Not perfect but passable, I suppose. I have made many trips to England. Circus life makes it easy for one to learn languages.” The captain began rinsing the dishes beneath the hand pump.

“And Odin?” Alec asked, wanting to learn more. “He lives here? You came here to see him?”

The captain’s eyes became wary again but he did his best, Alec saw, to be pleasant. “Not quite,” he answered. “Odin lives in Haiti. He knew of this hammock and we came here together.”

There was no further explanation and Alec did not prod him. He was willing to wait. The captain was no longer the frightening man he had seemed; neither was Odin, whom Alec believed to be demented but harmless.

They finished the dishes and returned to the living room, where the captain motioned Alec to a chair beside him.

“It is good to have a professional horseman for company,” he said. “I have always had great respect for one who rides a racing horse … not so much because of the speed itself, but to ride in the midst of others also fully extended calls for great skill and courage.”

“A jockey has to take the dangers for granted and do the job,” Alec answered. “I enjoy it. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

“Yes, you would have to enjoy it to live in the shadow of maiming and death with each race. What do you weigh?”

“About a hundred and fifteen.”

“I am almost twice that and I would not enjoy it.”

“You have other talents,” Alec said, smiling. With the talk of horses all tension had left him.

“Yes, I prefer to make a horse rather than break one. The mouths of all your horses are as hard as the iron you put in them.”

“Not necessarily,” Alec said, surprised at his quick anger. “The Black’s mouth has not been made hard. He responds to the slightest touch and I use my hands and legs the same as you … not as well, perhaps, or the same way,” he added more cautiously. “Yet I think we get the same results.”

The captain smiled at his outburst and it seemed to Alec that the difference in their ages was fast disappearing.

“If what you say is true, Alec, your horse not only serves you as a racehorse but shares his life with you.”

They were interrupted as Odin crossed the room, opened the door without a glance in their direction, and went out. Alec noted that he was no longer wearing the crimson robe with the gold braid, but the black felt hat still covered his head. However, without the robe and the spear-tipped rod, he did not look so ominous.

The captain’s gaze left the closed door and returned to Alec. “You are alone with your horse in Florida?” he asked.

“Alone?” Alec repeated. “No, not exactly.” He offered no further explanation, thinking that if the captain was inquisitive enough about him and his horse, he might be able to trade information. He wanted to know why a famous horseman like the captain was living on a remote hammock in the Everglades.

“You said Odin goes where he pleases. Aren’t you worried?” he asked.

“No. I also told you he is very capable. He knows the swamp better than I do, and he is familiar with the Seminole tongue, so he has made friends in the nearby Indian village.” The captain paused, as if undecided whether to continue. A light flickered in his dark eyes; then, having made his decision, he went on. “Like the Seminoles, Odin is suspicious of the outside world. Lately, his antagonism seems to be directed toward the white men who are draining the Everglades. It is for that reason I told him you were my friend and asked you to take his hand.”

“I can understand his feelings,” Alec said.