“We sort of specialize in carrying horses and animals of all kinds. Never had any trouble yet.”

Henry nodded agreeably, but Alec turned anxiously back to the plane. The Black uttered another shrill scream; then came the sharp ring of his hoofs striking metal.

“Some are a little harder to handle than others,” the gateman was saying. “But it’s all in knowing how. That fellow inside the plane is a professional animal handler. He rides along with every animal we carry. Just another of the services our company provides its clients.”

“As y’say,” Henry agreed, smiling. “It’s all in knowin’ how.”

“Yeah, that and having the equipment,” the gateman added. “We can make our planes into regular flying stables, when necessary. We use collapsible stalls with a soft rubber matting and wooden shavings for the horses to stand on. Everything for their comfort, you might say. But if they give us any trouble, this fellow can take care of them; he’s got a firm hand.” He turned to the plane. “Yours is the only animal we’re carrying tonight. The rest is freight. He should have had him out by now. It usually doesn’t take …” He stopped abruptly, his eyes on the doorway.

The Black stood just within the plane, the animal handler at his head.

“There he is now,” the gateman said. “We’ll have him off right away.”

“Sure,” Henry said uneasily, for he could see the man was having trouble. He put his hand on Alec’s arm.

The Black shook his head savagely as the man jerked hard on the lead shank he held short in his hand. The stallion snorted in contempt and his eyes blazed defiantly; then he moved out of the doorway and onto the ramp. For a moment he remained still, his eyelids blinking in the glare of the floodlights and his ears pricked to the sound of an incoming plane.

He was like a giant statue. Arrogant and noble, he stood there; his small head, crowned by silky foretop, was set majestically on his long and highly arched neck, and no sculptor could have done justice to the suppleness and fineness of line of his beautifully molded body.

The man at his head jerked again on the lead shank, trying to move him down the ramp. Tall and long-limbed, the stallion took two steps; then, without warning, he reared, carrying the man with him.

No longer was he beautiful to behold, but a ranting, raging beast, fighting for his freedom! To bring him down, the man struck him hard across the muzzle. The Black swelled to greater fury at the impact of the blow, and, when his forefeet touched the ramp, he bolted forward.

Alec was running to him when the Black pulled himself free of the man’s desperate grip on his halter. Jumping clear of the ramp, the stallion broke into a gallop. He started toward the runway but stopped before the outburst of a plane’s engines. Whirling, he came back, his eyes white and starting from his head. He swerved when he came upon Alec and swept by, perilously close to the boy.

His whirlwind charge came to a sudden stop. He shook his disheveled head, and his nostrils filled out. Turning again, he faced Alec. His large eyes were upon the boy, his ears cupped to the sound of Alec’s voice.