He began unwrapping the package, as Alec knelt beside him. The papers, brown with age, cracked and fell apart as he took them off. Inside was a small racing saddle and bridle. Henry gently lifted them out and looked at them. He didn’t say anything. A minute passed and then he reached down into the bundle again. Almost caressingly he drew out a blazing green jockey cap and shirt. Alec looked down into the bundle and saw a faded pair of riding pants and black boots.
Henry spoke softly. “Everything’s here—even my number.” He held the shirt in his hand. Around the sleeve still hung the white number 3. “Seems like only yesterday I wore ’em in the last race I ever rode.”
Henry stopped. Alec didn’t speak—he could tell from Henry’s face that once again he was living that race over.
“We went to the post,” the little man said, as if to himself. “It was the largest crowd ever to see the International Cup. They were all for Chang, too—he was the greatest race horse of the day. How they roared when we lined up. The other horses wouldn’t stand still. But nothing ever bothered Chang—he let the others do the frisking. He just waited quietly for the barrier to go up.
“I never saw the rest of ’em in that race. Chang leaped ahead at the start, and I gave him his head—we won going away.” Henry swept a hand across his eyes. “It wasn’t until he had come to a stop that he suddenly trembled, staggered, vainly attempted to keep his feet, then fell to the ground dead. The doctors never knew what actually killed him—finally said that it was a blood clot or something like that. I never knew what to believe. The only thing that mattered was that Chang was gone—but the record he set that day still stands.”
Henry stopped and his gaze turned to the Black.
“I never thought I would see a horse that could break that record—until now,” he said. The Black’s long neck stretched far over his stall door. He shook his head and whinnied.
Carefully Henry put the shirt back into the bundle and rose to his feet. He carried it over to the corner of the barn and placed it inside the trunk. Then he turned around and faced the boy. “There’s just one thing that stands in our way of putting the Black in a race, Alec.”
“You mean because he’s so wild, Henry?”
“No, I don’t mean that. By spring we should have him calmed down a bit. But I read in the paper just now of how you got the Black. You didn’t tell me this morning.”
“I was going to, Henry, but why does that stand in his way?”
“Only that you don’t have any record of who his sire and dam were, and, Alec, a horse must be registered to run in a race.”
Alec felt a sick feeling in his stomach—he hadn’t realized how much he had looked forward to seeing the Black race. “You mean, Henry, we have to find that out before we can put the Black on a track?”
“ ’Fraid so, kid,” Henry answered. Alec could see that he was as disappointed as himself. “Isn’t there any way you could possibly get that information?” the little man asked.
“I don’t see how, Henry. I know the name of the port in Arabia where he got on, but that’s all. Everyone on the ship was drowned, so there aren’t any records we could possibly get.”
Henry thought a minute. Then he said, “I’ll drop a line to a friend of mine in the Jockey Club. Maybe he can help us—some way.”
“Gee, Henry, I hope so!”
“We have all winter to try and find out,” Henry said. “Maybe they can trace him from the town or somethin’. He looks like too valuable a horse not to be registered in a Stud Book somewhere!” He walked toward the door. “Have to be gettin’ back now or the Missus’ll be comin’ down for me!” He stopped and put a hand in his pocket. He took out a piece of paper. “Wrote down what we need for the Black to eat, Alec,” he said. “After you get finished, you can go down to the feed store and get ’em. We can’t have the big boy eating all of Napoleon’s grain, you know.” He paused and his hand went once again inside his pocket. “Seein’ that we’re goin’ to work together, it’s only fair that I share some of the expenses, Alec, so I want to pay for this.”
“You don’t have to do that, Henry. Dad’s going to give me a regular allowance for the work I do around the house.”
Henry smiled. “Sure,” he came back, “and we’re going to need all the money we can get—it takes money to make a champion, y’know. And we can’t skimp on the Black’s food. That’s why we’re going to have to work together just like partners. C’mon now, take this money and beat it down to the store.” Henry shoved the money into the boy’s hand.
