Jake came up and Henry introduced him to Joe and Jim. “Say,” Jake smiled, “this is growin’ into quite a shindig, isn’t it?”

Jim walked carefully around the stallion.

“Watch out. He might kick, if you get too close,” warned Alec. “He doesn’t know you.”

“Don’t worry! I won’t get too close to this fellow,” Jim said. “I’m beginning to see what you fellows mean,” he added. “If he can run as well as he looks—”

Henry disappeared into the truck and came out leading Napoleon.

“Hey, what’ve you got here—another champion?” Jim threw back his head and howled.

“This is Napoleon.” Henry grinned.

“He has sort of a quieting effect on the Black, so we always bring him along,” Alec explained.

Jim Neville watched as Napoleon reached his nose up toward the stallion’s. “Maybe not such a bad idea, after all,” he said.

A few minutes later they boosted Alec into the saddle. The Black pawed the ground. Jim Neville got too close and the Black’s teeth snapped as he tried to reach him. Henry held him back. It was plain to see he wasn’t used to seeing so many people around at one time. He tossed his head up and down, his heavy mane falling over his forehead. Suddenly he rose on his hind legs, tearing the bridle out of Henry’s grasp; his legs struck out, hitting Henry in the arm.

Alec pulled hard on the reins and jerked him to the side. “Black!” he said. “Down!” The men retreated quickly to a safe distance. Jake was rolling up Henry’s sleeve, which was wet with blood.

“Did he get you bad, Henry?” Alec asked.

Jake and Henry were inspecting the wound. “Nothing broke,” answered Jake. “Just a bad cut; we’ll go up to the First Aid Room and fix it!”

“No, we won’t,” Henry said. “I came down here to watch this workout and I’m going to see it. I’ll take care of this later—you gotta take more’n a cut in this business.”

“He sure is a devil!” Jim Neville yelled from the other side of the Black.

“We got him excited, that’s all,” answered Henry. “First time he’s done that to me.”

Again the stallion reared and Alec brought him down. “Get him out on the track, kid,” Jake yelled.

The Black pranced nervously as they went through the gate. Once again Alec felt his body grow warm with excitement. He patted the crest on the stallion’s neck. “We’re off, fella,” he said. Alec looked back at the small group of men behind him. They were all leaning on the fence, watching eagerly.

Joe Russo’s voice drifted toward him. “That kid’s not going on any picnic,” he said.

Alec grasped the reins still tighter and leaned over until his head touched the stallion’s. He knew full well the danger that was his every time he rode the Black, especially when he let him loose on the track. The stallion would never hurt him knowingly, but once he got his head he was no longer the Black that Alec knew—but once again a wild stallion that had never been clearly broken, and never would be!