“We actually saw a horse standing there?”

Nodding, Pitch replied in a voice so low Steve could barely make out his words. “I saw a horse. I’m sure I saw a horse,” he said, “but I can’t believe it.”

Steve, too, found it difficult to believe what only a few hours ago he would have accepted so eagerly and without question. But that was before Pitch had explained to him why he had always known this canyon of Azul Island.

The two lay on their blankets through the long hours before dawn, each knowing the other was not asleep, each alone with his thoughts. And every so often, first one and then the other would raise his head and look up at the cliff, only to find that there was nothing there.

The sky was becoming a dull gray when Steve said, “Pitch.”

“Yes, Steve.”

“We’re both very sure now?”

There was a moment’s silence before Pitch replied. “Yes, very sure. We couldn’t both have had the same illusion.”

“No,” Steve agreed, slowly. “We couldn’t have. It was a horse, all right … a very beautiful horse.” He didn’t call him Flame. He didn’t think of him as Flame. He didn’t know whether this horse was the color of fire or not. He didn’t care. This was no imaginary horse upon the cliff, but a giant stallion, very much alive. This was no dream, for Pitch too had seen him. This was reality. A horse had stood upon the cliff only a few hours ago.

Pitch said, “He was there. But how did he get there?” To Pitch, the horse on the cliff meant that there had to be more of Azul Island that was habitable than this canyon and the plain beyond. Otherwise, where could the horse have come from? It seemed impossible for the greater part of this island to consist of anything more than mountainous yellow rock, just as he’d told Steve. Yet he must be wrong, because living proof had stood upon the cliff.

They rose with the dawn and ate a hurried breakfast; then, without a word to each other, made for the end of the canyon. Arriving there, they looked up at the cliff, then cast their eyes over the sheer canyon walls. Very slowly they walked about the canyon, examining every foot of the walls in search of a possible way to the cliff from the canyon floor. Finally they were back from where they had started and Pitch said, “I’m certain now that he never reached the cliff from this canyon. It’s impossible for a human to do it, much less a horse.”

“Then he had to come from up there,” Steve said slowly.

“But from where, Steve?” Pitch asked incredulously. “Look at that sheer wall behind the cliff!”

Steve said, “We can see it rising above the cliff, but actually we can’t tell from down here what happens when it meets the cliff. There may be a cave or path or something. There has to be a way. He got there.”

“Yes,” Pitch agreed, “there has to be a way.” Then he became excited. “Do you know what this means, Steve?”

“It means there has to be more to Azul Island than you thought,” Steve returned.

“More than anyone thought,” Pitch corrected hastily. “More than anyone has ever dreamed! Why, Steve, the presence of that horse up on the cliff has to mean that the Spaniards did inhabit this island at one time! How else did that horse get up there? Could Tom or anyone else now have the audacity to tell me that the Antago chamber of commerce was responsible for him too? Not for one moment, Steve!”

Steve smiled at Pitch’s last remark, but the intent look in his friend’s eyes convinced him that Pitch had not intended to be humorous. “You’re right, Pitch,” Steve said seriously.