Alec looked from the old jockey to the stallion. “Okay, partner,” he said, smiling.
The next morning Alec went back to school. Whiff Sample and Bill Lee fell in beside him as he left the building at 12:30.
“What’s all this about you bein’ in a shipwreck and everything?” Whiff asked excitedly.
“Yeah, it was in the paper yesterday morning, and you even came home with a horse,” Bill finished.
“It’s the truth,” Alec answered. “And if you don’t believe me, come on along and I’ll show him to you. I’m going over to the stable now.”
“We sure will,” they answered together.
When they reached the barn, Alec saw Henry. “Hello,” he yelled.
“So you brought along some spectators, heh, Alec?”
Whiff’s and Bill’s eyes were turned toward the field where the Black grazed in a corner. “Gosh,” they said.
The Black raised his head when he heard Alec’s voice. His ears pricked forward and he whistled. Alec whistled back. Suddenly the horse broke toward them. Whiff and Bill hung back with Henry, as Alec walked toward the fence.
The Black hesitated when he saw the newcomers. He screamed and trotted back down the field. Henry didn’t have to urge Whiff and Bill to move out of sight. They ran into the barn—their eyes wide with excitement. “Did you see him!” gasped Bill.
“Boy, he’s the biggest horse I ever did see and what a mean look!” answered Whiff. They watched from the window of the barn.
The Black broke into a long, loping gait and ran toward Alec, as he walked into the field. “Better get back, Alec,” yelled Henry. “If he doesn’t slow up, he’ll hit you.”
The stallion thundered down upon the boy. Five yards away he swerved, barely missing him. He ran to the fence, turned and once again ran toward him. He swerved as he had done before. “Better get out of there, Alec,” Henry warned.
“He just wants to play, Henry,” Alec yelled over his shoulder. “We did this all the time on the island! It’s like a game of tag.”
“Yeah,” Henry called, “some fun!” He watched as Alec ran after the Black until he got him into a corner. The stallion reared and pawed the ground. He ran to one side, then to the other. Alec slowly approached him, both hands spread apart. The Black snorted, his long mane falling over his eyes. Suddenly Alec ran toward him. The stallion whirled and broke for the side. Alec reached out and slapped him on the hindquarters. The Black ran to the center of the field, then turned and looked back, shaking his head.
“What a pair!” Henry said to himself.
The stallion charged back at the boy, again swerving when he was almost on top of him. For ten minutes Henry watched the strangest game he had ever witnessed. And slowly he began to understand the strange understanding that had grown between this wild stallion and the boy.
A few minutes later Alec came up to him. His shirt was wet with sweat and his blue eyes glistened with excitement. “Do you see, Henry,” he exclaimed, “he just wanted to play! Look at him, Henry—did you ever see anything so great in all your life?”
The Black had broken into a gallop and was running around the field. His mane flew back in the wind, and as he neared them his powerful strides shook the ground. He swept past. Henry didn’t say anything until the stallion had come to a stop at the other end of the field, had whirled and looked back at them. Henry’s own eyes were bright, too. “No,” he said, “I’ve never seen anything like him—not
even Chang.
“I wrote to my friend in the Jockey Club,” he continued after a moment’s silence. “I explained the situation and asked if there wasn’t some way we could check up on the Black’s pedigree. He should be registered somewhere.”
“How long before he’ll answer you, Henry?”
“Should be sometime this week, telling us what to do, anyway.”
“I hope so,” Alec said. “It can’t be too soon for me.”
“Me, either.… Guess we’d better bring him in now; he’s been out long enough. Then we’ll make the fence a little higher in spots, so we won’t be chasing him through the park like we did yesterday.”
The boy whistled and the Black came running toward him. Alec grabbed him by the halter and rubbed his nose. He was leading him toward the barn when he heard someone shout, “Hey, Alec, keep away! Don’t bring him in here! We’re here!” The stallion snorted.
“What do you know, Henry, I forgot all about Whiff and Bill,” Alec said. “They’re still in the barn.… Come on out, fellows. I’ll hold the Black here.”
