Gabriel took the lump of sugar from the girl’s hand and munched it contentedly. Then he pleaded for more.
“No, sir,” said Shirley, stepping back. “One lump is all you get; you should know better than to ask for more. If Dad knew I had given you even one, he wouldn’t like it.”
She stepped farther back and surveyed the animal with a critical eye.
“And so,” she said, speaking to Gabriel, “you are going to win the Derby for Dad and me this year.”
She patted him affectionately upon the head and stroked his mane. Gabriel rubbed his head up and down against her arm.
“Come, Shirley,” said Mabel at this juncture, “don’t stand there talking to Gabriel all day. We must pay our respects to some of the other horses.”
“All right,” her friend agreed and, giving Gabriel a parting pat, she followed her friend from the stall.
All along the length of the stable the heads of other horses appeared above their stall doors as the two girls passed along, and everywhere they were greeted with whinnies of welcome and delight; for there was not a horse there who did not love the two girls.
But of all the horses in her father’s “string,” Shirley loved Gabriel most, for he was her own personal property. Descended from a long line of distinguished and powerful racehorses, Gabriel had been presented to Shirley by Mr. Willing when the horse was nothing but a colt. His pedigree was of the best, and now, in the approaching Derby to be run in Louisville the following month, Shirley and Mr. Willing both looked to him to maintain the supremacy of the Willing stable.
Besides Jimmy Smith, Mr. Willing’s diminutive sixteen-year-old jockey, none but Shirley had ever sat upon Gabriel’s back. Many had tried, but the result had always been the same. A quick leap to the saddle, a few stiff bucks and jumps by Gabriel, and the would-be rider was rolling on the ground.
But now when Shirley decided upon a little run, Gabriel always received her with joy and was as gentle as a kitten while she rode him. They often had long gallops together, and were the best of friends.
Gabriel was now three years old, and had been entered for the Derby. There was no doubt in Shirley’s mind that he would be the first under the wire at the end of the mile-and-a-quarter run in Louisville, when the great day, August 31st, arrived.