RIGHT OIL—SOMETIMES

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1929, Page 9 (Supplement)

RIGHT OIL—SOMETIMES

THE FAVOURITE BEATEN.

(By

Moturoa.)

The Bear was in low water and had to get money somehow. He was what is known in New Zealand as a “guesser,” though the Australian term, ,l urger,” fitted him better. As one who lived on the game he had form at his finger-tips and could generally put a •'client” on to a winner or two in any day’s racing. But when things looked hard he was just as likely to go the other way, and Whatever way he went he was generally the winner.

It was in April, 1900, that the following incident happened, and (for once) the Bear found himself in a tight corner. The track was very heavy and winners had been hard to pick. He had picked up a ‘pigeon” who had £3O, and he wanted that £3O more than he wanted money in his life before. The next race was the Eighth Challenge Stakes and there were five runners, including Mr. G. G. Stead’s champion, Screwgun The Yaldhurst crack had an unbeaten record that season and the race was voted a gift for him. But a thirtyshilling dividend did not appeal to our friend, so he hatched a plot and promptly proceeded to put it into action. "They are pulling Screwgun up,” he whispered to thd new chum, “and backing Dan O’Brien’s horse, Military.” The mug looked incredulous. "Garn,” he said, “you cant kid me that tale. Stead never runs a stoomer.” “I got it right from Stead himself this morning,” said the Bear. “That’s a nice one,” replied the mug, "why, you don’t even know Stead to speak to!” “Get that out of your head,” persisted our friend, "Stead and I are personal friends, and he would never put me crook.” While they were talking Mr. G. G. Stead strbllcd past. “There he is,” said the mug, pointing to New Zealand’s most prominent sportsman, “go and ask him again.” Thus challenged the Bear was nonplussed, but only- for a moment. Then he replied briskly, “Right! I’ll have a word with him,” and rushed after the portly gentleman, who by this time was twenty yards away. Placing himself between the mug and the owner the Bear said, “Excuse me, Mr. Stead, but could you tell me the right time?” “Yes; certainly,” was the prompt reply, and he consulted his gold chronometer and gave the asked for information. The Bear hurried back to his newlymade acquaintance and said. "Yes; he. says be on Military. Give me the money, quickly, I’ll get it on with the ‘books’ so as not to spoil the dividend. It will pay a hatful.” The notes were handed over and the Bear hurried away, returning shortly to report that everything was “set.” The tote closed a moment afterwards with a poor total of just under 800 tickets, of which Screwgun carried over 500, while Military, with a little less than 50, was the outsider of the quintette.- The race need not be described. Screwgun failed utterly in the heavy going and Military strolled homo an easy winner from Cannie Chiel, the favourite being third and Benzoin and Field aosc “down the course.”'

The mug threw his hat in the air when a dividend of over £l6 was hoisted and embraced the Bear, who, as may be imagined, was looking anything but elated at the result. However, he was never beaten and joined in the cheering as the winner was led back to scale. “What about collecting?” asked the mug. “Yes, I’ll attended to that in a minute,” replied the' Bear, “but we will 3ee what is running in the next race and 3ee if we can’f play it up to a couple of thousand. Our luck’s in, and we ought to elean up a fortune to-day, for I know a coiyile of stone morals, if they’re loose.” At all eyents they los‘ on the next race and again and again, until the mug had lost his “roll,” the Bear making many trips to his imaginary bookie "outside in the trees” before the deed was accomplished. Chatting to a pal that evening the Bear admitted that it was the hardest earned thirty quid he ever got, and he never had such a set-back as when the mug made him accost the King of Sports in cold blood —unless it was when he saw the despised Military defeat the champion Scre'”gun.