder 

 that they despair. But only for a few hours ; then they start 

 again, hoping that next time they will be successful, feeling sure 

 that their luck some some day must change, that some day they 

 must find gold, that some day the toil will cease and luxury 

 take its place. And thus they continue year after year, digging 

 hole upon hole as eager and undaunted as before. 



Oh ! beautiful yellow metal, the lustre of which tempts so 

 many to follow you, the modern Fortuna, rolling on her ball, 

 rolling to the north, through forests and over plains, over rivers 

 and mountains, luring your followers on and on. And in your 

 wake an army of men and women, people whom nothing can 

 subdue and nothing daunt, stagger along until they fall in their 

 tracks and are left behind, to join the many dead and dying 

 who mark your trail across the hitherto untrodden parts of 

 the world. 



