The Black Stallion

car, Wilmer, or build a new road!"
    "Heh?" Uncle Wilmer asked.
    But Jimmy didn't repeat his statement; instead he turned to George. "We'll see him in a minute, won't we, George?"
    "Sure will, Jimmy."
    They emerged from the woods and the barn was ahead of them. As they crossed the brook, the Queen came from her stall and into the paddock at the sound of the car. She raised her head, whinnying to them. From inside the stall, the colt echoed her whinny. As they stopped the car, there was a rustle of straw from the stall, and Tom said, "I'll bet he was down, sleeping."
    Jimmy was out of the car first and went to the mare. But no sooner had he reached her than the colt came bolting out of the stall, head high, ears pricked, eyes searching, and seemingly covered completely by straw entwined in his coat. He had been down, all right.
    Tom climbed through the rails of the paddock fence to go to him, but Jimmy and George stood still, content at first to look at the colt from a distance.
    Quickly the colt came to Tom, nuzzling his hands and pockets, while the boy talked to him and ran his hands over the hard body, removing the straw. Then he scratched him on the spots he knew the colt liked best. For a long while Jimmy and George just stood there studying the colt. And the colt turned his large, wondering eyes toward them, trying to figure them out, too.
    Finally Tom took him by the halter and led him away from the Queen and to the far side of the paddock and back. He did it, he told himself, so Jimmy and George could see the colt's beautiful walk, as light as though he could step on eggshells without cracking them. But Tom knew well enough he had another reason for leading the colt around as he was doing. He wanted Jimmy to see that he had done a good job, the job Jimmy had expected of him.
    Jimmy noticed, for he said, when they approached him at the fence, "You did it, Tom. We won't be havin' any trouble with him."
    "And he's what you said about him," George added.
    "Is he, Jimmy?" Tom turned to him for his opinion, too.
    "And more, Tom," Jimmy said, "Much more."
    "I believe it," Uncle Wilmer spoke for the first time. "You won't find none better."
    "No," Jimmy said, "I don't think anyone could find a better-looking colt."
    "And he'll have the speed, too, Jimmy," Tom said convincingly.
    "We'll see," Jimmy said. Turning to the Queen, he added, "He should have it, with the Queen for his dam and the Black for a sire." His hand stayed on the mare, stroking her while he turned again to the colt. "He's goin' to be a blood bay, all right, Tom. I wouldn't know where he gets that color. But I know just from looking at him that he's got the
    Queen's good temperament—that's in his eyes. They're hers, all right. But there's a lot of the Black in his body. He's going to be big, maybe sixteen hands. And the quarters are the Black's an' the chest, too. So's the head; it's going to be fairly small and sets well on his neck. That neck is the Queen's, though. That much we can all see," he added quietly. "What's inside of him is another story, and that is most important. The will and drive to win is what I hope he has."
    "He'll have it, Jimmy," Tom said eagerly. "You should see him in the pasture. He'll go from morning to night. Why, he'll…"
    And for the next hour and a half all three stood there, listening to Tom give an account of his colt and watching him while he played about the paddock. It came to an end only by Aunt Emma's shattering call to come to supper.
    To make the round kitchen table as large as possible, Aunt Emma had inserted all her extra leaves. On it, Tom knew, was her best rose-bordered tablecloth, but you couldn't see much of it, for it seemed that every platter and bowl she had was on the table, each filled with good things, smoking and steaming hot.
    Jimmy took one look at the platters of fried chicken, the bowls of gravy and giblets, the pork sausage, the potato filling studded with chopped onions and celery, the steaming plates of hot corn, peas and noodles, and all the hot rolls waiting to be eaten; then he turned to Aunt Emma in amazement. "My gosh!" he said. "What a spread of food! You did it all now—while we were at the barn?"
    Aunt Emma turned from the hot wood stove, her face flushed from its heat. "Land sakes, Jimmy. Why, this is nothing," she said. But she smiled and her eyes lighted at Jimmy's appreciation of her well-filled table.
    Motioning them to the straight-backed chairs around the table, Uncle Wilmer