The Black Stallion

forward and he heard nothing but the racing hoofs ahead of him.
    Nothing would stop Bonfire. He would run the others down in his attempt to get by! The danger to all was only too evident to Tom. There was only one thing he could do to stop the racing colt.
    Quickly he removed his feet from the stirrups and placed them on the shafts of the sulky on either side of Bonfire. Leaning forward, he grabbed the colt's tail and drew himself up until his hands were on the sweated, moving hindquarters. For a fraction of a second he hesitated, then he saw the horses ahead and knew Bonfire would be on top of them in a second—or at the most two!
    His hands moved farther across Bonfire's back as his feet went up the shafts. He straddled the colt, then flung himself forward to reach Bonfire's head and bridle.
    It took only a touch from Tom for the colt to lessen his speed. Yet it wasn't any too soon, for when Tom had him under control Bonfire's head was above the rear wheels of two racing sulkies. To have gone any farther would have meant a bad accident. He brought the colt to a stop while the field drew rapidly away from them.
    Back at the stables, George said, "Your luck's still good, Tom, or you never coulda done what you did." Then he added confidently, "We'll make up for losin' this race at Reading."
    Tom hoped so, for Jimmy Creech needed money desperately now. And racing the colt was the only way to get it. He pulled Bonfire's head down close to him.

Reading Fair and Princess Guy
18
    At Reading, it was like coming home for Tom. It was the fair he knew best, and a warm, homey feeling glowed within him while he walked the tree-lined avenues. In the same barns and buildings were the same sleek brown-and-white Herefords, the black-and-white Holsteins, the short-necked coal-black Angus steers—all mooing or bellowing as they had done at previous fairs. And there were the goats and the pigs, the chickens and the roosters, the giant Percheron horses—all groomed glistening clean.
    All was the same, yet each year people came with the same amount of anticipation and eagerness. Never were they disappointed and they looked upon everything as though this was their very first fair. It had been that way at each and every fair Tom had attended during this long season. He knew it would never change.
    From the long outdoor restaurants not far from the high grandstand came the smells of roast beef and pork and sauerkraut—Pennsylvania Dutch cooking at its best. The men in front of the restaurants pleaded with people walking by to "Get your tickets for the races, then come in and enjoy the best hot roast beef and mashed potatoes you've ever eaten!
    "This is the place to meet your friends, folks. Come in, sit down and rest. See that lady leaving? She just told me she's full right up to the ears! She never tasted such good pork and sauerkraut. That's what we like to hear, folks! And that's what you'll be saying, too! It's cool and clean inside. So come along. Join us!"
    And there were the calls of the barkers of other concessions. Tom listened to them all.
    "Thirsty? Step right up here for some of our old-fashioned root beer made the way you like it! Hungry? Try our hot franks!"
    "Guess your age within two years, lady… or you get your pick of any of these valuable prizes!"
    "Hey! Hey! Hey! bingo. We're ready to start the next game, folks. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! You may be the big winner this game. Come in and try your luck!"
    The fairs get right inside of you
, Tom thought,
just as Jimmy and George said they did
. Turning to the track, he saw the horses working out. And far on the other side was the fair's midway with its red trucks and spinning Ferris wheels making a vivid-colored background for the bare racing strip of the track's backstretch.
    And, of course, Uncle Wilmer and Aunt Emma were there, making the Reading Fair seem even more like home.
    They had come early this morning, the day of George's and Tom's arrival with the colt. They planned to come to the fair every day, Uncle Wilmer had told Tom, and
"to hang
" with the money it would cost them. This year was extra-special to them. Besides, just to look at that colt standing in his stall was worth every cent of admission to the fair.
    And when Tom had worked Bonfire, Uncle Wilmer said, "Just watchin' him is something nobody could set no price on! He's a real 'goer,' that colt is!"
    That night, Tom and George went back to the farm with Uncle Wilmer and Aunt Emma. When they went over