“He’s been good too long. The break had to come sometime, and it came tonight. Unfortunately, neither of us was figuring on such a thing happening. We’re as much to blame.”

Henry left his chair to walk nervously about the room. His eyes swept over the walls, taking in the numerous championship plaques that had been awarded to Satan during his racing career. “Do you think he’s gotten it out of his system for a while, then?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Henry. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think there’s any way of telling for sure.”

“Then the only thing we can do is to isolate him until we find out,” the trainer said. “Put him in one of the far pastures or keep him in the barn most of the time.”

“Isolation might make things worse,” Alec said quietly.

“I know, but we can’t take any chances of him gettin’ to Satan again.”

Alec’s gaze left Henry and shifted to the east window. The horizon was turning a dull gray. Soon the day would begin. There was no sense in going back to bed now. In a little while it would be time to feed the broodmares and their colts, to handle the weanlings and yearlings, to do the many other endless tasks that went with the operation of a stock farm. Routine and schedules. Regular hours for feeding, handling, cleaning and training. But in spite of all this his days were never dull. Every colt and filly, every broodmare and stallion was an individual to be treated in his or her own special way to obtain best results. Yet there were only so many hours in a day, with so many jobs to be done. Keep to a schedule and one finished in time for bed.

Hearing the Black neigh jolted Alec’s mind back to the problem at hand. If the stallion were a person, one would say he was tired of routine, tired of the regularity of his daily schedule. All right, Alec thought, say it.… He’s bored! Say it and get it over with! Not so long ago the Black had roamed the Great Desert of Arabia, wild and free. Now he was being treated like the most domesticated of farm animals. Was it any wonder that he had revolted against it all? Wasn’t it, indeed, a wonder that he hadn’t revolted long before tonight? The Black needed freedom, a freedom he couldn’t have here no matter what arrangements were made!

“Henry …”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do when you get pretty fed up with farm routine?” Alec asked.

Henry looked puzzled. He walked around to the front of the desk and then sat down again, hoping to meet Alec’s gaze. But the boy’s eyes were fixed on the desk.

“You can’t say I get fed up,” Henry said. “I like it here. I just need a change every once in a while.”

“So you take one or more of our horses to the track for a season’s campaign.”

“Sure, Alec. That’s part of my job here. Racing helps to pay our bills.” Henry grinned sheepishly.