The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt by Walter Farley Page A

have been overjoyed at the prospect of another fast ride behind Bonfire. As it was, he couldn’t be very happy knowing there was still a race to be run.
    It wasn’t yet dark but the track lights were on, and the great stands were beginning to fill. There were many horses on the track, all working, and Alec paid attention to them only because of Bonfire’s eyecup. He had to be ready to close it any time a horse came up close on their right.
    Bonfire tossed his head a little. He was wearing the number 5 on his head now that they were on the main track. It was a raceway rule, just as it was a rule that the drivers be wearing their racing silks at this time. Alec glanced at the sleeves of his red-and-white jacket—Tom’s jacket and Jimmy’s colors.
    Bonfire was eager to go again, for his red coat was very wet; too wet, Henry would have said. Alec looked over at the stands, wondering if Henry was there.
    He knew Henry was right about Bonfire. Already the colt had done too much work. Through the lines Alec felt a lack of the sharpness that had been in Bonfire during the last mile.
    He turned the colt at the top of the stretch and took him down, giving him full line as they swept past the starting pole. At the same time he pushed down the stem of his watch, starting the sweeping second hand. Henry had always said that he didn’t need to carry a watch, that he had one in his head. But Alec didn’t want to take any chances at guessing Bonfire’s pace just now, with Jimmy demanding another 2:06 mile on the dot: “No slower, no faster.”
    Alec felt the sulky seat leap from under him as he asked Bonfire for speed. It seemed more alive than it had the first day he had worked Bonfire for Henry. The seat of the racing sulky was much closer to the colt’s hindquarters than that of the training cart, and Alec felt as though he were being carried along on Bonfire’s flying heels. He sat on the colt’s tail, leaned a little to the side so he could see the track, and went on.
    Around the half-mile oval they raced and whipped past the stands again, going into the second lap. Alec glanced at his watch and kept Bonfire down to the same speed. When they had gone three-quarters of a mile he looked at the watch once more, and then let the colt out another notch.
    Bonfire quickly responded and came flying off the back turn into the homestretch. All the way down to the finish line he demanded more rein from Alec. But Alec held him in, completing the mile in the time Jimmy had ordered.
    A little later he drove Bonfire through the paddock gate. Jimmy took the colt’s bridle, saying, “Nice going, Alec. Now we’re all set to race.”
    Alec wondered. He’d know for certain in about forty minutes, when they went to the post. He’d know the second they stepped onto the track again and he felt Bonfire through the lines.

T HE O LD H AND

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    The paddock bell sounded and the gate to the track was opened. Over the public-address system came the bugle call to the post, and then the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the horses are now coming onto the track for the first race of the evening’s program.”
    Jimmy Creech removed the worn white cooler with the badly faded red borders from Bonfire’s back. He stepped away. “Good luck, Alec.” He watched Bonfire pass through the gate, the fifth horse in the field of eight.
    Jimmy carefully folded the blanket, and then pressed it lovingly against his scrawny chest. Everything else for Bonfire was newly bought and slick and polished—the black harness, the red hood, and the sulky with its glistening wheels. But the old blanket held many fond memories, and tonight, as in races long since past, it would bring luck to his horse, even though he wasn’t up behind this colt, the finest of them all!
    He turned to watch the marshal who rode thecolorful palomino horse at the head of the post parade. He noted with