The Black Stallion

along."
    George seemed to have finished, so Tom spoke for the first time. "But do you think Jimmy is right about what he said of this Phillip Cox, that he'll only use Silver Knight to publicize his clothing company?"
    "Maybe so, maybe not, Tom. Maybe Jimmy's only half right. Phillip Cox may like horses all right an' just figures that if Silver Knight comes along and races well he'll get a little extra publicity for his company. I don't know. After all, Silver Knight might not even get to the races. A lot of high-priced yearlings don't."
    "I know, George," Tom said thoughtfully. "But I certainly agree with Jimmy that a person should be in this sport because he loves it and not because his company might get some free advertising out of it."
    "I do, too, Tom, and I'm hopin' with Jimmy Creech that folks don't lose track of the fairs with all this new popularity of the night raceways." George paused, then said with deep sincerity, "I only wish more people would come to our fairs. They'd get the feel of the horses then just as we do. You can't get that feelin' at any night raceway."
    "How do you know, George? Have you ever been to a night raceway?"
    "No, but I know it's not the same as watching 'em go at a fair. I just know it."
    When Jimmy returned to the track the following week, he looked a little pale but was in better spirits than Tom thought he'd be. That was Jimmy, all right, just as George said—up one moment, down the next. Jimmy never mentioned Phillip Cox and his high-priced gray yearling; in fact, he seemed to have forgotten all about them. Besides, there were other yearlings to think about now. He watched Miss Elsie work her black filly faster and harder.
    "She's it for Miss Elsie, all right," he told Tom. "Miss Elsie can turn that filly off an' on just like you do with the colt. But they're different. That filly don't even seem to be trying, but she's flyin', Tom. While with our colt—"
    "He just makes you dizzy watching him," Tom finished for Jimmy. "You know something is happening when he sprints."
    Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, that's what I mean. Two different kinds of yearlings to watch, but each havin' a world of speed." He stopped, then added, "But Miss Elsie is bringing her filly along fast—too fast for me. I like to give them more time to grow than Miss Elsie does."
    During the rest of November, Jimmy redoubled his efforts to teach Tom everything he could about driving in a race. Tom listened long and hard to Jimmy's instructions, and when he was alone with Bonfire, either in the stable or on the track, he went over and over all the lessons Jimmy was teaching him. There was a lot to learn, too much to absorb even in a few months or a few years. As Jimmy said, "It takes long years of practice and experience, Tom. Even I'm still learning. Something new is always coming up when you're in a tight spot."
    But there were fundamental lessons, and these Tom concentrated upon and learned quickly, for they were based on natural instinct and knowing your horse. His skill in handling the lines behind Bonfire increased under Jimmy's careful eye. His hands, wrists, arms and back developed and were strong. He learned to rate the colt's speed, taking him a quarter of a mile in the time Jimmy wanted; and never did he carry a stopwatch. He listened long to Jimmy's talks on track strategy during a race, and when he was alone with Bonfire on the track he pictured other horses racing against them. With the colt only jogging, he visualized all kinds of tight racing situations and then tried to get out of them. He took his colt up behind the imaginary lead horse, yet kept his eye warily on those coming up behind. And when he knew he might be pocketed by them, he pulled Bonfire out and made his drive for the wire. There were times when he let the colt set the pace and other times when he came up from behind and around. In his mind, he tried everything Jimmy told him he might expect in a race; and he repeated them over and over again until he was racing Bonfire even while he slept.
    Jimmy and George watched him with the colt and nodded their heads in approval. Everything was going well again, and everyone was happy. Then it happened.
    The first day in December they watched the huge red-and-white horse van drive down the road and stop at the next shed. Jimmy, George and Tom saw the lettering on the van at the same time. It was such large lettering that they had no trouble reading it:
    COX CLOTHING COMPANY STABLES
    "Phillip Cox,"