And if it belonged to another country, a potential foreign enemy, he might be … Steve walked restlessly about the ledge, the skin drawn taut and white about his high cheekbones.

Was it any wonder that he was fearful, when all his life he had heard and read of the hatred among so many countries of the world? Was it not the reason for great standing armed forces and the fantastic advancement of secret weapons? Had he not seen with his own eyes the most powerful weapon of them all?

He stopped walking and told himself to forget all he had read about prejudices and misunderstandings between governments. If he thought only of Jay and Flick as they were everything would be all right again. He could trust them completely without preconceived suspicion and hatred, without alarm or dread, regardless of what country they were from.

For many minutes he stood still, trying to visualize their faces. How hard it was to form a mental picture of them! How long had they been gone? An hour, two hours at most.

He could remember details, their suits and shirts and ties, Jay’s heavy hair that was more blue than black and Flick’s short cropped head and small black mustache. But he couldn’t put everything together and say to himself, “This is Jay … and that’s Flick.” No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t form a mental image of their features, and he wanted so much to look into their eyes again. He knew that if he were able to do this, the inner warmth and trust would come once more.

He began walking again, making every effort to bring their faces to mind. But only an indistinct blur of faces resulted, not old, not young … real and yet not real. Finally, frustrated and angry with himself, he lay down upon his cot.

Looking up at the night sky, he thought, “At least I can remember that there was nothing sinister or evil about them. I know they were good faces, kind faces. Besides, how could anyone have listened to Jay and Flick argue like a couple of small kids and still be afraid of them? Jay was so irresponsible while Flick acted like the worst kind of a worrier, constantly reminding his friend that they were being neglectful of their shipboard duties. And Flick had gotten so angry when Jay said, ‘No wonder you’re gray long before your time. And wearing that ridiculous crew-cut doesn’t fool anyone either!’ ”

Steve laughed and closed his eyes. He had a teacher back home who wasn’t unlike Flick in that the older he got the shorter he had his hair cut and the louder became his clothes.

It was good to be able to laugh, to have confidence that he would get everything straightened out the next day and that there was nothing at all to fear. He settled down in the brisk coolness of the night, as did the mares and Flame in the valley below.

Early the next morning the red stallion stretched out his long legs to the greatest of strides. His hoofs hardly touched the cropped grass before he lifted them again, taking Steve down the valley with a speed that made the walled amphitheater much too small and confining.

As always when his horse was in full run, Steve had no alternative but to move forward over Flame’s withers, his knees pulled high to keep from falling off, his hands and head on the stallion’s neck. A silhouette would have revealed only the outlines of the horse, for Steve’s position never changed, even when Flame swept into sharp turns that took him across the valley and into the borders of the cane before he straightened out again.

After a long while Flame’s strides shortened. He slowed to a gallop and then finally to a walk, his body white with lather. When Steve slipped from the stallion’s back he was as sweaty as his horse. He pulled Flame’s head down toward him, breathing heavily. Suddenly a voice from behind said, “You should keep a hot horse moving, Steve!”

Steve whirled around to face Jay, then looked beyond.

Jay smiled and said, “I got away alone this time.”

Steve shifted his gaze back to this man, who came and went without his seeing him. Eagerly he scrutinized Jay’s face. Why hadn’t he been able to remember it last night or this morning? It seemed so easy now. Soft and kind, a most common face. But somehow Steve knew he’d never remember it once Jay had left him again. For it was real and yet not real. The eyes had color and yet were crystal clear without color. The skin was white and yet not white, without blemish—not even a stubble of beard—and ageless.

Finally Jay broke the long silence. “Nothing accounts for more hind end lameness than standing a hot horse. You’d better walk him, Steve.”

It was strange that only then did Steve think of Jay’s nearness to Flame. Quickly he turned to his horse.