Alec led the Black out of his stall, without removing his blanket. The stallion stepped skittishly, his hoofs shaking the barn floor.

“Hey, Alec,” Henry cautioned, “try to get him to stand still! He’s going to wake the Missus sure as shootin’!”

“I’ll try, Henry,” the boy answered. “He seems pretty nervous, though; guess he isn’t used to being awakened in the middle of the night!” The Black looked back at Napoleon and whinnied as Alec led him toward the barn door. Then Henry closed the door behind them.

Suddenly Napoleon neighed inside the barn—louder than either of them had ever heard him before.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” said Henry, as he ran toward the barn. “We’ll never get out of here without waking someone up!”

The Black raised his head high in the air, his ears pitched forward, and he answered Napoleon’s call. Alec looked at him, then at the barn.

“Henry,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got an idea. Why not take Napoleon with us? The two of them can fit into the truck—and I’ve a feeling it’ll make the Black a lot easier to handle, besides being a lot quieter.”

Henry looked thoughtfully at the restless stallion. “Okay,” he finally said. “It’s worth trying.” A minute later he led Napoleon toward the truck.

The Black neighed softly when he saw him, and Alec had no trouble getting him up the ramp into the truck. Henry followed with Napoleon. “Now,” said Henry, “we not only have to get this moving van back to the guy I borrowed it from before six, but we have to get Napoleon back to Tony as well!”

“It’s only one-thirty now,” Alec said.

“We have to be over there by two.” Henry climbed into the driver’s seat and Alec sat beside him. A minute later the truck was moving down the driveway. Only the sound of hoofs came from the back of the van.

Henry drove rapidly through the darkened streets, and half an hour later they pulled up in front of a high iron gate. He touched the horn lightly twice. Over the gate Alec made out the name BELMONT. A glimpse of white caught his eye. Two hands grasped the bars, and a head topped with snow-white hair peered through.

“That you, Henry?” an aged high-pitched voice asked.

Henry leaned far out over the side of the car. “Yeah, Jake—it’s me,” he answered softly. “Everything okay?”

“Okay,” came the answer.

Alec heard the rattle of keys, then the turning of the lock. A moment later the gate swung open. Henry put the car in gear and drove through. The gate was closed behind him. Henry didn’t stop; he drove as if he knew his way around.

“Who was that, Henry?” Alec asked.

Henry kept his eyes on the graveled road in front of him, but Alec noticed a slight smile on his lips. “That’s Jake,” he answered. “We’ve been pals from ’way back. In fact,” he grinned, “Jake taught me to ride. I was just a kid who loved horses and I wanted to ride, but I’d never even been on a horse. I used to go around and watch the early morning workouts, dreaming of the day when I’d be out there on some thoroughbred. Jake was a well-known jockey then—and I guess I sorta idolized him, but then all the kids did. Well, I guess Jake took me in hand just because he couldn’t get rid of me. Anyway, he taught me ’most everything I know—and if I’ve been a success, he’s the reason for it. Jake later went into training horses—and now he’s sorta, well—retired, I guess you could call it.”