The Island Stallion (20 page)

“I’m sure they’ll understand. I have some money saved. It shouldn’t cost too much.” Steve paused, then asked, “Can we look for the way back to the dory tonight, Pitch?”

Nodding, Pitch turned to him. “Yes, we can do that, Steve. I can show you a tunnel that might be it—at least, it seems to be going in the right direction.”

“And we’ll keep looking every evening until we find it, won’t we, Pitch? I’ll leave Flame a few hours early each day, so I’ll have more time to look for it with you. Is that all right, Pitch?” Steve asked anxiously.

“Yes, Steve,” Pitch replied. “That’s all right.”

Three nights went by, with Steve following Pitch through the tunnels for many hours, marveling at his friend’s newly acquired knowledge of this underground world. Pitch walked quickly in the light from his burning torch, stopping only to point out chambers he had found in previous days. Always upon the walls Steve
would see his friend’s chalked lines, and when they came to intersections there would be figures and letters of which only Pitch knew the meaning. But when Pitch came upon tunnels he had not been through before, his pace would slacken, and after a few minutes it would be he who decided whether or not they should continue onward.

Confidently Steve placed himself in Pitch’s hands, knowing there were few tunnels left through which Pitch had not already walked and that one night soon they would find their way back. Each night, too, even as he followed doggedly at Pitch’s heels, he would think of what it would be like to have Flame at home where he could be with him always. And in his mind he framed the cable he planned to send to his father, for his father would understand while his mother might not. He would wire, “PLEASE CABLE ME …”

How much money will I need to ship Flame home?
he wondered.
I’ll have to find out before I send my cable. If it’s only one hundred dollars I have that much saved up. In that case, I’ll say
, “PLEASE SEND ME MY ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. URGENT. I HAVE FOUND MY STALLION.”

No. Perhaps
stallion
isn’t the best word to use. It might frighten them. I’d better make it
horse.
I’ll say
, “PLEASE SEND ME MY ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. URGENT. I HAVE FOUND MY HORSE.”

It still doesn’t sound right
, he thought.
They’ll never understand how important it is to me from that. I’m sure it would be much better if I put it in a letter. I could really tell them how I feel about Flame in a letter. I’ll write to Dad. He
should understand. He knows how I feel about horses better than Mom does
.

It was early the fourth evening when their burning torch disclosed the fork in the tunnel ahead. Steve saw Pitch come to an abrupt stop, then move close to the right wall.

And in the light each saw it—a large arrow, drawn by them days, or was it weeks, ago? Simultaneously they both cried out, but then afterward they stood quietly before it, neither saying a word.

For both knew they could leave now, anytime they pleased. And they could return to Blue Valley just as easily. Also, they could open the upper doors of the sea entrance for their launch and carry away what they both wanted so desperately. But what would be the outcome? Would it mean that this world would be theirs no longer? Would Tom and others search for the entrance to Blue Valley until they found it?

As they linked arms they smiled, each wondering what the other was thinking.

Steve sat quietly on Flame’s back, his hands softly stroking the sleek neck. He had been astride his horse since his arrival in the valley at dawn. Throughout the day he had sat there, longer than ever before. For this day was different from any of the others—this was his fourteenth day on the island, and tomorrow morning he and Pitch would return to Antago.

“But I’ll be back in a few days,” he told Flame. “I’ll be back to get you, and then we’ll never be separated again.”

We’ll never be separated again
.

Would it be like that? he asked himself over and over again. Would his mother and father understand his love for Flame as he thought they would? Would Tom keep his word to let him have any horse on Azul Island once he set eyes on Flame? And if he did, would Tom believe him when he told him that he had found Flame on the plain?

Steve’s eyes left his horse for the western walls that
separated them from the sea.
No
, he thought,
he won’t believe me—that much I know. How could he possibly? He’ll know we’ve found something, and he’ll look for it himself. But he won’t find the way. He’ll never find the right tunnel or the sea entrance
.

Steve’s hands fell about the stallion’s neck as he placed his face close to his horse.

Raising his head, Flame cocked his ears, moved forward a few strides and stopped to graze once more.

