Free Old Drumble by Jack Lasenby Page B

your father’s gone back to work, and there’s no way he could bike down and give you a double home.”
    “Aw!” Jack’s voice rose to a whine.
    “That’s quite enough of that, my boy. There’ll be plenty more opportunities to go down to the cemeterycrossing. I’m not promising anything, mind you. We’ll see when the time comes.”
    “Can I go as far as the factory crossing today, like last time?”
    “I suppose so, but only if Andy can be bothered taking you.”
    Jack followed Andy out, grinning at Old Drumble’s tail waving ahead of the mob, saying hello to Old Nell and Young Nugget, rubbing Nosy’s nose when she put it down to him.
    “Just as far as the corner of Cemetery Road,” his mother called from the front porch, “and not a step further. You hear me now?”
    Jack waved, and Andy touched his hat. They walked in silence, Jack’s feet feeling the Smarter Pills that covered the road and sniffing the ammoniac air.
    “Did I ever tell you,” said Andy, “about the time Old Drumble made me take him to the Te Aroha Races?”
    “No.”
    “We’re riding out to pick up a mob one day and, going past the racecourse, Old Drumble stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the road and, before I can open my mouth, he’s turned his strong eye on me. Next thing I know, he’s backing me and Old Nosy through the gate and into the racecourse. I didn’t have any say in it.
    “We wanders over to have a look at the racehorses dancing around and getting themselves worked up in thebirdcage, and Old Drumble catches me eye and nods at a two-year-old gelding who’s starting for the first time. Next thing I know, I’m being backed across to put on a bet. I know what he means by that nod, so I puts ten bob on the two-year-old’s nose.”
    Andy whistled, but already Old Nell was streaking along to guard an open gate. Past her, Jack saw Harry and Minnie dive inside and slam their gates behind them.
    “Why did you put ten bob on the gelding’s nose?”
    “You think a horse is going to come in first, so you put your bet on his nose—for a win. If you put it on for a place—coming second or third—you get paid less. Five bob each way means you’re putting five bob on for a win, and five bob for a place. It still costs ten bob, but you’re not sure it’ll win, so you’re sort of covering yourself.”
    “Did the gelding win?”
    “The clodhopping goorie!” Andy’s voice creaked, dry with dust. “The leaders are turning into the back straight, and he’s half a furlong behind the rest of the field. I looks down in disgust at Old Drumble, but he’s vanished. He told me to bet on the mongrel; now he’s too embarrassed to hang around and look a man straight in the eye.
    “There used to be some weeping willows, the other side of the Te Aroha course, that hid a couple of chains of the back straight. By the time the leaders come out from behind the willows, the gelding’s in front! How in thename of all that’s wonderful did he catch up so fast? The crowd roars. He comes thundering down past the stand, past the judges, wins by a nose.”
    “That’s the nose with the bet on it?” asked Jack.
    Andy nodded. “He didn’t just win, but he caught up from away behind the field—in record time. Just about everyone’s done their money, but nobody’s worried; they’re all too busy screaming and yelling that New Zealand’s found a new Phar Lap.”

Chapter Seventeen
    Why Minnie Mitchell Looked Like
a Dying Goldfish, Why Jack Sat on His Tail
as He Galloped Home, and Why He
Stood on One Leg and Havered.
    “E VERYONE’S OVER THE MOON because of the unknown gelding winning the race,” said Andy the Drover.
    “Up on the members’ stand, the cockies’ wives are dancing in their best silk dresses, jumping out of their high-heeled shoes, and waving their silly hats. And the cockies in their brown pinstripe suits, with their members’ tickets jiggling from their waistcoat buttonholes, they’re jigging and tossing