s resulting from my
promotion to engine-driver--for now the Reward Claim boasted a small
crushing plant--and Spring came, and with it in November the disastrous
rush to "Siberia." This name, like most others on the goldfields, may be
traced to the wit of some disappointed digger.

The rush was a failure or "frost," and so great a one that "Siberia" was
the only word adequately to express the chagrin of the men who hoped so
much from its discovery. Being one of these myself, I can cordially
endorse the appropriateness of the name. What a motley crowd of eager
faces throngs the streets and camp on the first news of a new rush--every
one anxious to be off and be the first to make his fortune--every man
questioning his neighbour, who knows no more than himself, about distances
and direction, where the nearest water may be, and all manner of similar
queries.

Once clear of the town, what a strange collection of baggage animals,
horses, camels, and donkeys! What a mass of carts, drays, buggies,
wheelbarrows, handbarrows, and many queer makeshifts for carrying
goods--the strangest of all a large barrel set on an axle, and dragged or
shoved by means of two long handles, the proud possessor's belongings
turning round and round inside until they must surely be churned into a
most confusing jumble. Then we see the "Swagman" with his load on his
back, perhaps fifty pounds of provisions rolled up in his blankets, with a
pick and shovel strapped on them, and in either hand a gallon bag of
water. No light work this with the thermometer standing at 100 degrees in
the shade, and the track inches deep in fine, powdery dust; and yet men
start off with a light heart, with perhaps, a two hundred mile journey
before them, replenishing their bundles as they pass through camps on
their road.

"Siberia" was said to be seventy miles of a dry stage, and yet off we all
started, as happy as kings at the chance of mending our fortunes.

Poor Crossman (since dead), McCulloch, and I were mates, and we were well
off, for we had not only "Little Carnegie," and who, like his master, had
been earning his living at Bayley's, but a camel, "Bungo" by name, kindly
lent by Gordon Lyon. Thus we were able to carry water as well as
provisions, and helped to relieve the sufferings of many a poor wretch who
had only his feet to serve him.

The story of Siberia may be soon told. Hundreds "rushed" over this dry
stage, at the end of which a small and doubtful w