"Sure do. Shall I let him live afterward?"
"Yeah, let him live. Just make it uncomfortable for him.... Now look here, sonny." This to the new jockey. "She doesn't like the whip. You saw what she did to her last boy?"
The jockey nodded and gulped.
"All you have to do is sit on her and let her go where she wants. Then you'll be all right."
"I wooden even get near her," the boy said, "if I didn't have an aged mother to support."
The starter waved the yellow flag and the horses were off. Incubus raced neck and neck with Pamplemousse until they were a furlong from the finish line. Then she surged ahead to win by five lengths. When she rode into the winner's circle the crowd booed, as is their pleasant custom with winning horses and jockeys.
"A popular figure, eh?" Incubus sneered. "Tcha!"
"Y'know, Mr. Watson," the jockey said as he was assisted from the horse with a dazed but beatific smile on his face, "I'm so steamed up over this win I even thought Incubus was talking to me."
The men standing around laughed. "You've let excitement go to your head," Godlove remarked. "Personally I would never hire a jockey who has no emotional equilibrium."