At the base of the opposite wall were three shovels, two picks, an axe and a pile of rope. Beside them were two rolled sleeping bags and a half-filled box of canned foods. In the center of the ledge was a small but efficient two-plate kerosene stove, and next to it all the pots, pans and eating utensils they’d ever need. Just within the entrance of the cave Steve saw a box containing two flashlights, a camera, more tools and a pile of other things. Yes, during the ten months he’d been away from Blue Valley, Pitch had well equipped the camp with supplies from Antago.

“You’re writing about everything?” he asked Pitch.

“Yes, Steve. I began with our finding the entrance to the tunnels, and then have gone on covering just about everything I’ve seen and done during the time you’ve been away. I’ve given a detailed account of every discovery, every trip I’ve taken through the tunnels. I’ve taken photographs of Blue Valley, the smaller valley and the canyons and gorges. Also, I’ve given what I believe from my findings is an accurate history of the island. I’ve stated that I believe that this island, like Cuba and Puerto Rico, was used as a supply base by the Spaniards during their conquest of the New World. From here they equipped their armies with provisions and weapons …”

“And horses,” Steve interrupted.

“Yes, horses,” Pitch agreed. “Horses of purest blood, they were. The very finest specimens of their race to be obtained in Spain. Horses who faced the battles and world-shaking adventures with the men of Cortés, the Pizarros and DeSoto in their conquest of the Americas!” Pitch’s eyes were bright with his enthusiasm. “I’ve mentioned, too, Steve, that I believe this island was the Spaniards’ very last stronghold in the Caribbean Sea. I feel that when the English and French drove back the Spanish armies in the latter part of the seventeenth century, the Spaniards retreated to this natural fortress. But in time they had to forsake this island hurriedly, and they left behind the ancestors of the horses we have in Blue Valley today.”

Pitch walked over to the stove, and Steve followed. “But you’re not finished with your work, are you, Pitch?” he asked quickly.

“Oh, no, not by any means, Steve. There’s much more I want to add to it, many more years of excavation work, tunnel explorations and writing before the complete job is done the way I want to do it and I can send my manuscript to an historical society.”

The boy’s tense body relaxed as he listened to his friend. He knew that when Pitch finished his work and his discoveries were made public this world would no longer belong solely to them. But Pitch had said that it would take years before his work was complete. The longer it took the better, Steve felt. He loved Flame and his band and Blue Valley too much just as they were to be ashamed of feeling as he did.

Pitch was speaking again. “Oh, and I’ve drawn a map of the island,” he said. “It’s not a very professional map, but I want to show it to you.”

He went to the wooden box just within the cave’s entrance and withdrew a large, rolled paper. He placed it on the box he’d used for a table, then called Steve while unrolling the map.

“Now,” he said, looking up at the night sky, “let’s pretend we’re up there over Azul Island and looking down. Not that you’d actually be able to see much of what I have on this map if you were in a plane flying over Azul Island,” he explained hurriedly. “If that ever did happen—and it never has so far—and you could get close enough to the dome, you’d know there was a valley down here, but little more. Anyway,” he continued, “it’s just the effect I want you to have. Try to put yourself up there and pretend you’ve got x-ray eyes so you can see right through the rock to the tunnels when necessary.” He laughed at his last remark, then took a pencil from his pocket and placed the point on the map.

“Here’s the island, running north and south.