"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." The jockey reached a tentative finger toward Incubus' nose. "Good horse," he said. "Good Incubus." "I think you're pretty nice yourself," Incubus murmured out of the side of her mouth. There was a stricken silence. Reuben Godlove's eyes narrowed. "That jockey who rode her the other day told me about your ventriloquism," he informed Watson. "Seems like a pretty cheap trick if you ask me." The others murmured agreement, color flowing back into their faces. "Anyhow, now that she's my horse," Godlove went on, taking possession of Incubus' bridle. "She's going to be trained serious." "Now?" Incubus asked Watson. "Later," he whispered back. "That ain't funny, Watson," Godlove assured him. As he led Incubus off she looked back over her shoulder and winked. "Mr. Watson," the jockey said, following him off the field, "you're not really a ventriloquist, are you? That horse talks, doesn't she?" Watson nodded. "You gonna let Godlove get away with her?" The boy's voice rose to a shrill squeak. "I'll claim her back in the next race." "Yeah, but you can't claim her back less'n you've entered another horse in the same race and you don't have another horse, do you, Mr. Watson?" Watson's jaw dropped. "I never thought of that! What'll I do?" "You've got to get another horse, Mr. Watson. Do you have enough money?" "Well, the purse from this race is almost two thousand, and I made another thousand betting on Incubus. And, of course, Godlove gave me four thousand for her. But that won't be enough to buy a decent horse and maintain him--expenses are terrific." The jockey chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I know what you can do," he said at length, "you can buy Prunella. She's set at a price of five thousand dollars but her owner's pretty disgusted with her--she has good lines but she finished last in twenty-seven starts--and I think you could have her for four thousand in cash."