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man said. “Stronger than most. Straighter than most.”
    â€œAnd with his grandpappy’s star,” another man said. “Y’know, he just might be the one, at that.”
    â€œMight be,” still another onlooker commented cautiously.
    â€œHe’s got the body and the breeding,” the man who had first spoken said now. “Time will tell.”
    â€œOnly one way we’ll ever know,” one of the more cautious men pronounced dramatically. “And that is to see what he does on a racetrack. He must prove himself to packed and shouting stands. He must come out to the roll of drums. He must carry glistening silks. He must level away at the head of that long testing stretch and prove himself in battle with the fleetest of his contemporaries. Yes, the test of the racecourse is the only one that counts.”
    â€œThat’s a long way off yet,” another said, smiling.
    â€œNot so long.”
    Only the boy Danny remained quiet. He was much too busy watching this wonderful tableau. Was there anything to compare with the first few minutes in the life of a foal?
    The colt was nursing. Big and strong as he was, he needed his mother very much, not only for her life-giving milk but also for the warmth of her breath, her caresses, and her constant reassurance. And, tired and weak as Mahubah was, she gave him everything he asked for, licking his tousled coat while he nursed.
    The boy wondered if she had known what it was all about or whether her foal had come as a very pleasant surprise to her. And did she care what all these men had to say about her colt and about the great things they expected him to do? To her, he must appear strikingly beautiful, with no gauntness of body or awkward, stiltlike legs. To her, every movement he made must be a picture of flowing grace. And he would grow handsomer as he moved around where she could see him better.
    â€œAnd you, Danny, what do you think of him?” the foaling man asked finally.
    â€œI only know I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” the boy said quietly. “That’s all I know.”

Man o’ War

4
    Danny didn’t find school easy that day, knowing that Mahubah’s colt was waiting for him back at Nursery Stud. He told himself over and over again to take it easy, that the colt wasn’t going anywhere. The night before should have taught him the rewards of patience. It was the mark of a good horseman. Still, he wanted to learn it
fast.
    Thirteen hours after the colt had been born, Danny was back at the farm. He leaned on a paddock fence watching Mahubah being followed obediently by her son, who never let her get more than three or four feet away from him. The colt nuzzled her constantly to get something to eat, and when he wasn’t nursing he was rubbing his downy nose against her muzzle.
    â€œIt won’t be long before those funny legs of yours straighten out,” the boy called. “Then you’ll get a chance to see how fast you can move them.”
    The day was warm and Mahubah remained in the sun, avoiding the shadows at the edge of the paddock. Early springrains had brought the grass to a lush green and the ground was spongy beneath her hoofs. Her nameless colt darted around her, the blood dancing in his veins. His was a brand-new world and there was much to be discovered!
    The boy followed every movement of the colt. One of these days he would get this colt to come to him, enticing him with a carrot or an apple. But now he was best left alone with his mother. What a leggy, large-framed colt he was! And how much he looked like his father! But he’d be redder than Fair Play, much redder. Anyone could tell that even through the baby hair. And, man, look at that stride for a new foal! Big he was. Big and red. Big Red.
    It wouldn’t be long before they’d fit a halter to his head and start leading him around. But today, his first day, he was left free to feel the wind and sun for