The Black is to start in the International Cup race to be held at the new racing plant just outside of Saratoga, New York, on the twenty-eighth of August.

“The Black will run as an entry from the Abu Ishak stable, for the Arab chieftain had entered him in the race. Alec Ramsay will, of course, ride him. It will be the Black’s only race, for Alec Ramsay will retire him to stud immediately afterward. Whether or not the great stallion still retains the speed he had as a three-year-old remains to be seen. His competition will be the world’s fastest horses, including his colt, Satan; Phar Fly, Australia; Avenger, France; Cavaliere, Italy; Sea King, England; El Dorado, Argentina; Kashmir, India …”

There was more, but Alec put the paper down to pick up the telegram that he had received earlier from Henry.

“Am at airport,” Henry had wired from Chicago. “Don’t do anything until I get there.”

But he had done something. He had agreed to race the Black in the International. He wondered if Henry had read Jim Neville’s column before sending the telegram. He doubted it but knew Henry would have read it before he arrived at the barn.

Certainly Henry would understand! He was doing it for Abu Ishak. It was what Abu had wanted, and the Black would be in the International had the Sheikh lived. It was the least he could do for Abu, as he had told himself over and over again.

Alec went downstairs to find his mother in the living room. She was reading a newspaper but let it fall to her lap when Alec appeared.

“Jim Neville says here that you’re going to race the Black, Alec,” she said, and her voice and face were heavy with concern although she tried hard to conceal her emotions.

“Just once more, Mom.”

“But do you think that …” She stopped, well knowing that Alec understood what she meant to say.

He went to her and, bending, kissed her. “That it’ll be all right?” he asked for her. “Sure it will.”

“But the farm? You were going there with your father in a few days.”

“We’ll go right after the race,” he said. “I’ve got to go through with it, Mom. You understand, don’t you … as Dad does?”

“For Abu Ishak, you mean, Alec.” She paused, smiling a little. “Yes, I guess I do.” She turned to her paper again, and Alec left the room, not knowing she put the paper down again to watch him as he crossed the street.

The people pressed close to Alec as he went to his father at the gate.

“Just two at a time,” Mr. Ramsay was saying. “Sorry, but we can’t do any better than that.” Opening the gate for Alec, he said, “These two ladies are next, Alec.”

Two women pushed through the gate with Alec, and he escorted them up the driveway. They were middle-aged, tall and lean.

“We live on the next block,” one of them said, “so we’re neighbors, Alec.”

“It’s perfectly thrilling to have a famous horse practically in our own back yard,” said the other. “You must be so proud to have all these people here just to look at your horse,” she added.

“Yes, ma’am,” Alec replied. As he opened the barn door, he added, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay in the doorway. He’s not used to visitors.”

“All we want is a little peek,” one said.

“Just to say we saw him,” the other added.

The Black pushed his head over the stall door, whinnying at sight of Alec. Going to him, the boy rubbed him between the eyes and fed him a carrot.

“My, but he has a small head,” one of the ladies called. “You’d never think it belonged to the rest of him.”

A few minutes later Alec took the women back to the gate, where his father was waiting with the next two visitors. He knew that this would go on as long as the Black remained in Flushing.

It was several hours later when Alec saw Henry pushing his way through the crowd. His father had gone to the house for a rest, and the gate was locked and unattended. Reaching the gate, Henry put his hands on the bar and peered through.

“Alec!” he shouted. “Let me in!”

Alec moved his two visitors faster along the driveway until they reached the gate, which he opened for Henry. Henry slipped inside and shut and locked the gate behind him.

“No more visitors today!” the trainer called to the crowd, and his voice had an authoritative ring in it that the people didn’t challenge.