The Black Stallion

how, George?" Tom asked desperately. "Even if we win with the colt Friday—"
    "It only means a few hundred dollars, all right," Uncle Wilmer finished for him.
    Tom turned to his uncle. He appreciated his being there, but he hoped he wouldn't ask any questions. He didn't feel like shouting tonight, just so his uncle could hear.
    "There has to be a way we can do it," George said. "There's just got to…" And then they heard the singing commercial on the radio.
    Heigh-ho! Come join us here.
    To Westbury, Westbury,
    That's where you cheer
    The horses, the horses,
    a-racing each night
    Beneath the stars, under the lights.
    The singing stopped and the announcer said, "Yes, folks, the races at Roosevelt Raceway, Westbury, Long Island, are a treat for the whole family! It's a night beneath the stars, watching America's fastest horses. It's the big event of the country fair brought to the city, folks. So come one, come all to Roosevelt Raceway tonight. Post time for the first race is at eight-forty. And we're only forty minutes from Pennsylvania Station in New York City. So hop on a train tonight and join us! But if you can't come tonight, folks, be sure to come Saturday night. That's the night of the Two-Year-Old Championship Race! The foremost colts in the country, including Silver Knight and Princess Guy, who today shattered the world's record at the Reading Fair, will be racing for that
big
purse of ten thousand dollars. So make a date now to join us at Roosevelt Raceway Saturday night."
    When the announcer finished, George turned to Uncle Wilmer. "How far is it to New York City from here?" he asked quietly.
    "Never been there. But I reckon it's under a hundred miles."
    Tom saw the light in George's eyes. "George—"
    But George was on his feet and walking toward the issues of
Hoof Beats
piled on top of the corner cupboard. Taking the most recent issue, he thumbed through it until he found what he wanted; then he took his seat again, reading the magazine.
    The kitchen clock ticked noisily while Tom waited for George to finish reading.
    Finally George spoke, and his voice was so low it seemed as though he were talking only for his own benefit. "Entries are accepted up until noon the day before the race. That's Friday. Today's Wednesday. Entry fee is five hundred dollars. One dash. Winner to take seventy-five percent of purse. That's seven thousand five hundred dollars." He stopped muttering to remove from his pocket the small book in which he kept their account of money on hand. "I've got three hundred dollars which I've been goin' to send Jimmy. Two hundred more would do it. I got to get it."
    "I got two hundred dollars, all right."
    It was Uncle Wilmer who had spoken. Tom turned to him in amazement, not only because of his uncle's astounding offer of two hundred dollars but also because George's voice had been just above a whisper and his head had been buried in the magazine; Uncle Wilmer
couldn't
have read his lips!
    "George, you hear me?" Uncle Wilmer shouted. "I got two hundred dollars to race that colt against the best colts. He's no small-time colt! He's a champion! And I'm tired of readin' about this Silver Knight and that blamed filly Princess Guy! I want to see my colt beat 'em all!"
    George was on his feet. "You'll lend it to us, Wilmer? You'll give us a chance to help Jimmy with just this one race at the raceways without us ever tellin' him about it?"
    "I been sayin' that, all right," Uncle Wilmer shouted. "I got it right now." And he strode across the room to the corner cupboard.
    "Then you aren't deaf… stone deaf… at all," Tom said, when his uncle passed him.
    "I ain't sayin' a thing about not bein' deaf!" Uncle Wilmer shouted. But he turned quickly in the direction of the porch when he heard the soft creaking of the outer door and knew his wife was on her way to the kitchen. "Heh, Tom?" he asked, cupping an ear. "What you say?"
    George took the money from Uncle Wilmer, put it in his pocket, then turned to the boy. "Are you game, Tom, to try it… at night?"
    The boy nodded, and George said, "Then we'll head for Roosevelt Raceway tomorrow."
    "And I aim to be comin' along," Uncle Wilmer said. "I aim to see my money race, all right."

Luck of the Draw
19
    Tom never asked George what he thought Jimmy might do if he ever learned of their taking Bonfire to Roosevelt Raceway. George had said they'd never tell Jimmy, and Tom let it go at that. This was George's show, and he'd made the decision to go to the