The Man Who Was Satisfied.

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1920, Page 7 (Supplement)

The Man Who Was Satisfied.

A TRAIN EXPERIENCE.

(By Moturoa.)

The last race train dragged slowly up the Patea Hill, and the crowded occupants of one of Massey's most ramshackle second "smokers" . slunk back dejectedly in their scats, and gazed thoughtfully at one another through the mingling smoke and dusk. It had been a hard day, and winners at Waverley had never been more elusive. The majority of the defeated punters hadn't had enough to buy a cup of tea at Patea, and thirst only accentuated their tired, dusty, "broke" condition. Then a small, fat man at the far end o'f the carriage started to unload on his immediate companions, the usual 'hard luck story. Before leaving home in the morning he had picked every winner, but through listening to "information" —that magic word which appears to mean so much, but really means nothing—and getting "shut out" on other occasions, he hadn't backed one of his fancies. "The next time I go to races," he said, "I'll be pounds better off." Several others chipped in, and racecourse tips, and totalisator management Were torn to shreds. The small, fat man grew vehement. "The next man that comes to mo with a ean'tlose tip,. I'll hand over to the police," he roared.

A fierce' looking man with whiskers like a gorse bush, aired % Jiis opinions of "Christmas jockeys," and cracked several ancient jokes about clothes, horses, drays, and other things, which were coldly received. Even his opinions that Hector Gray was the only jockey in New Zealand, failed to earn applause. They were a dry lot! Then a tall, sandy haired person near tha door, caused a mild sensation bys producing a flask, which he half-emptied, and returned to his pocket. For a moment it looked as if several thirstylooking souls would have Overwhelmed him, and torn the precious fluid from his person, but nothing happened. The tall, sandy haired man gazed round the carriage, carefully sizing up its occupants, and after casting a glance of recognition at the slowly passing landscape, cleared his throat, and began: "I'm always satisfied when I come home with mc own." They eyed him dully, but he went on:—"Now, I always take twenty-five bob With me when I go to races. A quid to bet with, and five hob to spend on -er-refreshments. If I lose me quid I'm done."

"And how did you get on to-day?" inquired a sallow-faced youth" with a cigarette growing to his lower lip. "Oh, orlrite," replied the tall man. "Well, you're lucky," said the fat man.

"Yes, I suppose I am," replied the tall party. "You see, I started well. I had ten bo'b on Shuza in tho llorton Memorial, the first'race. Percy Johnson told me he couldn't miss, and I got 'sixes' from one of the 'hooks.' Then I put three quid on that Wanganui mare, Chase Hah, at 'threes.' She won, and I collected twelve quid." He took another pull at the flask, but his audience didn't seem to notice. They were mildly interested in the narrative.

"Then Frank Flynn comes to me, and he says Lingerer was a moral. I got twenty to five in two places, and ten to *:\ro in another. Lingerer just strol'ed home, and I was busy col.eel.irig sixty-Hio quid. Tlisi! come the Cup. I didn't fancy anything mvci, but Charlie Price was riding Kangjiiaca, so 1 put the lot on him at 'twos.' He was always a winner, and I had to collect, a hundred and eighty six of the best." The speaker paused, and the eilence was so intense, that you could have, heard an elephant drop. "And what did you go for in the Wilson Stakes/' asked the cigarette fiend in a whisper. "Oh, the Wilson Stakes," said the tall man, "Yes, 1 remember now, I couldn't see Clampett beaten, and I put the lot on her at 'fiveß.' Home she rolled, and I tell you I made those five bookmakers look silly. I had some trouble getting the thousand and eighty into my pockets, but managed it somehow." He paused reflectively while the excited listeners, bit their finger nails, and shuffled their feet impatiently. Then he continued:—"Nothing but Nicotine would do me in the Prince of Wales Handicap, and I had a bit of itrouble getting 'set' at 'evens.' However, I got it all on, and Dick Johnson's mare came along at the right end, and duly landed. This time I had to borrow a ■couple of brief bags to put the two thousand (odd) into, and they were so long paying me out that I nearly missed getting 'two's' about Eangihaefa in. the Moumahaki Stakes. It was hot work, I ean tell you collecting that six thousand i(and something), and I was beginning to feel that I had the breeze behind me." He stopped and gazed out of the window, and then took a final pull at the flask. The train was slowing down, and he made as if to open the door, preparatory to leaving. In a moment all hands were on their feet. "How did you get on in the last race?" a dozen screamed. "Finish your yarn," gasped the pale faced youth, ■whose cigarette had gone out. "Well," continued the tall man in tired tones, as he quietly opened the carriage door, "I put the lot on Langshan in the Jackson Memorial, and he lost." A bowl of disappointment greeted the conclusion, but the tall, sandy 'haired man did not appear to notice •the effect of his words. As the train steamed out of the station, bis late companions heard him cheerfully telling the stationmaster that he had had a grand day's sport, and flashing a pound note, he said, "I'm always sntisfiecl when I come home with me own I"