The Black Stallion

hard, fast race had told on those large feet. Silver Knight picked up his stride again, then faltered once more. This time it cost him the ground between Miss Elsie and Bonfire.
    Miss Elsie glanced behind at the faltering gray colt; then she saw Bonfire's head come between them and she went for her whip. The blood bay colt was coming through the "hole" with less than a hundred yards to go!
    Tom's hands moved quickly as he called for every last bit of speed from Bonfire. He felt the colt gather himself just as he had for every sprint at the fairs—and this in spite of the long, hard race behind him. Tom felt himself picked up and hurled forward; the colt's tail cut his face like the sharp lash of a whip, yet Tom never felt the pain. He couldn't see ahead, but it didn't matter; he knew the track was clear. Above the finish line was the long string of lights. And many yards before he and Bonfire passed beneath their brilliance, they had swept by the beaten black filly, Princess Guy.
    Those who saw Bonfire create a new world's record of 1:59 at Roosevelt Raceway that night described the blinding speed of this blood bay colt no differently from the farmers and the small-town folk of the fairs who had seen Bonfire.
    "His sprint is something that sets you afire," they said. "You see him gather himself, then suddenly it happens and you find yourself being picked up and hurled along with him, even though you're away up in the grandstand. But it's hard to explain exactly what happens to him and to you, when he goes. You have to see him yourself."

Back at Coronet
21
    Two months later, Tom and George helped Jimmy down the hospital steps. They helped him even though he kept insisting that he was all right and had never felt better in all his life.
    Tom knew that in all probability Jimmy was telling the truth, because for the first time in many, many long months he saw the tiny pinpoints of brown in Jimmy's hazel eyes. And when Jimmy's eyes were clear it meant that he was feeling very well. Still, he was weak from his many weeks in bed, and it was best that he take it very slow and easy for a while, just as Dr. Morton had told him to do.
    There was a good chance, too, that Jimmy would follow Dr. Morton's instructions, for the pains he had experienced before the operation were of the severest kind. Jimmy hadn't mentioned them, but Dr. Morton had told Tom and George of Jimmy's terrible ordeal. He had gone on to say that the ulcer had been removed completely when the Boston surgeon closed the stomach leak. There was no reason now why Jimmy shouldn't be in perfect health.
    Reaching the bottom of the steps, George asked, "You warm enough, Jimmy?" The fall day was exceptionally cool and the mid-afternoon sun was hidden behind clouds.
    Jimmy pulled the muffler about his neck. "Sure, I'm warm enough," he said a little defiantly. "No need to treat me like an invalid, George. I'm okay now, I tell you."
    "I know that," George said, smiling. "It's just that it's cool for me, too."
    They got in the car and drove through the streets of Pittsburgh. Jimmy sat between them in the front seat and was silent a long while, then he said, "The doc said Mrs. Davis wanted to stay on at my house. So I told him she could." He turned to George, adding quickly, "Not as a nurse… I don't need a nurse. She's goin' to do my cooking. She's a pretty good cook." Then to Tom, "Not as good as your Aunt Emma… but good for our town." He paused again, then continued as though more explanation of Mrs. Davis's presence in his bachelor home was necessary. "She needs a good home, the doc said, and she likes Coronet. She's pretty old, you know."
    "Y'mean she's not like us
kids
?" George asked without taking his eyes from the road.
    Jimmy laughed loudly then. "Yeah," he said, "that's it."
    Tom felt Jimmy's hand on his knee, and he laughed with him. This was the old Jimmy Creech. Things were going to be…
    "She just wants room and board," Jimmy said. "No money." And when he mentioned the word
money
he turned to George. "We got enough left to last us through the winter?"
    Taking a deep breath, Tom turned away to look out the car window. Once again, it was coming. George had paid all the bills out of their winnings, and had shown the receipted bills to Jimmy. But even though the amounts shown on the statements were less than they had actually paid the Boston surgeon and the hospital, they were large enough to make Jimmy wonder how they'd ever done it racing
at the