Man O'War by Walter Farley

of the crowded stands, resplendent with military uniforms and women’s silken gowns andparasols. He could even smell the ladies’ perfume mixed with the scent of horses.
    The men from Nursery Stud unloaded in the area reserved for the sales yearlings. A news photographer was there to take pictures; otherwise the area was quiet and empty of visitors. Not until the following morning would the benches beneath the trees be filled with people ready to pass judgment and appraise the yearlings soon to go into the sales ring.
    Danny put Man o’ War into his assigned stall. The big colt was quiet and unaware of all the excitement in store for him. The boy ran a hand over him, roughing up the sunburned coat still more. For a short while longer Man o’ War would be completely his own. He didn’t look forward to the next day at all.
    Morning came sooner than Danny would have liked. It began at five o’clock with the racehorses going to the track for training. But the Nursery Stud area remained comparatively quiet. Fair Gain was stabled next to Man o’ War, and his old groom told Danny, “The clock runs people here same as anyplace else. Maybe even more so. From now till eight o’clock people jus’ hang over the rail or sit in the clubhouse watchin’ horses work. When that’s done, they come over here an’ look at yearlings. The afternoons they spend at the races, an’ night finds em buyin’ yearlings they might have liked in the mornin’. That’s the way it’ll go, Danny, right through Saturday. Then we’ll be free with no more colts to tend.”
    â€œMaybe,” Danny said hopefully.
    The old man raised his gray head to look at the boy. “No maybes about it, Danny. That’s the way it’ll happen, ’xactly.”
    â€œBut maybe they won’t like our colts,” Danny persisted.
    The old man laughed. “They be a skinny bunch sho ’nough, but they’ll sell.”
    â€œBut I heard that people buy only
fat
sales yearlings.”
    â€œFat and sleek’s the way they like ’em, boy. But ours are in good condition. They’ll see that, too. An’ they can see the bone structure of every las’ one of them … that’s important, too.”
    â€œThat’s for sure,” Danny said. You could see their bones, all right.
    â€œIf they hadn’t been sick an’ we’d had more time, they’d be as sleek an’ fat as the others,” the old man said. “But with their breedin’ they’ll sell anyway.”
    Danny was silent and the old man studied him carefully. “Don’t you go showin’ this colt to anyone in his stall, Danny. When they come around an’ want to look at him, you take him outside where he can be seen properly. A colt stands bad with his feet buried in straw an’ up one place an’ down another. Lead him out in the open where he can walk over a good, flat surface. An’ you stand at his left shoulder. Don’t you go walkin’ ’way ahead of him, pullin’ him along like. Hold the shank light but firm. Don’t let him stretch his neck or turn his head. He’ll look unbalanced if you do.”
    â€œI’ll remember,” Danny said quietly. And he made a mental note to do all the things he shouldn’t so his colt wouldn’t be seen to his best advantage.
    â€œYou ought to rub more gloss into his coat, too,” the old man went on. “He don’t look very polished this morning.”
    Danny nodded.
    â€œMos’ people buy a yearling on bloodlines, but how he’s made is important, too,” the old man went on. “They’ll study every part of him. That’s why it’s important you have him standin’ right.”
    â€œHe’s made right,” Danny said, turning to Man o’ War. “They’d be blind if they didn’t see it.”
    It was funny, he thought. Here