The Black Stallion

said, "When a farmer eats, he eats."
    "It sure looks like it," George said, taking his seat. "It's hard knowin' where to start."
    "Start here," Aunt Emma said, passing him the fried chicken.
    They spent a long time at the table, and as Jimmy Creech ate, his spirits rose higher. Very often George would catch Tom's gaze and nod his head as though to imply that he had been right all along when he had said that all Jimmy needed were the colt and a good, hot meal.
    Eagerly Jimmy discussed the potentialities of the colt and how he would go about training him. He even went so far as to ask Uncle Wilmer if he'd like to take care of the Queen when he was ready to wean the colt from her a few months from now. "I want a good home for her while I'm busy with the colt," he told Uncle Wilmer. "And I won't be able to breed her again until I make enough money to pay the stud fee. You know, I didn't pay anything for the Black's service. My old friend, Henry Dailey, arranged that for nothing. He knew I couldn't pay. I'll pay him back one of these days."
    "The colt will help you do that," Tom said, helping himself to another ear of corn.
    "I hope so, Tom." Jimmy turned to Uncle Wilmer again. "Would you like the Queen, if I send her back in December?" he asked. "I'll be able to pay you a little for her keep."
    "No need to pay me anything," Uncle Wilmer replied, taking a long inspired reach across the table for the platter of chicken. "I'd sure like to have that mare around, all right; they don't come none better. An' I got a buggy in the barn; she'll save me enough gas money to more'n keep her for nothing."
    "That'll be good," Jimmy said. "She'll need the work to keep from getting soft."
    Tom's gaze was on his plate of food. He'd miss the Queen, but he knew Jimmy was right in finding a good place for her. It would be easier weaning the colt with the mare out of sight; and then, too, it wouldn't do her any good just to stand in her stall at Coronet. There weren't any fields around Coronet like Uncle Wilmer's pasture. The Queen would be happier here. And Uncle Wilmer would take good care of her; Tom was more certain of that now than ever before.
    Aunt Emma had served her mincemeat pie when George said, "If I'd been judge, you'd have won
first
prize."
    Tom was eating his second piece when he first became aware that Jimmy had been silent a long while. Looking at him, he saw the sudden tightness come to his face; Jimmy bit his lower lip and Tom knew he was in pain.
    "Jimmy," he said quickly. "You all right?"
    The man managed a grim smile. "Just a stomach ache; it'll go away." Then turning to Aunt Emma he added, "I'm not used to such good, wonderful food." But his hand went quickly to his stomach and he held it there.
    George rose from his seat to go to him, but Jimmy pushed him away. "You know it's indigestion, George," he said. "It'll go in a minute."
    But George turned to Aunt Emma. "Would you have any bicarbonate of soda? It helps."
    "I have baking soda—same thing," she said, hurrying to the corner cupboard. "Maybe he should lie down a while. Wilmer, show George where the spare bedroom is!"
    Jimmy made no protest when they guided him upstairs.
    An hour later Tom and George returned to find the dishes washed and his uncle and aunt sitting in their chairs.
    "How is he?" Aunt Emma asked with concern.
    "He's sleeping. He'll be all right in a little while," George replied.
    "Jimmy should see a doctor," Aunt Emma said.
    "I believe it," Uncle Wilmer agreed.
    "We have seen them," George said, "—a couple of times in different towns. They say it's indigestion or acid stomach an' give him powders; bicarbonate of soda is all it is. He's only had this stomach trouble a few times this season. The docs say it's livin' the way he does. Always on the go or worryin' about something. He'll be all right now that the racin' season is over, I guess; it usually works that way."
    "I hope so," Aunt Emma said. "But you keep your eye on him, Tom," she added, turning to the boy. "You make it your job to watch Jimmy. It isn't right he should have those pains."
    Tom nodded. "I guess I'll go upstairs and pack," he said. "We'll be starting early tomorrow, won't we, George?"
    "Yeah, Tom. Jimmy wants to get back to Coronet before dark."
    "Why don't you two sleep here tonight?" Aunt Emma offered. "We have room."
    Uncle Wilmer nodded, and Tom noticed for the first time that his uncle wasn't having any trouble hearing what was said, even though they hadn't raised their