A GREENHORN ON THE RACECOURSE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 81, 1 May 1909, Page 4

A GREENHORN ON THE RACECOURSE.

'•HOW I WAS TOLD THE TALE." The man who never in his life saw a horse race lias at least heard of jockeys, uookies, tipsters, touts, although ho may nut have very clear notions as to what part they play in the turf wor d What the writer knows of thorn n> learnt at lirst hand, and it happened as follows: .. •■1 attended the Western Meeting, Avr, in the year 18- At that tune I w'as in my nineteenth year. Ihrecquarters of an hour before the first race 1 was one of the crowd standing on the course just opposite the grandstaid., In the centre a tipster was giving a splendid example of barefaced lying. He was very loudly dressed in norsey ashion-riding breeches, leggings taucy vest, profusion of gold chain. On ground spread in front of h.m were. Jacket and coat. Scattered over these were £2O in gold. BOOKIE ELOQUENCE. ..,„ a frenzy of eloquence he had. pulled these out and thrown them down ™ew minutes before. 'To show you, gen lemcn,' he had said Ua * am" penny tipster, if I don't sell a sinj,. S'U lg styoulwiU 4 tay ere and i i- i-'ut ihriii* tilings J- *• sl'i^y^Noomarkef-four'hundred

he screamed-he wasl not a tactful orator- 'will JO" do u „ ttl'mgoin'totellyouinthella.U o „„ si re 'Andicap to-day, or will you go ndbak the rotten advice of some 6a &,,, so-called tipsters? NiceUpsto J thev are, my word-sonie ot cm couiu Vl not tell the difference between a raceh°.^att° to voice to a confiden- it tial whlspe P i- Wo, gentlemen/ he said ■ earnestly, 'they're not tipsters - that a nam don't ntVem. I eonld name 'em "n right, but T daren't, not in public Vi be run in for using obscene language gi , Well then, to business; are you going fa follow mo «* » a V, b , ".°ll mV h vou not! Thi6 colt marked on all my cXds for the 'andicap has been tried at home very highly tadced. The conneeSong think he has fourteen pounds t. best of the weights. The owner told d me himself he's having a plunge on him, and I was talking this morning in the smoke-room of the hotel to he jock y who'll ride him. He says, It s all ngl t, Fred," he says, "It's a pinch for us-the biggest pinch in the world. THE COMMISSION AGENT'S PAL. "As the rascal mouthed this stupen- y dous lie 1 looked round to see the effect ■ on the faces of those around me. My r( eyes eaught those of a young fellow s( who was smiling in a scornfully inciedu- ~ lous manner. He backed out oi the t| crowd in front of mc, and when clear wu both burst out laughing. " 'lsn't it wonderful,' he remarked, 'simply wonderful, how the majority of these chaps listening swallow lus palp- c able lies!' J '• 'lt is,' I replied. . u '"Have a cigar!' he asked, offering t his case. h "When we had lighted up he proposed a a stroll out of the din-the bookmakers t had started to shout out the odds against prospective runnrrs in the first >) event. , . . ' "I had no compunction in fraternising q with him, for he was frank •without f being familiar, courteous and pleasant in speech. He spoke with an English accent, appeared to he about twentyfive, and was. I should say, about five feet eight. His clothes, those of a racing man, were of the very best cut and material—he wore a light morningcoat suit, light fiery bowler hat, and patent leather hoots. He carried gloves in hie hand, and over his arm a Newmarket coat, irom the pocket of which peeped a pair of field-glasses. i "He told mc that he was the son of a well-to-do farmer in Warwickshire, that lie had been educated for the law, but ' had no liking for that profession. His idea of enjoying life was to follow the race meetings. 'I am travelling with a friend—a commission agent in a big way. He is -working a stable commission for something very hot in the first 1 race here to-day. He's in the paddoek ; now, of course, but he is going to take ' a run down here to give me the wire and take m.v bet. He gets a bigger price insid e than 1 get outside, you see. ! I daren't be seen" with him in the ring—i his clients would -object, you know. It • isn't the thing for a commission agent : to knock about with pals doing business. . Stable secrets are expected to be kept i absolutely. By the way, do you have t a little Jlutter"occasionally!' he asked. 1 IN FOR A PLUNGE. " 'Once hi a while,' 1 answered, trying • to speak in the calm, matter-ot-fact l tones used by him, but I was feeling , far from calm. It is not every day in 1 the life of a common clerk that he has i the fortune to he hobnobbing with the c clever heads of the paddock. Here was r I about to be introduced, perhaps, to a , real live stable commission agent. r " 'Oh, that's the very thing, then,' rcs turned my friend, 'seeing tiiat you're 1 alone and that I, too, am on my soli- , tary; we'll pall it out together, and by -1 way of compensation for my cheek to - speaking to you you shall have the boneg fit of my iriend's information.' y "I 'was thanking him when his friend dashed up. To let them converse h private I made to withdraw, tat my e friend would have none of it. 'Not at 6 all; come here, old chap. Jack, this is , a friend I have picked up.' lj "Jack smiled affably and shook hands n with me. Ho was the typical, astuta I, racing man in appearance—little, stout, dark-complexioned, and clean-shaven. 0 'Well, then, gentlemen,' he said briskly, r 'we are plunging on Spotless. Little ti Gould rides, and it's a hundred -pounds s to a pinch of snuff she'll win in a walk.' s "My friend put his hand into his hip ' pocket and drew out a handful of gold. ' Picking out ten sovereigns, he handed |, them over with the remark, 'Very well, old man, I'll have a tenner a win.' [\ " 'l'erhaps,' he looked deferentially at ' the commission agent, 'you'll perform . a similar service for my friend. Do, 1 there's a good icllow.' "The commission agent looked serious, and, my heart sank to my boots. Was I to have the mortification to see Spotless romp home without carrying my money! But no; his kindness prevailed. '"Very well, I will, then,' he said; 'but for heaven's sake .not a word to anybody. My reputation would lie r , ruined if this c-anie out.' „ "With trembling lingers I produced e inv investment—three one pound notes |S and Uvo sovereigns—nil the money I v , had in the world, 'five pounds a win, j] if you please, and thank vou very much,' lfJ I said gratefully. "lie hurried down the course towards , f the paddock, and my friend and 1 looked ,1 about for a good place from which to ~ view the race. „ "'What sort of price will Spotless ■],' be!' I asked.

