“Glad to do it,” Jake replied. “Guess Henry knows my weakness. When he said you had a champion, I had to see for myself.”

“You’ll never change, Jake.” Henry laughed.

“ ’Fraid not.” The old man grinned.

The Black tossed his head, and the night breeze blew his mane. “He’s rarin’ to go, Henry,” Alec said.

“Okay, I’ll get the saddle.” Henry moved toward the truck. “Stick around, Jake,” he said over his shoulder, “and you’ll see the fastest thing on four legs.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not a-goin’,” Jake answered. “Come on, son.” He turned to Alec. “We’ll take him down near the gate.”

A few minutes later Henry came up and threw the saddle on the Black. The stallion pranced easily, then reared a little when Henry tightened the cinch. Alec and Jake put the bridle on him.

“All set,” Henry said, when they had finished. He turned to Alec. “Now the idea tonight, kid,” he said, “is just to get him used to the track. Lucky there’s a full moon so it isn’t so dark out there, and I don’t think you’ll have any trouble seeing. Keep him under control as much as you can—try not to let him have his head until coming down the homestretch, then if everything is okay, let him out for a few hundred yards. I’ve been waiting a long while for this! Before you start, walk him down a ways and back. Got it?”

“Right,” answered Alec.

Jake was leaning on the fence, his white head against the rail, his eyes on the stallion. He moved slightly and Alec saw the flash of silver in his hand. He knew Jake held a stopwatch.

Henry boosted Alec up on the Black’s back and adjusted the stirrups. His knees came up, and he squatted on the small racing saddle like a veteran. The stallion moved uneasily. Henry led him out on the track.

“Okay, son,” he said. “Walk him down and back first.”

The Black stepped quickly over the soft dirt, his head high, his eyes shifting from side to side. Alec reached over and patted his neck. “Take it easy, fella,” he murmured. The stallion wanted to run and Alec had his hands full keeping him to a walk. He went to the first turn and then came back. The night was warm, and as they approached Henry, Alec pulled off his sweater. “Save this till I come back.” He tossed it to Henry, and walked the Black a few yards past him.

“Here goes,” he said as he whirled the Black around.

The stallion reared. The boy clung to his neck, his white shirt standing out vividly against the Black’s body. Then the stallion bolted forward. Alec tightened the reins and held him in. Down the track they streaked, the stallion’s giant strides swallowing up the yards. Alec, high in his stirrups, hung low beside the Black’s neck. The wind blew in his face and tears streamed down his cheeks. They swung around the first turn and into the backstretch. Alec kept him close to the white fence. He still held the Black in, but never before had he gone so fast, except on the island.