The Black Stallion

there was no difference. Strategy that won races at fairs would win them here.
    The lights went on throughout the grandstand, and George said, "One dash an' it's over for them. No more heats… nothin'. Just pick up their purse money and look forward to another race."
    "You can't make any mistakes in a dash," Tom said.
    "No," George agreed. "You get no chance to get back at 'em in the next heat like you do at the fairs." He paused to look at the horses still on the track, their drivers awaiting the results of the photo finish. "That old boy was right up with the young fellers," he said.
    The picture was developed and the results of the first race were announced to the crowd.
    "The old fellow didn't win it," Tom said afterward.
    "No… they pushed him back," George replied. "These young fellows make up for their lack of experience by takin' more chances. You'll have to watch 'em, Tom, on Saturday."
    Suddenly the announcer said to the packed throng, "Your attention, please." A hush settled over the stands, and he went on: "We would like to call your attention again to the feature race on Saturday night's program. It's the Two-Year-Old American Championship Race! Ten of the nation's top two-year-olds will meet in one dash for a ten-thousand-dollar purse. The field includes Silver Knight, Phillip Cox's outstanding gray colt, heralded by many who have seen him race this season here at Roosevelt as the wonder colt of the decade. Matching strides with Silver Knight will be Princess Guy, the black filly which Miss Elsie Topper drove to a new world's record of two o three at the Reading Fair this week. Rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, that the meeting of Silver Knight and Princess Guy Saturday night will result in still a lower world record mark for two-year-olds!
    "You won't want to miss this race! So make your seat reservations before leaving the raceway tonight!"
    When the announcer had finished, Tom turned to George. "No mention of the other colts in the race… or Bonfire," he said a little bitterly.
    "Bonfire's record of two nineteen at the Port Royal Fair don't mean much to 'em," George returned. "Not when they're talkin' about two o three record colts."
    "But…"
    "Sure, I know, Tom. We ain't let Bonfire out. But we will Saturday night."
    Nodding, Tom turned to look toward the paddock where the horses were coming promptly onto the track for the second race. He couldn't see much over the heads of the people in front of him, so finally he turned again to George. "The announcer said there'd be ten horses in the race Saturday night. That's a big field, George."
    "Too big," his friend answered. "The track has room only for nine horses across it. It means whoever draws the number ten position will have to follow the others, racing behind the pole horse."
    "That won't be good," Tom said thoughtfully.
    "No, it won't. Not in a fast field like that one's going to be. You got to try to get out first with Bonfire, Tom. That way you can let him go… an' you won't have to worry about the drivin' of those guys behind you. Get Bonfire out front and keep him there. He'll stay there."
    "I know he will…
If
I can get him out."
    "Number ten position will be the only one to stop you from gettin' him out, Tom… and the chances are only one in ten that you'll draw that spot."
    "I hope our luck holds, George—for all of us and for Jimmy."
    "The luck of the draw," George muttered. "Tomorrow at noon we'll know."
    The next day, exactly at twelve o'clock, Bonfire was entered in the Two-Year-Old Championship Race. George turned over the five-hundred-dollar entrance fee to the race secretary, then stepped back in the office to make room for the other people who were entering their colts. He rejoined Tom and Uncle Wilmer in a far corner of the room, and waited with them for the entries to be finished and the draw for positions to begin.
    Miss Elsie was there, but she only nodded to them and did not speak. Phillip Cox entered Silver Knight, then joined his driver, Ray O'Neil. Cox gazed several times at Tom and George, as though trying to remember where he had seen them. Finally his glances ceased, and Tom knew that Coronet was too far removed from this Raceway and Cox's fight with Jimmy Creech too long ago for the wealthy sportsman to remember either. Not at this moment, anyway.
    Neither did the slender, long-legged Ray O'Neil remember them from the Reading Fair two seasons before, when he had offered Jimmy Creech a new wheel for the one