The two boys came out, a little sheepishly.
“Guess we’d better get home to lunch,” Whiff said. They hurried down the driveway as the stallion screamed softly.
“Guess they believe me now,” Alec said, grinning.
After dinner that same night, Alec went back to the barn. Tony had already stabled old Napoleon for the night. Alec saw him shove his white nose over into the Black’s stall to steal some of his oats. The Black playfully nipped him, and Napoleon quickly withdrew his head. Alec couldn’t get over the fancy the Black had taken to Napoleon. He wasn’t afraid to leave him alone now, for as long as the old, gray horse was around, the stallion was quiet. A little later Alec bedded the Black’s stall, turned out the lights and went home.
Days passed into weeks, weeks into months. And Alec’s life, from the moment his alarm awakened him at five o’clock every morning until he closed his books at night, became as regular as a time clock. Always in the morning before school, he would feed, groom and ride the Black around the field. If the weather was nice, he would leave him outside, knowing Henry would be around to watch him. He didn’t have time for games after school with the fellows any more. He had too many things to do. He would rush home at 12:30, as soon as his last class was over, eat lunch and then once again go to the stables where Henry was usually waiting for him.
Henry had received an answer from his friend in the Jockey Club, giving him the address of a Stud Book Registry Office in the Middle East. “It’s very doubtful whether they can help you, though,” he wrote, “as you have so little information to work on. However, I’m sure that they will do their best.”
Henry wrote to them. “Now all we can do is wait and hope,” he told Alec. “It will take a long time. That isn’t going to stop us from training the Black, though. I want to put a watch on that fella—even if we aren’t ever able to put him in a race!”
They hadn’t attempted to put saddle or bridle on the Black yet. Henry wanted to wait until spring. The weather became cold and the ground hard.
“Our real work begins in the spring,” Henry told Alec. “Now we’ll just take it easy!” Under Henry’s expert tutelage, Alec’s riding skill became greater and greater until Henry nodded with approval. “A grand combination,” he said to himself as he watched the boy ride high on the stallion’s withers as he galloped down the field.
After the workouts, Alec would usually spend the rest of the afternoon doing the odd jobs around home which his father gave him. “Have to earn your allowance,” his father said.
He had found plenty of things for him to do, too. Alec never had known there was so much to be done around a house—and his father hadn’t missed up on a thing. The front and back porch gleamed with new paint. The garage doors now opened easily and stayed open. The cellar shone with cleanliness. And Alec never knew so many leaves could fall from trees. One day he would rake up and burn hundreds of them; the next day the yard would be covered again. Then with the coming of cold weather, there was work to be done in the house. Luckily enough, even though it was now January, snow hadn’t fallen and the walks didn’t have to be shoveled.
There was still no news about the Black’s parentage.
“I’m afraid it’s no use, Henry,” Alec told him.
“Don’t give up yet, son,” Henry replied, but Alec could tell that he, too, had very little hope.
One afternoon, Alec walked toward the barn. The sky was overcast and the air cold. “Have to take it easy with him today,” he thought. He pulled open the barn door. Henry sat in his favorite chair, tipped perilously back on two legs against the wall. He was looking at the Black, who was moving restlessly in his stall.
Henry turned as the boy closed the door. “Hello, Alec,” he said.
“Hello, Henry. What’s the matter with the Black?”
“He’s all right,” replied Henry. “Kept him in all morning, though, and he’s pretty fidgety. The ground’s pretty hard, and I didn’t want him out there by himself. He’ll feel better after you’ve given him a few turns around the field. Do your best to hold him down.”
The stallion snorted and reached his head out toward Alec. Alec went over and placed a hand on his nose. “Hello, fella,” he said. “Want to get some air, don’t you?” The stallion shook his head.
“How’s everything at school?” Henry asked.
“Managing all right, Henry. Made up most of my work, and things seem to be working out better than ever before. Guess it must be the regular hours,” and he laughed.
