LONG AGO STORIES

Taranaki Daily News, 6 October 1934, Page 21 (Supplement)

LONG AGO STORIES

BUDDY RACES THE IRON HORSE. Buddy and his father were costermongers, and they owned a brightly painted little cart drawn by ten powerful dogs. They rambled through England together, sleeping uder hedges when it was fine, in inns when it was wet. They sold apples and vegetables, and sometimes they would buy a load of fresh fish, hurry to some shed, and by the next morning they would have a fine load of bloaters and dried haddock to dispose of. For the secret of salting fish belonged to the costers. The costers were sporting folk. They raced the coaches they met on the road, and Buddy longed to try his beloved dogs against an “iron horse.” “They say they run fifteen miles an hour,” remarked Buddy,' “but I’ve beat

the horses on the iron railroad before now, and I don’t see how an iron horse can run quicker than one with four legs.” “First throw an eye on the horse,” advised his father. “Don’t bother making bets till you see the iron horse.” They were jogging along by the new railway, watching the horses pulling the long line of trucks filled with coal, and somehow it didn’t seem fair play to Buddy. “Bet you a tanner I’ll reach the next tree befor you!” he shouted to the driver. “It’s about your last chance! They say the iron horses are coming.”

The driver looked at the ten strong dogs and shook his head. He was not going to risk upsetting that long string of trucks for sixpence. “Bless him—he’s afraid!” shouted Buddy. “I’ll make it a couple of tanners when I meet the iron horse!” Iron horses were employed in the coaling districts. The first one Buddy saw dumbfounded him for a moment, and his dogs barked frantically at it. It came puffing along the iron railway dragging a number of trucks behind it, and one of the' trucks was full of men all sitting up and looking proud. • “What d’you call him gov’ner?” shouted Buddy. ' ■ . "Locomotive!. Travelling engine!” cried the driver.

Buddy didn’t like the name at all, but he offered to race the driver for a “flatch-enore,” which meant half-a-crown. His father .'told him he was . a fool to throw his savings -away, but the engine driver took him on, and they decided to race to a certain point. “Squint!” shouted Buddy to his dogs, and , off they went. ’

It was a', terrible race. .The iron horse screamed, the dogs strained, Buddy sat grimly silent, and -the rest of them howled. The iron horse got ahead, but the dogs sprang forward: in a fury of anger, and won by a head. Never had Buddy had such hard WOrk to win a race! A short time afterwards he saw George Stephenson win the £5OO prize with his famous locomotive, The Rocket, which travelled on the iron railway at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour! “No more racing iron horses. for me,” 'said wise Buddy.