Sure, and I’ve had my share of that in my day, too. Nope, this won’t be any fuss at all, Mr. Ramsay.” Henry grinned reassuringly and went on, “Y’see, a young colt like this one is brought up knowin’ that man is his friend. All y’have to do in most cases is to handle him well with both kindness and firmness, an’ he just builds up confidence in people and does most everything you ask him to do. Why, this man Boldt I’m workin’ for has a flock of youngsters which we’re handlin’. ’Course some of ’em have their quirks and are meaner than others, but they’re all comin’ along fine, and before they’re yearlings they’ll all be well under control.”

When Henry had finished Mr. Ramsay said, “I see what you mean, Henry, and I suppose you’re right. It’s just that I can’t forget the fire and at times the savageness that was in the Black.”

“Fire that was in him while he was runnin’ wild in the desert,” Henry reminded him.

“But fire that could be passed on to his son, born in the desert.”

Henry smiled at Mr. Ramsay’s insistence. “Yes, but his son will be brought up knowin’ that man is his friend, and never knowin’ the freedom of the desert,” he concluded.

Alec’s eyes had shifted from one to the other during the course of the conversation. There was much truth in all that his father had said. Henry knew it, too; yet the old man had probably figured there was no reason to cause undue concern at this point. The young colt with the blood of the Black running through him could conceivably give them a hard time. But Alec knew that with proper handling and kindness the colt would come around, just as Henry had said.

The blunt prow of the Queen of India entered the pier siding, and Alec, together with the others, watched her as she slowly drew alongside the shed. They could see the open door of the hold, and a group of men in blue jeans standing around.

“We’d better get inside the shed,” Alec said, his tense voice betraying his emotions. “They’ll bring him out that hold door.”

With Sebastian straining at his leash, Mr. Ramsay and Henry followed Alec inside. About halfway down the shed Alec left the others and hurried toward a pier official who was standing at the unloading gate.

“It’s better to leave him alone now, Henry,” Mr. Ramsay said.

Henry nodded, and they walked slowly between two parked trucks to the pier fence. A few yards away the soot-blackened white hull of the tramp steamer pressed heavily against the wooden pier. The door to the hold slid by and then the ship came to a stop as the lines holding her fast to the pier were tied securely by the dockhands.

Henry watched as stevedores ran up the plank leading into the hold and then reappeared a few minutes later, wheeling and carrying cargo. It shouldn’t be long now, he thought. Looking along the fence, he saw Alec standing there, his eyes, too, on the door to the hold.

“He’ll be comin’ in a minute, Morgan. You’d better hurry if you wanta see it!” a voice shouted from above.

Glancing up toward the deck of the ship, Henry saw a man standing near the rail, his coveralls and face smeared with the black grease of a tramp’s boiler room. Another man joined him, and together they leaned far over the rail to get a good view of the hold door just below them.

“Harrity,” Henry heard the new arrival say, “from all Sam told me they’ll be havin’ trouble gettin’ anyone to take him off. He’s given them nothin’ but trouble all the way over. He sure is a lot of horse for a youngster. They shoulda kept him in Arabia, I say!”

Henry’s eyes shifted uneasily from the men on the rail to the hold door, then back again. It was probable that they were discussing the colt. He turned to Mr.