But there are other horses here. They’re nothing like your imaginary Flame, but they’re horses nevertheless. Tom said he’d give you one if you stayed two weeks. You’ve always wanted a horse of your own, so here’s your chance. Tomorrow you can take a closer look at them. Tomorrow you can take your pick of them. Yes, and tomorrow Pitch wants to start digging. Pitch, the historian. Steve, the archaeologist. You’d better go to sleep now. It’s getting late, and the moon is well up.…

Steve didn’t know how long he’d slept when suddenly he found himself wide awake again. He must have slept for some time, he reasoned, for the moon was directly overhead. What had awakened him? It seemed to have been something loud and shrill, like a whistle. He must have been dreaming. Pitch was sleeping soundly beside him. The night was very still. Yes, it had been a dream. He’d better go back to sleep again.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard the loud snort of the stallion, followed by nervous neighs from the mares. Then there came the sound of restless hoofs against stones.

Steve opened his eyes, wondering why the horses were moving about. An animal? Perhaps. Maybe even the moon. He’d heard somewhere that a full moon could make horses restless. He turned over on his stomach, looking at the small band grouped near the opposite wall of the canyon. The moonlight made everything very distinct and he could see that all the horses were on their feet, moving about nervously. The stallion was trying to keep them together. One of the mares neighed loudly and the sound was echoed by the whinnies of the others. Several tried to break away from the group, but the stallion cut them off. He tossed his head, snorting repeatedly. It was obvious to Steve that the stallion was keeping the mares from breaking away. He watched for a long time, his eyes never leaving them.