And there was no reason why they couldn’t use Stall 8 for Satan; then their sleeping quarters would be between the two horses. It might be better that way until they saw how things worked out between Satan and the Black. Alec felt certain that Henry could fix things up at the office for the use of the extra stall.

He went to Stall 8 and bedded it down well for Satan; then, having some free time, he went across the row to get his first close look at El Dorado.

The man who had borrowed the pail was grooming the chestnut. He looked up when Alec appeared at the stall door.

“How is he?” Alec asked. “Henry told me that you were a little worried about him.”

“He’s all right now. Although your black horse has made him more nervous than I like to see him.” He paused, turning to Alec. “You’re sure you can handle that horse? I’ve seen fighting stallions before and he certainly seems to be one.”

“I can handle him,” Alec said.

“One like that can bring out the worst in any stallion,” the man said, still unconvinced.

Alec was about to reply when he heard the van coming down the row. Leaving the stall, he saw Henry, accompanied by Lenny Sansone and Fred, the groom who took care of Satan. He waved to them as the van rolled by and came to a stop near their stalls.

Lenny Sansone, short and stocky and in his middle thirties, was the first off the van. He came toward Alec, a large grin on his wizened face, his hand outstretched. “It’s good seeing you again, Alec.”

“Good seeing you, too, Len,” Alec replied, clasping the other’s hand. “You’ve been really riding Satan,” he added.

“I just sit there and let him go. You know him,” Lenny said.

Henry and Fred were at the back of the van when Alec went to them. “How’d he ship, Fred?” he asked of the groom.

“Fine, Alec. Just fine,” Fred grinned. “He takes to travelin’ just like everything else. There’s no more horse anywhere.”

The back door of the van came down, and Satan neighed shrilly. Then the Black screamed, and his whistle was more piercing than Alec had ever heard it. He turned to him and saw that the stallion’s eyes were bright with fury. Lenny Sansone, who was standing close to the Black’s stall, called, “He’s apt to tear this door down, Alec!”

Alec went to the Black, but the stallion’s eyes never left the van, for Satan stood at the ramp.

“Stay with him, Alec!” Henry shouted. He and Fred had Satan by the halter; the burly colt uttered a shrill scream and his ears swept back, flat and heavy against his head.

“He’s never acted that way since I’ve known him,” Lenny said. “It must be the Black.”

The Black struck his foot hard against the door again, almost shattering the wood.

“Another blow like that and you won’t have any door,” Lenny warned.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Alec pushed the Black’s head back, then quickly opening the door he went inside. “Bolt it again, Lenny!” he called.

The stallion came back to the door, his eyes blazing, while Alec stood beside him. “Easy, Black. Easy,” he pleaded. But the giant body continued to tremble in fury as Alec ran his hand over him. Alec stayed near the small, glaring head, desperately trying to keep the stallion from stepping too close to the door.

Henry was taking Satan down the ramp, but seeing Alec inside the stall he called angrily, “Get out of there, Alec!”

But the boy didn’t hear him, for he was moving with the Black as the stallion turned furiously about the stall. He didn’t think the Black would kick him, but he wasn’t sure under these circumstances; so he kept close to the stallion’s head, his hand resting lightly on the halter. Always he talked to his horse, coaxing, urging, guiding. But it seemed the Black didn’t even know him now.