He was afraid to move lest he offset Satan’s balance still more. He gave the colt his head, yet Alec’s hands on the reins were ready to help Satan when he needed it.

Satan’s strides were unrhythmic as he plunged forward, but Alec knew the worst was over. The big black colt had gathered himself and his feet were firmly beneath him once more. Even now his strides were lengthening, his body leveling out.

Only then did Alec become conscious of the heaving, sleek bodies to the front and side of him. The start on the muddy track had been difficult for all the horses, but now each was in his stride and moving fast.

Satan’s head was pushed forward and he was pulling. Bending low to the side of the black neck, Alec drew back on the reins. “Not yet, Satan. Not yet,” he called.

Driving hindquarters rose and fell in front of them, sending mud into their faces. Satan didn’t like it, but he didn’t attempt to free himself from Alec’s tight rein.

The three leading horses swung into the first turn, followed by Satan and the rest of the field. Alec saw the jockeys on his right starting to close in on him; they wanted to bring their mounts into the rail ahead of Satan going around the turn. Momentarily he gave Satan more rein. The colt surged forward, keeping the rail. But the others held on, pressing Satan as he sped about the turn.

The leaders were four lengths ahead as Satan came into the backstretch. Alec took a firm hold, keeping the black colt just to the fore of those running behind him.

“Make your move in the middle of the backstretch,” Henry had said. “Not before then. It’s only the gray you have to worry about, and he’ll be back with you, biding his time.”

The gray colt was behind him, as Henry had said. Alec could see his head coming up close beside them. He gave Satan a little more rein to keep ahead of the gray.

The leaders, having spent their early speed, were dropping back, and Satan bore down upon them with giant strides. But the gray was still pressing the black colt. Together they passed the tiring horses who had set the pace. Together they swept by the half-mile pole and drove toward the far turn.

No mud flew in Alec’s face now. The track ahead was clear of horses and only the racing gray, moving at Satan’s hindquarters, could keep the black colt from winning the Triple Crown!

“Now, Satan!” Alec shouted into the wind.

He moved forward and the white rail went by with ever increasing speed. Alec bent low, lost in the colt’s heavy, flowing mane. Nothing could stop Satan now, for he was running free, and there was a savage wildness to his action.

For only a few yards did the gray match Satan’s tremendous strides. Then he fell back before the fresh onslaught of speed and power displayed by the black colt. And as Satan rounded the turn in all his fury and came down the homestretch, the eyes of the crowd were on him alone. He was all power, all beauty as he swept beneath the wire, winner by a dozen lengths and the first undefeated Triple Crown winner in turf history!

High on the roof above the stands, a man kept his camera on Satan until the black colt was brought to a stop far up the track; then, turning to another cameraman, he said, “Never in my life have I seen a horse run like that. Never.”

“I have,” the other returned. “But only once. He was the Black, the sire of this colt.