WHEN MAORIS RUN HORSES

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2391, 5 January 1909, Page 6

WHEN MAORIS RUN HORSES

SKETCHES AT A NATIVE RACE MEETING.

UNCONVENTIONAL METHODS

‘ £ Arawa! Arawa ! Arawa ! 1 ake down! Take down!” tho crowd was yelling at top voice at the Maori race meeting at Muriwai on .Saturday, as two horses galloped up the straight in the Pony race, Arawa, •although Maori named, was a Bakeha-ownecl horse, while Take Down, in the oujei of opposites, belonged to and was ridden by a Native. Arawa was hast to pass the post, and was favontc, butT alas, Take Down carried no small quantity of money. “Arawa is not a pony. He is too bier to run a pony,” yelled the .Natives when the jockey came to weigh in. Here was a predicament. The white man’s horse had won, tut the Maoris had lost their money. M hat could be done? “Measiire Aiava veiled the backers of Take Do\\n. “Run the race over again, suggested others. “Declare no-race, ih will .return Arawa’s money, cnecl several bookmakers, m the hope that K money put on the losing horses would remain in their bags as clear profit. However, Arawa uas mea nred A. long stick was brought, the animal was found to be a horse and not a pony. Then the Maoris got excited. “Pay Take Down,” they cried, h , . jj interiected the officials oi# the club. “Don’ pay out.” The steward’ were called together m a tent. TioreTo (a babel of Maori jabber) was held. Some favored Amwa beinc declared the winner, others Take* Down: “No race! No race! Veiled those outside. ‘Go an ay, Replied the officials through an opening in the tent. The convention ol stewards ended and no result was announced. The Pakehas got the ear of one of the officials and a few minutes afterwards the bookmakers were told to pay out on Arawa, and the Takeha crowd rejoiced. ~ . . “What you weigh out for? said the Clerk of Scales to a jockey. “Dago,” the boy replied. He not handicapped, von can’t start,” said the official. “Yes,'l can,” replied the boy. “I pav the money, I want to start,” “Well, what handicap von want? What can you carry if you want to win?” “I satisfied with 9 stone, I win with that.” “Oi:l right;, von win you carry 9 stone?” said the handicapper. “Yes,” said-the bo\ . “You sure vou win?” “'Yes, I wan. You go and back him.” “OH right,’ replied the handicapper. “I see you not win. You carry eleven stone six,”' and so the weight was decided, and Dago did not win. “Whore my saddlecloth?” inquired a jockey. “What number?” .asked the Clerk of the Scales. “Number 0,” avhs the answer. “I earn fine him,” said the Native. “I tell you, go saddle up, put on the number cloth when I find him.” “How can I put the cloth on after _ I saddle up?” asked the jockey ,in disgust. “Never mind the number, then,” said the Maori. “Yon wone win,.. you don’ want no number.” The jockey went away and number 9 did not •win. .

“What weight you carry?” inquired the Native official when tlio jockey came to weigh out. “148 pounds,” Avas the answer. “AA'hat you go now ?” Avas the next inquiry. “132 pounds,” was the reply. “That . near enough,” said the official. “Put oil a couple of sacks, and that near enough,” and the jockey was iveighed out. -But the old Native gentleman, as he stood avith a s-hoAvy pair - of field glasses swung over his shoulders, and acted as judge was not to be influenced. There was -a close finish _botween Jack and Traitor. “What win?” the crowd inquired. “traitor, said the judge. “No, Jack, yelled a chorus of Natives and Pakehas. .(Jack was favorite.) The judge smiled grimly and was silent. The Clerk of the Course brought Traitor back. “He wins,” said the judge, —and Traitor got his.race.