“You know,” he said, changing the subject, “I thought I’d never see a horse run as fast as the Black. But I have,” he added.

“You mean Satan?” Alec asked.

Nodding, Jim Neville said, “His one fifty-eight at Chicago was something to see. When he opened away in the upper stretch, I knew that this was the horse of all time.”

“You don’t think the Black could do better than one fifty-eight?”

“No, do you?” Jim Neville turned from the stallion to look at Alec.

“Yes, I do think so.”

“Why don’t you race him then, Alec?” Jim’s words came fast; he was taking advantage of Alec’s pride in the speed of the Black. “I’d like to see it.… So would everyone else.” He paused. “Don’t you think you owe it to racing?”

Alec didn’t reply.

“I remember the time you wanted nothing more than to race the Black. It wasn’t so long ago,” Jim reminded Alec.

“It was different then.”

“Why?” Jim Neville asked insistently. “Is it because you now have Satan racing?”

“No, Jim,” Alec said quickly. “It’s rather because I have raced Satan. I know what it means to lose your horse to the public. I’m not going to lose the Black to anyone. He’s mine and I intend to keep it that way.”

“But you haven’t lost Satan,” Jim said.

“It’s hard to explain what I mean, Jim. I want to have my horse for myself. I want to take care of him. I want him to be mine and no one else’s. Perhaps you’ll call it selfishness, and I guess it is. But that’s the way I feel. You can’t make a pet of a champion racer, as Henry has often told me … and as I’ve found out for myself. You’re bound to lose him to the public, no matter how hard you try. I don’t want to lose the Black as I did Satan.”

“So that’s why you’re retiring him to stud?”

Alec nodded. “That and because I want to have a lot of colts around, Jim … his colts. I want that kind of a life.”

“Sure, I know,” Jim said in a softer tone. “But can’t you see your way clear to race him just once more before his retirement? I really think you should consider it for a number of reasons … and I say this as a friend and not a newspaperman looking for a story.”

Alec turned to look searchingly at Jim Neville’s large, ruddy face. “But what good would it do to race him just once more, Jim?”

“A lot of good, Alec. First of all, it would satisfy the craving of a lot of people who would like to see him race again … and others, too, who have just heard of the Black and never quite believed there was anything like him. You make it plain to all that this is his last race before retirement and everyone will be resigned to it and be grateful for their last chance to see the Black run. Human nature works that way, Alec. Whether the Black won or lost, you’d be the winner. They’d leave you alone.”

“You still think Satan could beat him, Jim?”

“I do, Alec.”

The boy turned to the field while Jim Neville went on, “You should also consider the fact that if you’re going to make breeding horses your livelihood, you’ll probably be breeding mares other than your own to the Black. Racing him once more will give all racehorse owners a chance to see him in action, and when the time comes that you want to breed outside mares to the Black, you’ll be able to command a good price for his services. You have to think of things like that, Alec, if it means your bread and butter and staying in the business you love.