"'Sevens, at least; was the reply. Seven times live are thirty-five, I mentally reckoned. I should win thirty-five pounds. "My friend has his glasses Used; the horses were at the post. I looked at my card for the color of Spotless'* jockey. They 'were black, white spots, yellow sleeves and cap. | "Suddenly that well-known roar went ! up—'They're off.' " 'Spotless got a good start/ said my , friend. 'She's in front; now she's lend- . iug; she's leading still. Gould, yon little . devil, don't push her too fast.' They're r Hearing the bend. Damn it. Spotless has lost her place.' [ "The words brought a cold chill over , me, anil f strained my eves to see for myself. On came the held, something in white leading by live lengths; hopeJ lessly behind were the colors of Spotless. Together we went down towards the uniubcr-board. By the time we ; reached there the numbers of the first ' three were in the frame—l 7. 2, n. "I looked at my card; the names cor- ' responding to these numbers were ' Whilflebury, Jose. Ochiltrie. ' '"Spotless wasn't ill the lirst three,' I said to my adviser. 1 " -No. she 'wasn't.' he replied, 'thanks ? to that little fool Gould-he made 100

much of Iht /rum illio start to the bend.' "Tiii sorry, eld chap.' 1„, added kindly, 'but. Imck up, heller luck next time, lliive II liver on the next mv friend brings nut. Tlmt'll pull out all' right.' | "'Well, perhaps 1 may.' I said, 'hut hi the meantime you must excuse me. I 1 see a friend over there.' and, nodding. 1 proceeded towards (he imaginary friend, nor halted till I reached in'v lodgings. A I'AIII 01' 'SWINDLE!!*. '•I had had. enough of racing lor one I day. hut ] wasn't by a-ny means con- > vineed (hat my friends of the <lav were swindlers. The fact that they had nsI tensiblv hacked u horse Unit, ran very I badly was not. to mv wav of thinking. j any nvoof against them. Owners, triihi- , eiv. jockeys, people well 'in (lie know,' I made mistakes like other Yolk, and when J tiler do their money goes to the bookj maker. The suspicious circumstance was that I had uot been allowed to make

my own bet. My money was put on ' for me in the paddock, where the price was better. I rather feared I had been •told thi' tale,' and when 1 met Hobby Steel a week later 1 found that it was even so. "•Well. Hobby.' I said, 'how goes it! Backing any winners';' " 'No,' said Bobby, 'not backing anything. Backed nothing since i was at Ayr.' "'Oh,' I said, 'you were at Ayr. Howdid vou get on!' ■"'immensely the lirst uvo days,' was the reply; 'was in fourteen pounds leaving the course on Thursday, hut I met ( a Johnnie on Friday, awful toff he was, ! English. His pal was working the commissions in the paddock for some stable lor other, and always came out to give this cove the tip. We chummed up, and 1 had a dash on the tips, too. of course, and rotten tips they were—still', every one. The commission chap took our moncr; invested it in the paddockbetter price there, so he said. My belief is that my money never -went into the paddock, but into his pockets. I think thev were a pair of swindlers.' " 'Quite likely. Hobby, quite likely,' I answered."- J -Phil May-luniks.