“Don’t you worry about that, Alec,” Pat answered.

When they returned to the boat, Alec made his way to the captain’s office. He found him behind his large desk working over some papers in front of him. He looked up, motioned the boy to sit down and continued writing. Finally he stopped and sat back in his chair.

“Well, son,” he said, “we’ve come to the parting of the ways, haven’t we?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Alec. “Pat and I got the money and everything all right.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and drew out some change. “But this is all I have left. You see, sir—well, Mother and Dad didn’t know about the Black, and what they sent was just enough to get us both back to New York.”

“And now you’re thinking about what you owe us, aren’t you?” the captain interrupted.

“Yes, sir,” replied Alec. “If it hadn’t been for you, we’d probably still be back on the island.”

The captain got up from his chair and walked over beside Alec. He placed an arm on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry about us, son. We don’t expect anything—and you and that horse gave us more excitement around here than we’ve had in years.” He smiled, and they walked toward the door. “You just see that you get the rest of the way home safely, and that’ll be fine!”

“Thanks, Captain,” Alec said as he went out onto the deck.

“And don’t let anyone steal that black devil from you either!”

“I won’t, sir, and thanks again,” replied Alec.

The next afternoon he walked the Black down the gangplank. He had a firm grip on the stallion’s halter, and kept talking soothingly to him. The ship that was to take them home had arrived during the night and was now being loaded with cargo. Pat and some of the sailors gathered around him as he reached the dock.

One by one they said good-bye, until only Pat remained. “So long, Alec,” he said. “Take good care of yourself.”

“You bet,” answered Alec. “And remember, Pat, whenever you get to New York, you promised to look us up.”

“Sure, some day perhaps …” He paused. “What are you going to do with the Black when you get him home?”

“I don’t know, Pat; I haven’t given it much thought. I just hope Dad and Mother will let me keep him.”

Pat was looking at the stallion. “He’s built for speed. I’ll bet he could tear up a track.”

“You mean—race?” asked Alec.

“Perhaps. Eight years ago, before I went to sea, I trained some pretty good horses in Ireland. I’ve never seen any that looked more like a runner than this one!”

“You can bet your last penny on that,” Alec said. Memories flashed back of his breathtaking rides on the island. “Well, Pat, I have to go now, they’ve almost finished loading over there. Good-bye.” He held out his hand and the other grasped it.

“So long, Alec,” he replied, “and good luck!”