Jim climbed into the car. “Everything’s set,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later the train whistle blew.

“Chicago, here we come,” Alec shouted.

He tossed on his cot that night. The clattering of the wheels on the iron rails kept him awake. He heard the Black moving restlessly around in his stall. Alec rose and made his way quietly over to him. Henry’s and Jim’s deep breathing told him that they were both sound asleep. Napoleon, too, was sleeping.

The Black whinnied when he saw the boy. “Shh, fella.” Alec rubbed the stallion’s head.

The train rocked a little, and the Black shied. “Not any worse than a boat, though, is it?” Alec asked. The Black shook his head. For fifteen minutes Alec stayed with him. Then he gave a final pat. “Gotta try and get some sleep now, fella—we both need it.”

He went back to his cot and lay down. He dozed off. He was dreaming of the coming race. Then he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He had to quit thinking. He must get some sleep. He tried to concentrate on the rhythmic beat of the wheels on the rails. They seemed to say, “Chicago—Chicago—Chicago—” Alec dropped off to sleep.

The next thing he knew, Henry was shaking him. Both he and Jim were already dressed. “We’re almost there,” Henry said.

Alec pulled on his clothes sleepily.

“How do you feel, kid?” Jim asked.

“All right,” answered Alec.

“We’re entering the city limits now,” Henry said.

“How far is the track from the station?” Alec asked.

Jim looked at his watch. “About a forty-five-minute ride,” he said. “It’s five-thirty now; if the van I hired is waiting for us, we’ll be at the track by six-thirty at the latest.”

“Let’s hope it’s there,” Henry said. “It’ll be better if we can get to the track before any people start roaming around.”

The train pulled into the freight yards. Alec snapped the Black’s new blanket around him. Henry took care of Napoleon. As the train slowed down, Jim pushed the door of the car open. Trucks clattered beside the train. “Bad as New York,” Henry said.

“I’ll see if I can find our van,” Jim said, jumping off the train as it came to a stop.

The Black moved uneasily and Alec held him tighter. Henry moved Napoleon over closer to him. The stallion’s startled eyes gazed nervously out the open door, then quieted as Napoleon shoved his head toward him.

A van moved alongside the car. Then they heard Jim’s voice. “Back it up to the door,” he directed the driver.

A few minutes later Alec led the Black into the van, followed by Henry and Napoleon.

The early morning streets were deserted, and they made good time to the track. They passed the huge stands and then pulled into the gate entrance near the stables.

The gatekeeper hailed them. “What do you want?” he asked.

Jim spoke up. “I’m Jim Neville,” he said. “We’ve a horse here—for the race tomorrow.”