Flame had scattered them to the far corners of the valley by his playful but rough antics. Steve went to the pool and ducked his head in the cool waters. Flame joined him, snorting and lowering his small head to drink. As always, Steve marveled when after a few swallows Flame left the pool to rejoin his band. Hot as he was, thirsty as he was, this wild stallion would drink very little when overheated. Steve wondered how many domestic horses would have left the cool water as Flame had done.

Now too happy and tired to move, Steve stretched out on the soft carpet of grass. It had been a long hard day but just being back made everything all right again. What could be more wonderful than this? He had found that even the confusion of a small island like Antago bothered him now. He was well spoiled. But who wouldn’t be, having found a lost world inhabited only by Flame and his band? It was a world free of every care except the care of horses.

Steve lay back, resting his head on his clasped hands, a long blade of succulent grass between his lips. He looked at the late afternoon sky with its light wisps of rippling clouds. The sun was well down behind the barrier walls, and Blue Valley was as blue as blue could be and very, very pleasant.

He supposed that if the day ever came when an airplane flew close to the dome of this island its pilot would know there was a valley down here. But the pilot would really have to be looking to find it. And where would such a plane be heading anyway? There was no land to the east as far as Africa, and the transatlantic airlines came nowhere near Azul Island. To the west there was only Antago, and no airline served that remote island outpost in the Caribbean Sea. Nor was there any nearby airport to service private planes.

Steve had no fear of discovery of his lost world from the sea. A few tramp steamers put in each year at Antago, but the more traveled sea lanes between North and South America were much farther to the east and west. Besides, no captain in his right mind would approach very close to Azul Island; it looked like a massive, egg-shaped boulder and was ringed by dangerous reefs. Small launches could get only to the island’s small southern sandspit, and from there it was impossible to reach Blue Valley or even to learn of its existence. Natives of Antago said of Azul Island, “Except for the sandspit it’s nothing but solid rock.” Well, let them go on believing so.

Steve closed his eyes but quickly opened them again. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He had some work to do before it got dark. Pitch wouldn’t be around tonight to help get camp in order and do the cooking. He wouldn’t be around for many nights to come, for that matter. But it was as Steve had wanted it. He hadn’t liked the idea of staying at Pitch’s home in Antago while his elderly friend was doing his historical research in the New York libraries and museums.

Pitch had finally consented to Steve’s remaining alone in Blue Valley, knowing full well that he could take care of himself. But he wasn’t really alone, Steve reminded himself. He had Flame and the band. It was exciting being the only one on the island with them. Somehow it changed things a lot not to have Pitch around.