Blair had continued to feel an almost wild solicitude about Alabaster, and to regard him more and more as a horse of destiny. Nothing could shake this belief, not even when Alabaster suddenly developed in training the most diabolical temper that could be imagined. This, Blair professed to believe, was another guarantee of Alabaster’s speed and endurance; he declared he had never known one of those devilish horses that was not invincible on the race track. But here a serious difficulty occurred. The horse, being so watched and tended by Blair and Hilary, took the most vicious dislike towards the negro stablemen generally, and especially the boy that was to ride him—for most of the jockeys in that part of the world were negro boys. Hilary was the only person that could ride him, and even then he would sometimes kick and bite and plunge furiously; but there was no getting Hilary off a horse’s back, as Alabaster found out. In those days in Virginia the boys rode almost before they walked, and amused their adolescence by riding unbroken colts barebacked.
They rode like Comanche Indians or Don Cossacks. Occasionally an accident happened, but it was regarded in the light of falling downstairs, or slipping upon the ice, or any other unlooked-for dispensation.
Although Skelton and Blair hated each other and made no disguise about it, yet it was not the fashion for gentlemen to quarrel, and so they kept on terms scrupulously. Blair had called upon Skelton a second time, and Skelton was waiting until after the spring race meeting was over and Jaybird had distanced Alabaster before returning the visit. On the occasional Sundays when they met at church, both men talked together civilly enough in a group. Skelton had heard of Alabaster’s sudden demoralisation, and Blair knew it; but Blair had a trump left to play before the final game. One Sunday, soon after this, Mrs. Blair having wheedled Blair into going to church, and Skelton happening along, a number of gentlemen were standing about the churchyard, and some talk about the coming match between Jaybird and Alabaster was indulged in. The deepest interest was felt in this match, and nearly every man in the county had something on it. Blair had so much on it, that sometimes the thought of it drove the ruddy colour out of his face when he was alone and in a reflective mood. And then came in that sudden change in the horse’s temper, and Blair made up his mind that Hilary should ride the horse. The boy was, of course, much more intelligent than the negro jockey, and was, in fact, one of the best riders in a county where everybody rode well. Mrs. Blair made no objection—she saw too plainly the necessity for not throwing away a single chance—but she was unhappy at the idea that her fresh-faced stripling should be drawn into the vortex.
Blair mentioned this, talking with Skelton and half a dozen men listening.
“Alabaster has got a devil of a temper,� he said frankly, “but my boy Hilary can manage him—that is, as far as anybody can. I think Hilary could keep him in a straight course. Of course, I don’t say he can hold the horse—the chap’s not yet fifteen—but nobody can, for that matter. Alabaster has a mouth of iron, and he knows what other horses don’t know—that nobody can really hold a horse who hasn’t got a mind to be held. But with Hilary it is simply a question of sticking on him and heading him right, and the youngster can do that.�
“Do you apprehend any danger?� asked Skelton.
Blair laughed pleasantly, showing his white teeth.
“Well, I’d apprehend some danger for myself. I weigh a hundred and two-and-sixty, and if the creature landed me unexpectedly in the road it would be a pretty heavy fall; but as for the boy, why, Alabaster could no more get rid of him than he could throw a grasshopper. I would be perfectly willing to back Alabaster with Hilary up against Jaybird with your young friend Lewis Pryor—that is, if you do not apprehend any danger.�
“Done!� said Skelton calmly. He had been caught in a trap, and he knew it; but as Blair had never hesitated to accept a challenge from him, so he would not under any circumstances refuse a challenge from Blair. Of course, he at once saw the drift of Blair’s remark—it was malicious, to bring Lewis forward, and, besides, it was extremely unlikely that he should be so good a rider as Hilary Blair. Nevertheless Skelton said:
“Lewis Pryor has not ridden barebacked ever since he was born, like your boy, but he has been well taught in the riding schools, and he is naturally as fine a rider as I ever saw. Jaybird isn’t vicious; it is more intelligence than anything else in riding him. I think I can trust Lewis farther than the negro boys that do duty here for jockeys. They can ride very much as you say your boy can, but as for any intelligent management of a race, why they are simply incapable of it.