Henry paused again. “You see, Alec,” he said, “I’m telling you this to show you that if there is only one thing that I do know anything about it’s whether a horse is any good or not—and let me tell you we can make the Black the greatest racer that ever set a hoof on any track!”

Henry closed the book with a sharp crack and placed it back inside the trunk. He rose to his feet and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What do you say, son—are you game?”

Alec looked at the old man and then toward the open door where he could see the Black in the distance. “It would be great, Henry!” he said. “And I know he would give any horse in the world a real race—if we can just keep him from fighting.”

“It’ll be a tough job, Alec, but it’s going to be worth it to see him come pounding down the homestretch!”

“Where can we train him, Henry?”

“We can’t do much until spring, Alec—just let him get used to it around here. You can ride him around the field and I’ll teach you all the tricks I know. We won’t be able to do much else with him with winter coming on. I don’t think we’ll even bother with a bridle and saddle yet—we’ll wait until early spring for that, too. By that time we shouldn’t have much trouble putting them on him. Then I think I can find a way to get him over to Belmont for some workouts on the track—that’s when the real training begins!”

“Sounds swell, Henry! Do you think I’ll be able to ride him in the races?”

Henry smiled. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that horse isn’t going to let anyone else ride him.”

As they walked toward the door, the loud drone of an airplane filled the air. “That fellow’s awfully close to the ground!” said Alec. “His motor seems to be missing, too!”

They ran outside and saw a plane flying low over the barn; its motor stuttered and then caught again, shattering the early morning stillness with a deafening roar. “He’s got it!” said Henry.

But Alec wasn’t watching the plane now; he had heard something above the plane’s roar. The sharp, piercing whistle of the Black! Alec saw the stallion rise on his hind legs and wheel in the air, running at breakneck speed down the field.

“Look, Henry!” Alec shouted. “The Black!” The stallion was nearing the end of the field, his pace never slackening, his long, black mane whipping behind him like waves of smoke.

“Lord!” said Henry. “The plane scared him! He’ll kill himself on those rocks!”

“He’s not going to stop, Henry!” Then they saw the Black gather himself, and, like a taut, powerful spring just released, sail through the air and over the fence.

“Seven feet if it’s an inch!” exclaimed Henry. “Come on, we’ve got to get him!” Together they rushed down the field. They saw the Black in the distance—then he was out of sight! Suddenly Henry stopped. “I’ll go back and get the car, Alec. You keep after him!” he said.