“Not a bad idea, Henry,” Joe answered. “I’ll get in touch with Jim this afternoon. When you going to run the Black again?”

“Tomorrow night,” Alec answered.

“If you can make it, you can meet us at the main gate at two o’clock,” Henry said.

“Say, this is just like a mystery novel,” Joe said as he walked toward his car. “But I’ll be there, and I have a feelin’ Jim will too! So long!”

“So long,” Alec and Henry called. The stallion raised his head and whinnied as the car rolled down toward the gate.

THE MYSTERY HORSE
15

The following night when Alec and Henry drove up to Belmont’s main gate, they saw Joe’s car parked there. Two men were inside. “That fellow with him must be Jim Neville,” Alec said hopefully.

Henry brought the truck to a stop and lightly touched the horn. “Leave your car here,” he called softly to Joe. “Jump on the truck—we’ve only a short way to go.”

The two men climbed out of the car and leaped onto the truck’s running board. Henry put the truck in gear as he saw Jake swing the gates open. Joe pushed his head in the open window near Henry. “Made it,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

“Hold tight, my friend. You’ll find out,” Henry said.

Five minutes later they came to a stop beside the track. Henry and Alec climbed out. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood beside Joe; his hat was shoved back off his forehead and Alec saw long streaks of gray running through his black hair. Somehow Jim Neville looked just as Alec had imagined he would. Joe introduced them.

After the introductions, Jim said, “Frankly,” and his eyes squinted quizzically, “it’s only the newspaper man in me that gets me out here tonight, because as much faith as I have in my pal Joe here, I can’t imagine any horse in racing—today anyway—that can match strides with Cyclone or Sun Raider!”

Henry smiled. “Sure,” he said, “I’d say the same thing if I hadn’t seen the Black run!”

Jim Neville looked questioningly at Henry. “Say, you’re not by any chance the same Henry Dailey who rode Chang to victory in all those races about twenty years ago, are you?”

“Sure he is!” Alec said proudly.

Jim Neville pulled his hat down over his forehead. Alec could see that once again he was the reporter on the scent of a story. “And you believe,” Jim said seriously, “that you’ve got a horse here that can beat both Sun Raider and Cyclone?”

“Yep,” Henry answered. “It’s Alec’s horse; I just help train him.”

Joe Russo spoke up. “Why not show him the Black, Henry, and then we’ll let him draw his own conclusions?”

“Good idea,” said Alec as he walked toward the back of the truck.

He led the Black out on the ramp. “Say,” he heard Jim exclaim, “he is a giant of a horse!” The stallion shook his head. He was full of life tonight for he knew well that he was going to run. His small, savagely beautiful head turned toward the group of men below him. He drew up, made a single effort to jump, which Alec curbed, and then stood quivering while the boy talked soothingly and patted him.