Steve let him graze only a short while longer before leaning forward and saying, “Let’s go, Flame.” He clucked softly in the stallion’s ear and Flame’s head came up with a start; then he moved forward on dancing hoofs as Steve squeezed his legs slightly about him.

Steve buried his head in the stallion’s flowing mane as Flame broke into his long, loping canter. Then the horse’s strides quickened until he was in full gallop. Steve’s knees pressed close to the glistening red body as he felt the surge of giant muscles. He clung like a burr to the stallion’s back while Flame swept about the edge of the valley floor, and always Steve’s soft clucking was an accompaniment to the beat of pounding hoofs.

Flame circled the valley many times; then Steve ceased his clucking and called upon the stallion to stop. Flame responded slowly, his strides gradually growing shorter until he was in his loping canter. When he came to a halt, Steve slid off. Already the sun was sinking behind the western wall. It was time to go back to Pitch.

He turned to Flame, pressing his head close to the soft muzzle.

“I won’t be around tomorrow,” he whispered, “nor the next day—or the few that follow. But I won’t be
long, Flame, and when I do come back it’ll be to take you away with me. Then we’ll be together always.”

Steve stayed with his horse for a while longer before leaving him. As he walked up the slope leading to the gorge, he heard the sound of Flame’s hoofs following him. When he turned around, after he had gone some distance, Flame was close behind.

Steve went to his horse again, his face troubled. This, he knew, was the nearest Flame had ever been to the gorge leading back to Blue Valley. Did it mean that Flame wasn’t as afraid of the Piebald as he believed? Would Flame one day go back to Blue Valley?

Steve stood close beside his horse, rubbing his hand across the silken coat. When he turned away again he heard the sound of Flame’s hoofs behind him once more. He was almost at the gorge when the hoofbeats stopped. Turning around, Steve saw his horse standing still, watching him with large, curious eyes. The stallion shook his fiery head and whinnied.

Steve called to him, but Flame remained still. After a while he went back to his grazing and Steve left the valley.

All through the gorge and across the marsh, Steve thought over and over again,
Will he return to his band after all? Was I wrong in thinking he’d live alone, an outcast, rather than go back and face the Piebald? But he’s not going to live alone. I want him. I’m going to take him away. I don’t want him to fight the Piebald!

As the boy reached the top of the hollow leading from the marsh, he looked for the black-and-white stallion. The Piebald was grazing with his band in the center of Blue Valley. Steve watched for several moments
before ducking below the tall cane and moving up the valley.

And always, as he walked along, the Piebald was there before him, as vivid as though Steve were actually looking at him. He saw the close-set eyes, one blue, the other white. He saw the hatred, the viciousness gleaming in them. The long mulelike ears were pulled back flat against the heavy head as the stallion bared his teeth and shook his massive body.

Then, in his mind, Steve saw the Piebald go forward to meet Flame, as he had done that first day. Heavily he ran, the earth shaking beneath his thunderous hoofs. And during the next few moments, Steve relived every blow of pounding hoofs on flesh, every second of raking, tearing teeth during the terrible fight.

He came to an abrupt stop, the palms of his hands wet and a feverish light in his eyes. “Stop thinking of the Piebald!” he said aloud. “Flame isn’t coming back. There will be no fight. I’ll have him away from here soon. I’ll have him for my own.”

But when Steve walked forward again, he asked himself,
But what if he does come back? What if he fights the Piebald while you’re away? What if he’s killed? Flame is smarter and faster, but if he’s just a little afraid he’ll be killed by the Piebald. The Piebald is no blundering bruiser, but crafty and cunning, and he knows how to use his weight to his advantage
.

“I’ve got to get Flame away soon,” Steve muttered. “I won’t have him killed
now
.”

Steve’s pace increased until he was running, his body crouched low and hidden from the Piebald by the tall cane.

Ahead, high on the cliff, Pitch would be waiting, and very early tomorrow morning they’d start for Antago. Every moment, every day counted now, if he was to save his horse from what he felt would be certain death beneath the hoofs of the Piebald.

The following morning it was still dark when they finished their breakfast. Steve packed hurriedly, then turned to find Pitch looking out upon the valley, his pack untouched. The gray of dawn began to appear in the sky to the east. Below, the band was already grazing.

“Let’s hurry, Pitch,” Steve said impatiently.