“Yep,” said Henry. “Keep it up, Alec, and we’ll show your folks that you can raise a champion race horse and get good marks at the same time!”
Alec looked out the window. “Henry,” he exclaimed, “look, it’s snowing!”
The front legs of Henry’s chair came down with a bang. He went to the window beside Alec. “Sure enough it is,” he said. They watched the snow fall heavier and heavier. “Well, it’s about time, anyway. Never seen it hang off so long before,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Alec glumly, “and I can just see myself shoveling tons of it off the walk!”
A regular blizzard started raging outside. “Sure is coming down,” said Henry.
The Black was watching the snow, too. His eyes were wide with wonder, his ears pitched forward. “Henry,” said Alec, “look at the Black. This is the first time he’s seen snow!”
“That’s right!” exclaimed Henry. “They don’t have any where he comes from!”
“Wonder how he’s going to react to it?”
“Shouldn’t bother him any,” answered Henry. The Black pawed the bedding of his stall.
“Seems pretty nervous,” Alec said.
“Yep, but that’s because he hasn’t been out,” replied Henry thoughtfully.
For the next half hour, Henry and Alec watched the falling snow. “Seems to be stopping now,” said Alec.
A few minutes later the sun broke out of the clouds. “Certainly is beautiful out there now,” said Henry as he and Alec watched the sun’s rays glisten on the white snow.
The boy turned toward the Black. “Do you think we dare take him out, Henry?” he asked.
Henry looked at the stallion, who was still pacing his stall. “He sure needs the air, Alec. It’s hard to keep a horse of his nature penned up, even for a day. Do you think you could manage him?”
Alec smiled. “I’m not afraid of anything with the Black, Henry—you know that,” he answered.
Henry grinned. “Okay, let’s get him out!” he said as he walked toward the stall.
As soon as Henry opened the stall door, the Black pushed his way out. Alec grabbed hold of his halter. “Whoa, Boy,” he said.
Henry moved toward the barn door. “Better lead him around awhile until he gets used to it,” he said as he pulled back on the door. The Black shied and Alec took a firmer grip on the halter. Cautiously he led the stallion out of the barn.
The air was cold and still. The Black’s hoofs sank into the snow. He moved gingerly around the boy, never letting his feet remain more than a fraction of a second in the same spot. The snow flew in all directions. Slowly Alec led the Black around the yard in front of the barn. The stallion kept shaking his head, and his breath shot from his nostrils, sending two streams of thick vapor into the air.
Alec attached the lead rope to the halter, giving him more room to run around. The stallion made a circle around him. Suddenly he stopped. Cautiously he lowered himself to the ground and then rolled over on his back. His legs waved above him.
“Look at him!” Alec shouted to Henry. “He loves it!”
After a few minutes, the Black climbed to his feet. Alec took him by the halter. “How’d you like it, fella?” he asked. The stallion shook his head. Alec laughed and brushed the snow off his back. “Okay to get on him now, Henry?” he asked.
“Sure,” answered Henry. He walked over beside the Black and boosted Alec onto the stallion.
“Remember, take it as easy as you can,” cautioned Henry, as Alec guided the Black into the field. He went at a fast walk, his legs sinking deeper and deeper into the snow.
Alec reached down and patted the Black’s neck. “How do you like this, fella?” he asked again. The Black swerved a little and broke into a slow trot. Alec let him go and then drew him up into a walk again. “Take it easy, Boy,” he said.
Now Alec let the Black go where he wanted to. He knew the stallion was enjoying the snow. He headed down into the hollow at the lower end of the field. The snow was a little deeper there. The stallion stepped high and once he rose a little on his hind legs. Alec guided him out of the hollow. The Black broke into a canter and Alec let him go, but kept a firm hand on him. The cold wind blew in his face and the snow went flying. When they reached the end of the field, he pulled the stallion up.
After an hour of riding, he saw Henry wave him in. He turned the Black toward the barn. “He liked the snow,” he said when he came up to Henry.