The Black Stallion Challenged
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The Black Stallion is the fastest horse in America and he and his jockey, Alec Ramsay, are training for a big race. Suddenly there comes a new challenger: Flame! An unproven racer, the Island Stallion can run like the wind and his jockey, Steve Duncan, knows that Flame will give the Black the race of his life. But what neither Steve nor Alec know, is that these two stallions have met before, and they hate each other.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
makes him unpopular with other jockeys as well as the stewards.” “It should,” Alec said. “He almost put Charley Hancox in the infield yesterday. I don’t know how he got away with not being suspended.” “He’s a smart rider as well as a rough one,” Henry said. “He makes it difficult for anyone to claim a foul.” Alec shrugged his shoulders. “He sure does everything at a quick pace. I guess he wants to succeed in the United States in a hurry.” “He’s not alone,” Henry said. “There are plenty of
look unconcerned at Alec’s criticism and regain his position of authority. He didn’t like the way Alec was sizing him up. Alec was too composed while he was squirming inwardly. Maybe it was a sign of old age creeping up on him. Maybe it wasn’t a case of being as old as one felt but as old as one was. “I guess you’re right,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. We’ll help him all we can.” Alec smiled, trying to make it easier for his old friend. He thought he knew how the
that,” the old man said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, ill at ease. “It’s just that I don’t like the atmosphere,” he added a little defiantly. “I don’t either, not especially,” Alec said. “I’m not so sure about that. You’ve been over here before.” Henry tried to grin and almost succeeded. “You know,” he continued, bidding for more time, “you’re something like another rider I once knew. He’d been in and out of hospitals so often with race injuries that he got to liking the
Alec knew he was in perfect racing condition regardless of what Henry had told him. They walked through the quiet area, many of the stabled horses snorting and whinnying as they went by. Alec would have liked to walk every horse there. If all of them had the opportunity to pick grass in the open air, they’d be less likely to turn sour and sulk. As it was, most of the horses were kept in their stalls except when they were on the track and, as a result, were either too nervous or bad-natured.
happened before. The television cameras were on them, and the telecaster walked alongside as Alec rode the Black into the circle. The telecaster was telling his audience, “No racing fan with an ounce of blood in his veins could help but call this year’s Widener one of the greatest epics of all time. It was easily the greatest race this telecaster has ever seen or expects to see. It will, very probably, go down in the books as one of the greatest classics ever run on the American turf.” Alec