Pier Nine … Eight … Seven … Six. It was there, just ahead. The car rolled slowly to a stop as Mr. Ramsay pulled over to the curb. Alec had a tight, lumpy feeling in his stomach and his jawbones worked nervously. He was half out the door, with Sebastian at his heels, when he stopped and caught the dog. “Shall we leave him in the car, Dad?”

Shaking his head, Alec’s father said, “No, we’d better not. I can’t lock the door … broke it yesterday. I’d rather take him on the leash. I wouldn’t want anyone to steal Sebastian.”

A few minutes later they walked quickly across the street toward the shed marked Pier Six. Sebastian was pulling on his leash.

As Alec half ran to keep up with his father’s long strides, he felt in his pants pocket for the folded papers which would enable him to claim the colt. Upon reaching the shed, he and his father carefully kept to one side of the large entrance, avoiding the long line of trucks that rumbled past them on their way inside to pick up cargo. “Guess she must be coming in,” Alec said excitedly, quickening his pace until he passed his father, who now was carrying Sebastian in his arms to keep him out of the way of traffic.

They had almost reached the far end when Alec saw the van he’d hired parked in one of the sidings.

“Well, at least your truck’s here,” his father shouted above the roar of the motors when Alec pointed to the van.

They had a good view of the river at the open end of the shed and saw the Queen of India moving slowly toward the pier. Sebastian barked, and Alec’s father put him down on the ground and held him by the leash. “It’ll take quite a little time for the tugboats to get her alongside the shed,” he told Alec. “Tricky currents out there.”

Alec didn’t say anything, and as he watched the small steamer which lay low in the water, its hold laden with the produce of the Far East, he had that tight feeling in his stomach again. In the hold somewhere was his horse, his son of the Black!

And then, even above the roar of the trucks and the shouts of the stevedores, came a yell, “Hey, Alec!” which spun him around on his heels. Out of the melee behind him, a short, stocky man was running forward, his bowlegs looking as though they were about to give way from carrying the weight of the heavy chest and shoulders.

Alec’s face broadened into a wide grin. “Henry!” he shouted at the top of his voice, running to meet him.

Holding the leash taut to keep Sebastian from chasing Alec, Mr. Ramsay watched his son throw his arms around Henry. This was the way Alec wanted it, he thought. The two of them together again. They were so much alike, these two … even down to the same bowed legs. And between them there was a bond, perhaps even stronger than blood itself, their intense love for horses and for one horse especially, the Black. Yes, he thought, they were very much like father and son standing there, their arms around each other. Then they were coming toward him, and the tall, slight man let Sebastian pull him forward.

“Henry”—he smiled, as his hand clasped the other’s—“I’m sure glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Mr. Ramsay,” Henry said, grinning back. “I flew in about an hour ago and called the house. Mrs. Ramsay told me you two had taken off for the pier and gave me all the necessary information.