"It smells just the same," I said. "Horses, leather and liniment!
Where's Très Jolie?"
"In the second stall," said Blister, pointing. "Wait a minute--I'll
have a swipe lead her out. Chick!"--this to a boy dozing on a rickety
stool--"if your time ain't too much took up holdin' down that chair,
this gentleman 'ud like to take a pike at the derby entry."
Like a polished red-bronze sword leaping from a black velvet scabbard
the mare came out of her stall into the sunlight, the boy clinging
wildly to the strap. She snorted, tossed her glorious head, and shot
her hind feet straight for the sky.
"You, Jane, be a lady now!" yelled the boy, trying to stroke the
arching neck.
"Why does he call her Jane?" I asked.
"Stable name," Blister explained. "Don't get too close--she's right on
edge!" And after a pause, his eyes shining: "Can you beat her?"