But it was another moment before Pitch gave his attention to his pack. “Have you ever seen anything like it, Steve?” he asked. “Where else on earth could anyone find the magnificent beauty, the solitude and peace we have here?”

Steve didn’t reply, for he was watching the Piebald move from his band to the pool directly below. And when he again turned to Pitch, he found that his friend still hadn’t packed; he was gazing at the pistol, the sextant, the spurs and the few other things he had found, which were all neatly placed in a small pile beside his pack.

“I’d better put them in first, hadn’t I?” Pitch asked. “I want to pack them in the bottom, so no one will see them. I may have to leave some of my equipment behind, unless you have room for it in your pack.”

“I can take a little,” Steve replied quickly. “I’ve some room.”

Pitch looked out at the valley again.

Steve said once more, “Let’s go, Pitch. It’ll be light
in a few minutes.” He bent down to pick up Pitch’s equipment, but momentarily his gaze too swept down the valley.
Yes
, he thought,
soon it will be light, and it will be the first morning I haven’t been with Flame since I found him. I wonder if he’ll miss me. I wonder what he’ll do. But the sooner I get Pitch out of here, the sooner I’ll be back
.

Pitch bent down beside him, but he only handled one of the spurs, without placing it in his pack. “Steve,” he said slowly, “do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

Steve looked at him questioningly.

“I mean,” Pitch began, then he paused. “Maybe I should leave all this here. Wouldn’t it be better not to take chances on having anyone learn about Blue Valley? It’s rather wonderful having a world all our own, Steve. I … I guess I’ve changed in the past few days. What I mean to say is I’d rather leave everything here just as we found it … and then come back to it,” he added, his gaze dropping. “No one will ever know about Blue Valley that way and we can come back to it every summer—when you’re able to be here, I mean. We won’t arouse anyone’s curiosity. We’ll just be camping, Steve. No one will ever know what we’ve found.”

Steve had listened in silence, knowing what it meant for Pitch to give up his treasures for something he valued even more. When Pitch had finished, Steve found that he couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes, and he asked himself,
Would you give up Flame to keep this world for yourself—for yourself and Pitch?
And he thought selfishly,
No, I couldn’t do that. For much as I love this valley, I love Flame even more. And if I want him to be safe, I must take him away from here—away from the Piebald
.

“What do you think, Steve?” Pitch was asking again. “Should I leave everything here? Do you think it best, too?”

“No, Pitch,” Steve replied slowly, “I think you’d better take it with you.” He paused. “I’m going to take Flame away from here, you know. And when Tom sees him—” Steve left the sentence unfinished. When he looked up, Pitch’s eyes were upon him. And he realized from what he saw in them that Pitch doubted he would be able to take Flame away, doubted his parents would ever send him the money to get Flame home.
But he doesn’t know them
, Steve thought.
He doesn’t really know them
.

The boy stood up and walked over to his pack, while Pitch stayed behind, still fondling the heavy iron spur.

After a while Steve heard Pitch say, “I’m going to leave them behind, Steve. I’ve decided for myself. I’ve made up my mind.” And when the boy turned to him, he saw that Pitch’s eyes were bright and that his face had lost the tautness of the past few days. Steve suddenly felt very old and very tired.

Pitch began packing his equipment, paying no further attention to his newly acquired possessions until he had finished. Then he said, “I want to hide them, Steve. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Steve nodded, and Pitch picked up his treasures one by one. When he started for the cave behind them, Steve looked anxiously at the eastern sky. The gray had given way to the golden light of the sun.

I’m always with Flame by this time
, he thought.
I’d be standing close to him, maybe even riding him by now. I know
he’s looking for me, wondering where I am. He’ll miss me. I’m sure he’ll miss me. But it won’t be long before I’ll be back, and he’ll wait for me. I’m sure he will
.

Pitch came out of the cave just as the sun appeared above the eastern walls and the valley gleamed brightly as the grass, heavy with dew, picked up the sun’s rays. The band was grazing a short distance from the pool, with only the young, spindle-legged foals running about, slipping as they turned too sharply on their uncertain legs. The Piebald grazed alone with only an occasional glance at his band. Confident and defiant, he stood there with nothing to fear.