Didn't Want His Horse To Win

Another Owner Said His Horse Was 'Ring-Tail'

To back one's horse and wish that it would get beaten seems anomalous, but such was 'M.'s' desire at a race meeting once in Western Queensland.

Desirous of obtaining a fairly good horse for a picnic meeting to take place a few weeks ahead, I wrote and asked a manager I knew if he could sell me a horse of the type I wanted. He hadn't one, but informed me that a carrier who was there waiting for wool loading, had the kind of horse I wanted and that he would sell it for £50. The time in which the horse could run half a mile was given, but if I desired it, I could bring up a horse and have a trial. The horse's breeding was good enough, and not having won a race, it seemed cheap enough.

I decided to go up and inspect and take with me a horse that could gallop a bit. As soon as I saw the carrier's horse I was impressed, and if it could gallop as well as it looked, I knew the horse would be mine. A trial eventually took place with the carrier's horse winning by lengths. When I saw the exhibition that had been made of my horse I was afraid the carrier would refuse to sell, but he didn't, and the horse became mine.

According to the carrier, the horse had only started twice as a three year-old and then had been turned out on account of having a quartered hoof. Not being a racing enthusiast, the carrier didn't bother about racing the horse again. After getting my new purchase home I put him into work and after a few weeks I realised I had a galloper of class, at least as far as outback racing company was concerned.

The horses for the meeting had to be paddocked for a month and then they had ten days on feed before race day. As the carrier had been feeding the horse for months, my new purchase was in solid condition when he went to the paddock. After being paddocked I heard of some suspicious cases, and in a joke another station manager said to me, 'I suppose you've got a 'ring-tail' paddocked. When I said mine was a maiden, and hadn't won a race, he said, 'Did you ever know of a 'ring-tail' that had?'

In due course the horses came out of the paddock, and mine was taken back to the station to be worked there by a blackboy I had. After timing one gallop I could see the Bracelet already in my pocket, and as there was a little pre-post betting I backed my horse to win a fair amount. I feared no 'ring-tail,' no matter how good it might be.

'Hot Things'

A day before the race meeting I took the horse in to the township, and that night I bought him in the Calcutta sweep, worth a little over a hundred pounds to the winner. Incidentally, I again backed the horse for a little more money, and had visions of a good win on the morrow. There were three or four horses at shorter odds than mine, and I advised several of my friends to back my horse while the odds were what they were. Few of them, however, took my advice; one or two of them, shaking their heads in a knowing manner, and intimating that there were a couple of hot things in the race. I didn't care how hot they were, as the trial the horse had shown me was. I knew, more than good enough to win.

I had secured a rider on whom I could depend, and just before legging him up on the horse a man I had never seen before accosted me. "Look here, Mr. 'M——,' "he said, "I don't like to see a man lose his money in cold blood; I know that horse of yours, and if you win and I run second I'll protest. Your horse is So-and-so. I know him well."

Here was a nice kettle of fish, and while I was pondering over the matter the bell rang for the horses to go to the post. I certainly was not going to tell the rider to pull the horse, so gave him instructions to hit the front and stay there. As the horses were doing their preliminaries a friend came up and said he was surprised to hear that I had stooped so low as run a 'ringtail.' He mentioned the name of the horse the stranger had told me mine was, adding that several on the course had seen my horse win at other meetings.

As far as I was concerned, I was acting quite innocently, and if the horse was what he was said to be, I would be able to prove my case, for in the receipt obtained from the carrier was a statement that the horse was a maiden. That receipt was well in my pocket, and I was prepared in case of eventualities.

Won Pulling Up

The race needs little description, for my horse raced away to the lead and won pulling up by lengths. A few in the crowd started to call out 'ringtail' as the horse led into the straight, and I wished that he would run off, especially so when a member of the committee whispered to me that there would be an enquiry. I was even given glassy stares by some of those I had regarded as friends, and I wished fervently that the boy would fall off rather than the horse win.

However, once the judge had declared my horse a winner I went to the president of the club and demanded that an enquiry be held as to the bona-fides of my horse. The horse owned by the stranger had been placed second, and I wanted to get in first before he carried out his threat of protesting. After weight was declared the bookmakers started to pay out, and, much to my surprise, no protest was lodged. But I was determined to clear the atmosphere, and to please me a meeting of the committee was held. I stated my case, producing my receipt, and suggested the owner of the second horse be called to give evidence. The man was sent for, but said he knew nothing about the horse, and refused to go before the committee. I then realised it had been a bluff, but it turned out an unlucky one for the stranger, for I called him to book after the meeting and gave him what he deserved — a darned good hiding. — 'M.'

He Loved The Daughter, But Married Mother

Jim Z. was a quiet, hard-working farmer who had lost his wife and had been left with three small children. As satisfactory housekeepers who would undertake to look after his children were unprocurable, and as he could not give them the needed attention and care, he decided that the best thing for him to do was to re-marry.

His choice fell on a young woman, the daughter of a widow, but she would not have him. He was too old for her and she did not want a family with which to start married life. She gave him no encouragement and remained cold and indifferent to his advances.

It so happened that although the daughter did not want the man, the mother did. Mother and daughter put their heads together, and it was ar ranged between them that the daughter was to do the courting but the mother was to be the bride. As their Christian and surnames were the same, the deception was more easily carried out. Not till after the wedding ceremony and the veil was raised did the man discover that he had married not the daughter, but the mother. However, he had secured a house keeper and a mother for his little children, and she a good home. As after events proved, they made an ideal couple.— 'Sun.'

Fireworks In Early Days Of Millicent

In the late seventies, when Millicent was young, the policeman was one Patrick Shiels. The youth of the town had been firing off crackers in the street and causing nervy horses and human beings some consternation. The policeman warned the lads, 'once for all,' that it must not occur again, or prosecution would be the result.

