“Maybe you’ll recognize him.”

Henry turned from the door at the sound of the Black coming down the ramp. Alec had him off and was leading him toward the barn. The stallion’s lips, eyes and ears were all in motion.

“He knows where he is, Henry,” Alec called. “Just look at him!”

As the Black entered the barn, his ears pricked forward at sight of Napoleon. He neighed shrilly and moved quickly across the floor. Napoleon stretched out his head to him while the Black moved close, his nostrils quivering.

“Better be careful with him,” Henry warned both Alec and Napoleon.

But Napoleon had no fear of the Black, and he shoved his gray head hard against the stallion. The Black stood still, watching him curiously.

After a few minutes Alec opened the door to the empty stall. The Black turned to it, his long nostrils quivering; then, without a word from the boy, he went inside.

Henry waited while Alec fed and watered the Black, but when he saw that the boy meant to stay inside the stall he walked slowly toward the barn door.

This is the way Alec wanted it, all right, he thought. Just the Black and him all over again. But it can’t go on. No more than it could with Satan. Someone’s going to learn about the Black’s being here, and when the news breaks the Lord only knows where it’ll end. But no need to tell him that. Not now. Let him have it the way he wants for as long as he can. It’ll be short enough.… It can’t last, not with a horse like the Black.

Quietly Henry opened the door and stepped out into the night, leaving Alec alone with his horse.

RIDING HIGH!
5

It was very early the next morning when Alec returned to the barn after only a few hours’ sleep. He went directly to the Black, running his hand through the stallion’s long mane to remove the straw that had matted the hair.

“You were down last night,” he said softly.

The Black nickered, following him to the water pail that hung in a corner. Alec removed the pail from its bracket and left the stall, closing the door behind him; then he went into Napoleon’s stall and got his pail, too, before going to the water faucet outside the barn. Returning, he first went to Napoleon, setting his pail up for him; then he entered the stallion’s stall again. Instead of placing the pail in the corner, he held it while the Black pushed his small, finely drawn muzzle down to the water. Alec’s fingers touched the molesoft skin as the stallion drank.

A few minutes later Alec was at the feedbox, scooping up containers of oats for the Black and Napoleon. And, while the stallion ate, he cleaned the stall and pitched in some fresh straw, bedding it down well; then he went quickly to the chest in the tack room. He took out the brushes and currycomb and was about to close the lid when he saw the folded blanket. He picked it up carefully, his eyes turning to the far wall of the room; then he unwrapped the blanket from about the Black’s picture and hung it once more in its proper place on the wall. His eyes shining, he turned from it and left the room.

The Black moved uneasily as Alec brought the brush across his body, but the boy moved with him, unmindful of the fiery brightness coming into the stallion’s eyes. Alec went to the rear of the stallion, brushing out the straw from his tail; then he stopped to pick up the Black’s feet, going from one to the other, cleaning them of the dirt and manure that was packed within the hoofs. It was only when he straightened, close to the Black’s head, that he saw the unusual light in the stallion’s eyes. Aware of the fury that smoldered within the Black, he stepped closer to him and raised the brush to the stallion’s lips.

“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said as the Black nuzzled the brush. “It can’t hurt you. And you’re not worried about me.