The Black Stallion

the mobile starting gate," the announcer said.
    Nervously, Tom turned Bonfire to go down the stretch for their first score. The colt snorted, then bolted. Quickly Tom's hands moved down the lines; there was a shortening of stride as Bonfire obeyed Tom's hands. Angry with himself, Tom settled back in his seat and never looked at the crowd again. This was no more than another fair race, despite the people, lights and glitter. What won at the fairs would win here. But he must give Bonfire his chance. He must make no mistake.
    All the way down the stretch, Tom saw and heard only his colt. And when he stopped to turn him back again, he knew that he and Bonfire were ready together.
    He was taking the colt past the paddock gate when he saw the commotion there. The guard was struggling with someone, who finally evaded his arms. It was George, and he was halfway to Tom when the guard caught up with him again. But George waved the yellow paper he held in his hand and shouted to Tom, "
Jimmy is all right! He's okay, Tom
!"
    Tom only had time to wave his hand to indicate he had heard before the guard pulled George away from the track.
    All the way back past the grandstand, Tom thought of Jimmy Creech. He'd be a well man now! He'd be himself again!
    But the moment Tom turned Bonfire down the track for his second warm-up he forgot Jimmy Creech, forgot everything but the muscles sliding beneath the red coat in front of him.
    Back at the mobile starting gate awaiting them at the head of the homestretch, Tom brought Bonfire alongside Princess Guy. He turned to Miss Elsie to smile at her, but the woman never looked at him. She continued her low humming to the black filly. Miss Elsie had word for no one now but Princess Guy. Neither did the gazes of the other drivers waver from their colts. They were ready for the race.
    The white limousine was drawn up at the far side of the track, and the wings of its gate were closed, allowing the field to go by. When all had passed, the starter motioned his driver to pull out to the center of the track and to open the wings of the gate.
    Tom took Bonfire a little farther back than the others, for he was to follow them. Turning the colt around, he saw that the others were all in position and going toward the mobile gate. Nine horses stretched far across the track as they moved down to the barrier. Tom took Bonfire over to the rail, close behind Miss Elsie.
    Slowly the limousine started moving and the horses followed the gate.
    "Easy! Easy!" the starter called to the field. "Slow down! You're all coming too fast!"
    And they were, Tom saw. All the horses in the line ahead were pushing their noses close to the gate. Each driver was anxious to get away. They were going to fight for the lead—all of them!
    Bonfire sensed the eagerness of horses and drivers, and his pace quickened. Tom slowed him down; there was no place for them to go—not yet.
    The limousine ahead moved a little faster, and Tom kept Bonfire's head close to the orange-and-blue silks Miss Elsie wore.
    "Mr. Lunceford, keep your position!" the starter called.
    Tom glanced at heavy-set, chubby-faced Frank Lunceford and knew that he was even more eager than the others to get his golden chestnut colt, Victory Boy, away first from his number 5 position. Lunceford had moved closer to the driver on his left, forcing the others to move more toward Miss Elsie and the rail. But Miss Elsie ignored the spinning wheels of Ray O'Neil's sulky on her right and didn't give way an inch; she was in a good spot, bringing her black filly down just a few short feet from the rail.
    Tom knew that no one would beat Miss Elsie to the turn, for no horse in the fast-moving line could match Princess
    Guy's speedy break—none except, perhaps, Silver Knight. The gray colt might stay with the filly. In a few seconds now he'd know.
    Princess Guy and Silver Knight.
    Tom was certain it was these two Bonfire would have to beat. So he forgot about Lunceford and the rest of the field. He'd go along with the black filly at the break and she'd lead him out in front.
Just follow Miss Elsie. Just follow Miss Elsie
.
    Like a tremendous and powerful incoming wave, the line of horses increased their speed behind the fast-moving gate. The grandstand spectators rose to their feet at the rushing pound of hoofs. As a team the country's top two-year-olds swept beneath the lights of the starting line.
    "GO!" shouted the starter.
    To the shriek of the drivers, Tom let Bonfire go behind