The Black Stallion's Courage Read Online Free

their eyes so bug-eyed at the sight of the famous stallion that they have completely ignored the boy at his side, Alec Ramsay. No animal has ever enjoyed such a triumphant journey to or from a racetrack. The Black’s ride will end this morning on a railroad siding at Pimlico, where he’ll get down to work.
    There will be fanfare here too, of course, but of a drastically different kind. The eyes of professional horsemenwill be scrutinizing the Black, looking for signs of his having filled up in front, as retired stallions usually do, and for heavy quarters that would weight him down—both of which would handicap him in his comeback. They know that the older a horse gets the harder it is to bring him back to winning form, and most of them say they wouldn’t want the job
even with the Black
!
    But Hopeful Farm’s trainer, Henry Dailey, isn’t listening to anyone but himself. He’s convinced that the Black can be brought back and will be ready for several of the country’s richest handicap races, probably in New York. Our reference to the heavy gold hanging from the finish wire is not unintentional, for the need of it is what brings back the Black for another try. As you know, Hopeful Farm lost its most valuable barn in a fire this week. It was not insured, and $100,000 is needed to replace the structure by next fall.
    This kind of folding money may not seem very hard to get when Hopeful Farm has such a deadly racing duo as the Black and his three-year-old daughter, Black Minx, who is fresh from her great triumph in the Kentucky Derby. With the filly taking steady aim at the Preakness to be raced here next Saturday she may not need any financial assistance from her famous old man. But it looks as though the two magicians, Henry Dailey and Alec Ramsay, aren’t taking any chances of their broodmares staying out in the cold this winter. They’re brewing up another pot of that old black magic. We’re glad to have been invited to dinner. Won’t you join us?
    Henry Dailey was the first to enter the railroad car at Pimlico and shortly thereafter he came down the ramp leading Hopeful Farm’s stable pony, Napoleon. The Black seldom traveled anywhere without the old gelding and the photographers lifted their cameras to take pictures of him.
    â€œHold him still a minute, Henry,” one called.
    Napoleon stepped from the ramp with all the careand pride of a wealthy old gentleman being helped from his limousine by his chauffeur. He tugged a bit upon the lead shank, seeking more line so that he might raise his head still higher. He turned toward the cameras, his heavy ears pricked and very still. His round, butter-fat body was relaxed; his wise old eyes disclosed that he was well aware of what was going on and that he knew just how important he was as the Black’s stable companion.
    â€œStraighten up, Henry,” another photographer called. “You’re more sway-backed than he is.”
    â€œNaturally,” the trainer answered. “I’ve been around a lot longer.” Henry’s bared head was whiter than Napoleon’s coat and a lot thinner. He didn’t smile at the remark that he’d made jokingly and he
did
make an effort to straighten up. It was getting more and more difficult to do that these days.
    He was old, of course, but he didn’t like to be reminded of it, Henry decided. The trouble with most people his age was that they kept thinking about how old they were and they never got anything done. His large, rugged hands gave a soft jerk to the lead shank. “Stop posing, you conceited old plug,” he told Napoleon. “None of this is for you. In fact, just havin’ your homely old face around again isn’t going to help my morale any.”
    Napoleon lowered his big head and his ears wobbled and then fell forward as if from their own weight. Henry rubbed the gray’s muzzle. “Forget it,” he said apologetically.