The next day Ellison's dog was washed away by the river, landing on a ledge a bit down stream. When his master went to rescue him, there was gold all around, even on the dog's back. Ellison had struck it rich, that day he and his partners had panned 300 ounces from the river.
But like all canny miners he worked his claim out, and then retired to civilisation- almost the same as Read. Both miners had, unlike some, their fill of mining and chasing after gold- at least for a while.But plenty of others came in his wake, four thousand in the months following that first find. And like mines all over the world, a temporary town sprung up to service the miners; stores to sell them supplies, a police station to keep an eye on them, a court house to take care of them when they erred, and of course pubs- lots and lots of pubs. But it was a tough land to make a living from, the river was prone to flood, drowning miners, or crushing them beneath avalanches of mud. And then there was the scurvy, the dysentery, caused by terrible diets, and the above all the weather. Miners often worked in the snow. The river was so dangerous, that even getting supplies into the area was perilous, horses and mules often had to slide down mud tracks.
But like all gold rushes that came before and after, there was a limit to what the earth could be persuaded to give up. Soon the easy money had been made, and most moved on to other strikes- it had only taken a year. All that remained were the Chinese miners, who were usually only allowed to move in once the others did not want it. They perceived where others only threw up their hands, and through shear hard teamwork, often managed to make money in the area.