It happened that a bookseller had laid in a stock of fireworks for the approaching Guy Fawkes day, and so to announce the fact that he had the goods he discharged a couple of rockets from his front door on the main street. On the morrow he was served with a summons. The case came on in the Millicent Hotel. The fireworks vendor was fined. He was recently married, and his wife was very much disturbed about it, and he, likewise, was upset and nervy.

In passing into the court room the second policeman was standing at the street door, and he, the defendant, shook his fist menacingly under the policeman's nose, and made some remark in high pitched tone about the trouble he had brought on the domestic conditions of his home.

Shiels was told about it, and advised arrest if the objectionable behavior was repeated. As he returned from the building the fireworks seller again accosted the junior policeman, putting his closed fist near the latter's nose. He closed with the fireworks man, but the policeman could do nothing with him.

Policeman number three came to his assistance, but combined they made no headway to the police station. Then the other policeman lent a hand, and they got him to the cell, but nearly disrobed him in effecting it.

In due course, after having been bailed out, he was again brought be fore the court and fined for 'objectionable behavior, tantamount to an attempt to provoke a breach of the peace.'

It so happened that he and the policeman, who had been the instigator, were associated as member and agent of a building society, and the weekly payments were not always punctually paid up, so he was informed in something like the following:—

'Mr. Policeman Blank— Take notice that you will be fined in the future for any day or part of a day you are in arrears with your subscriptions. — Yours, &c., Mr. Policeman Blank. (Signed) The Agent.'

The letter was put in the post with a penny stamp, for, as the fireworks man remarked to a passer-by, he "wasn't worth 'tuppence.' " Again he was on the carpet for sending objectionable matter through the post. Another court case and another fine, running into double figures with nearly half as much more in expenses.

He called an indignation meeting, and the hall was filled with curiously-minded folk out for a little diversion. A heated speech from the thrice convicted defendant, and a resolution to the head of the department was put, asking for a mitigation of the fine. One, whom we will call 'Old Jack,' and who had recently been through the hands of the police for a worse offence than either of those the other had been charged with, mounted the platform and said that he thought it would be a pity if the resolution were carried, for "they all knew that both the local policemen were splendid vegetable growers, and it might be the cause of them being moved, and the public would have to go without vegetables, or get a Chinaman to grow them." The officer in charge was heard to remark. "What the devil has come over the man?" The resolution was, however, carried, and the fine considerably reduced.— Tanta Tyga.

Dishonest Dead Wool Gatherers Thwarted

No wonder station owners and managers are reluctant to allow men to collect dead wool on contract. There's always the risk of live sheep being converted into dead ones. During a drought in Queensland two motor car 'bagmen' called at a station where hundreds of sheep had died, and were still dying. Being almost full-woolled, a lot of wealth was lying in the paddocks, and after an interview, the manager arranged with the two men to collect the dead wool. Twopence per 1b. was to be paid for all wool delivered at an old bough shed, where a set of scales was to be placed.

The two dead-wool gatherers had been working for a couple of weeks when I came to the station in connection with a deal in horses, and casually I remarked about the numbers of dead sheep I saw while riding along the road. I incidentally referred to the smell of what I presumed were carcases being burnt. Little was said about the latter, but the overseer mentioned the large amount of wool the two men had collected.

A couple of days later I rode out with the manager to inspect a few horses, said to be low in condition, but capable of travelling. On our way out, smoke attracted the manager's attention and he decided to investigate. As we drew nearer I remarked it seemed as though carcases were being burnt. With a laugh the manager replied, 'Couldn't expect the dead-wool gatherers to go to the trouble of burning carcases.'

In a patch of scrub we came on to a tell-tale scene, and although the two dead-wool gatherers were absent, all was as plain as daylight. Sheep had been mustered to a small brush yard and here they had been shorn with the blades. As each sheep was shorn its throat was cut, and at the end of the day the carcases were piled together and burnt. Later, an inspection of the wool in the bags and secondhand packs showed that some dead wool had been placed on the top and bottom of the containers, whilst in other cases the wool from the shorn sheep had been mixed in with dead wool. Fortunately, no payment had been made for any of the wool, and in the subsequent interview the two men declined to commit themselves. By next day they had packed up and driven away.

Actually the station was the gainer for besides having had a fair quantity of dead wool collected for nothing a good deal of the wool from the live sheep was also obtained for nothing. Most of these sheep were too low in condition to drive to the shed for shearing.— 'Gidyea. '

Aborigine's Lust To Kill Nearly Won

The aborigine is not by nature what one would call cruel, in that he derives no pleasure from infliction of torture, or from seeing animals in pain. But it is instinctive for him to kill any living thing he sees, and he will go a long way to satisfy that instinct [sic].

I had a black boy once who remained with me for eight years. He was a good stockman, and as reliable as any aborigine could be, though I never trusted him completely. One day when out after cattle and being thirsty, I dismounted beside a rivulet of clear, sparkling water. The boy also dismounted and held the horses while I lay down with my mouth to the water.

Then something made me turn and look up. Bending over me was the boy, his face like that of a fiend, and trembling all over so that his muscles twitched. I was on my feet in a moment, and then demanded in no gentle tones what was the matter with him. At first he had difficulty in framing words to reply, but after a while the fit seemed to leave him and he said —

'Boss, never do so again. Close up I have to kill you. What make me want I no savvy, but he be same like I must.' I really believe that if he had had anything with which to strike me at the time he would have killed me. He would probably have been very sorry afterwards, but for the moment he had been overcome by inherited instincts. After that episode I took no more chances with him.— F.G.