From there he tapered down to a small waist, slender thighs and legs.

As he walked across the field, Sebastian following closely at his heels, his keen blue eyes sought the barn. He wanted to say hello to Tony, not having seen the huckster for some time, and he knew that very often Tony and his aged horse, Napoleon, would have completed their neighborhood rounds by this time of day.

The hot August sun overhead caused the perspiration to drop slowly from Alec’s forehead and run down the sides of his face and across the high cheekbones. He swept it away with his hand and then brushed an arm across his forehead, pushing his red, tousled hair back from his eyes.

When he reached the barn and went inside, he saw Napoleon. The gray horse shoved his head over the stall door and neighed. Alec stroked the soft muzzle, took several lumps of sugar from the pocket of his corduroy trousers, and gave them to the horse. Suddenly the quiet of the barn was blasted by Tony’s booming voice, and Alec heard him sing, “To-re-a-dor-e … dada … dada … DA. Toreador! Toreador!”

Alec smiled. Tony was here, all right. With a final pat on Napoleon’s nose Alec went to the tack room in the rear, Sebastian padding softly behind him.

“Hi, Tony,” he greeted. “Doing some polishing?”

“Allo, Aleec. Sì, I maka nice an’ clean for my Napoleon. But it’sa all finish now.” Tony rose from his chair and hung the harness he had been polishing upon its wooden peg. That done, he turned his bright, black eyes toward the light racing bridle hanging close beside the harness. His hand touched the soft, well-polished leather. “You keepa in good condition, Aleec, no?” he said, without looking at his friend.

“No sense letting it go to rot,” Alec replied. “It’s a good bridle.”

There was a short pause before Tony spoke again. “You heard from thata man … what you call heem … Ab …”

“Abu Ishak?” Alec said.

“Sì, that’sa heem,” Tony said, nodding his head.

“No,” Alec answered. “I haven’t heard from him.”

“You theenk he will send you da horse like he promise when you leave hees country?”

Alec sat down in Tony’s vacated chair and ran his hand over Sebastian before answering. “I think so, Tony,” he said quietly.

“If he doesn’t, heesa one big liar,” Tony said angrily. “You tooka good care of da beeg Black when theesa man thought he wasa drowned, no? Then thees Abu comes along much time later and says to da Black, ‘We go,’ and offa they go.”

“But the Black belonged to him, Tony.”

The little huckster rose to his feet, his black eyes upon Alec. “Da beeg Black belonga to you always, Aleec. Hees heart belonga to you. It’sa that that’sa decides, and not papers!”

“Okay, Tony,” Alec said resignedly. “He belongs to me, and I loved him. I guess that’s why, even if I could have had him, I’d rather see him in Arabia. It’s his home. He’s happier there.” Alec’s eyes met Tony’s. “Abu Ishak is a good man, Tony,” he said. “He loves the Black as much as I do. And with him he’ll bring into the world other fine horses like the Black.