A Very Special Type of Pub Grub


 

Rafferty's Race at the Royal 


(From: The Sydney Mail, July 15th 1931)


RAFFERTY had left his sheep just out behind the common, in charge of old Ned, a dog well known in the district. "Let um have a rest and a feed, Ned, old chap; I'll be back before sundown." 

     Rafferty made his way into the small town-ship only 2½ miles from where Ned stood guard. It was a hot day, and Rafferty's horse could be seen tied up under a shady pepper-tree right in front of the Royal. Rafferty was a queer old chap, and in his humble way he was a born naturalist. You never knew what Rafferty might un-earth from one of his torn coat pockets. 

     "Well, Rafferty," said the publican, "been catching any more of them specimens of yours lately?" 

        "Yes," said Rafferty, "I have. Just fill up that pot again, will you? I'm awful thirsty. I'll show you a thing I got only yesterday morning." 

        The publican obeyed orders, and Rafferty, taking a swig at his beer, produced an old sardine tin with a wrapper of brown paper round it. "Don't undo it here," said the publican, "until I find out just what it is." 

    "Oh, don't worry," said Rafferty. "I ain't got no death-adder this time. Just a little slaty-coloured grub, that's all. Got him off a lillipilli tree near Wilson's pigstye." 

    "Well," said the publican, "what's he good for, anyhow?" 

    "Good for? Well, I'll tell you. It's a Phar Lap, that's just what it is; never seen one pace like him. Bet you three drinks you can't get a grub in your vegetable garden to pace it with him."

        Things were very quiet at the Royal, so the publican, enjoying the joke and the novelty of the challenge, went with Rafferty into the garden. Grubs were plentiful, and the publican selected a long thin green one as his steed. A flat top of a porter-case was the course, and, starting from one end, it was first to the top to win the prize.

     "Can you touch them at all?" said the publican. 

    "Oh, yes," said Rafferty. "You can spur them three times." 

        "How do you do that?" said the publican. 

        "With a pin, of course," said Rafferty. "Give them a job with a pin." 

        They put a brick under the top end of the box, Rafferty making out that they would go better on an up grade. The race started. The publican's grub made straight away; Rafferty's steed stretched himself, held his head up, and looked around; then it started. The publican's grub was about five lengths in the lead when all of a sudden it stopped. Rafferty's candidate plugged steadily on. 

        "First spur," said the publican, and a quiet touch with the pin sent his steed on once more. 

        Rafferty's grub continued to make steady progress, and although about ten lengths behind was coming on surely. The publican's grub stopped once more; Rafferty's champion, still steadily coming along, was only about three lengths behind. Another spur and away went the Royal grub once more. Another stop. Rafferty's mate came along again, and was now about two lengths behind and only four inches to the winning-post. 

        The publican used his spur for the third and last time. Only four inches to go, so one good prod and it would be all over. The pin was applied, but too severely. The Royal grub curled up and started rolling down to the bottom of the box. 

        Rafferty won. 

        "I'll tell you," said Rafferty, laughing and rubbing his hands together, "next time you try this race game use the head of the pin, and not the point. That's why I put that box on the slant. You only want to touch 'em with the head." 

         Rafferty mounted his horse and went off to Ned and the sheep. "I'll let Phar Lap out of this tin when I gets to the camp. He sure deserves a feed."

— "Back-block."

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