“Something must be wrong, Henry,” the youth shouted. “The door’s open!”

Henry grabbed the flashlight. “Yeah, I’ll go in, Alec. Y’stay here, just in case …”

Impatiently, Alec waited while Henry entered the barn. A hand swept nervously across his pug nose as he pinched his nostrils. There was a worried expression on his freckled face. If anything had happened to the Black! Then he heard the short neigh and the sound of the stallion’s hoofs against the floor. His tense body relaxed. Everything was probably all right. Looking around the yard, his gaze swept to the open field. It was getting light and already he could make out the high white fence at the north end. There was no one around. He tightened the belt holding up his corduroys and then pushed a hand through his red, tousled hair.

Turning on the lights, Henry appeared in the doorway. He beckoned Alec inside.

The Black was in his stall. He whistled softly when he saw Alec and shook his black mane, which mounted high, then fell low, like a crest.

“Find anything, Henry?”

“He was out of his stall. Someone’s been here … there’s been a fight of some kind. He’s sweated.” Henry ran a gnarled hand over the stallion’s body as it glistened in the bright light.

The Black moved nervously around his stall and didn’t quiet until Alec’s hand rested on the thin-skinned nostrils. “He seems to be okay though, Henry.”

“Yep.” Henry was quiet. In his hand he studied a long glass object wrapped in his handkerchief.

“What is it?” Alec asked.

“A hypo.”

“You mean a hypodermic needle?” Alec asked incredulously. “You found it here?”

“Yep … on the floor.”

“What’s it mean, Henry?” Alec moved away from the Black to get a closer view of the glass tube.

“Looks as if someone intended to use it on the Black.”

“Y’mean …” Alec’s heart thumped hard. “Henry, are you sure it hasn’t been used?”

“It’s filled. We’ll get the stuff analyzed today by the police and find out what it is. Maybe it’ll give us a clue of some kind.” He wrapped the needle in the handkerchief and said, “Also, there might be some fingerprints.…”

Alec moved over to the Black again. The stallion lowered his head and, rubbing it, Alec asked, “But why would anyone want to harm him, Henry?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Alec.” Then Henry added, “… perhaps better.”

“What do you mean?”

Henry moved over to Alec and placed a long arm on the stall door. “Well, here’s how I figure it out. The Black is a valuable horse since he beat out Sun Raider and Cyclone last June. There’s no doubt that he’s the fastest thing to set foot on any track here or abroad. Now to my way of thinkin’ there’s a good many reasons why somebody would want to steal the Black. He couldn’t be raced but he could be used for stud … that horse could do much to improve the bloodline of the American thoroughbred.…”