“But who’s going to ride him in a race like that?” Mr. Ramsay asked.

Alec tried to swallow, but nothing seemed to go down. “I am,” he answered softly.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it, Dad,” Alec said with relief. He knew it would be Henry answering his signal from the window.

Henry came in and removed his old brown hat. He gave Alec a knowing glance. “Evening, Mr. Ramsay,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Hello, Henry,” Alec’s father answered. “Glad you’re here. You must be in on this, too. Now tell me what the devil’s been going on between you two and the Black? I had a hunch something was up but I never dreamed it was anything as stupendous as this!”

“It’s quite a long story,” Henry said. Then for the next half-hour he told about the training of the Black, and Alec’s midnight rides at Belmont. Alec watched his father as he listened intently to Henry. How would he take it—he loved horses himself, but would he let him ride? It was a good thing Mom wasn’t here!

When Henry finished, his father turned to him. “Leave us alone a few minutes, will you, Alec, please?”

Alec nodded and climbed the stairs to his room. Henry looked at Mr. Ramsay. “You’ve got to let him ride in that race,” he said. “His heart and soul are wrapped up in it! Alec isn’t the same boy that you sent to India last summer. You know that as well as I do. But he’s a better man for it!”

“But, Henry, it’s such a dangerous race for him to go into—and on that wild horse!”

“Not any more dangerous than what he’s faced many times since that boat went down in the ocean. I’ve grown to know your boy pretty well within the last few months, and I can honestly say that he’s different from any of us. He’s found something that we never will, because we’ll never go through the experiences that he’s had to.” Henry paused a few seconds. “Besides,” he continued, “I’d be mighty proud to have a boy that could ride that black stallion—something, I’m certain, no one else in the world can do!”

Mr. Ramsay rose and walked across the room. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes; then he walked toward the stairs. “Okay, Henry,” he said. “I’ll tell Alec he can ride!”

Jim Neville telephoned Henry the next day to tell him that everything was all set for the Black. The shipping charges to Chicago for the three horses would be taken care of from the proceeds of the race, as would all the rest of the charges to and from the track. Cyclone and Sun Raider were leaving Monday or Tuesday, so they could get in a couple of workouts before the race.

Henry couldn’t tell him when the Black would be ready to leave; he had to ask Alec first.

“Whatever you do,” Jim said, “don’t run him over at Belmont any more. I’m trying to keep the mystery horse’s identity a secret, because if it ever got out you’d be swarmed with reporters and it would only make the last few days all the more hectic. The Black is going to have enough excitement as it is!” Jim paused. “You’re sure he’s in good condition, Henry?” he asked. “Boy, I’ve gone way out on a limb with him. Got to wondering whether I’d been dreaming about that night—that’s why I keep looking at this stopwatch in my desk drawer; it’s the only thing that restores my confidence.”