Steve held the cloth in his other hand. He hesitated a moment before taking this next step, knowing full well that possibly it might be the last time he would be able to stand so close to his horse; for he had decided to hold the cloth on the wound as long as he could. He would not dab as he had done that morning, when he had been using only water.

Flame stomped his hind foot and swished his long tail about. He had stopped drinking and was moving to a new spot to graze. Steve walked along with him, his hand still upon him.

Finally the stallion came to a halt again. Steve glanced at the folded gauze in his hand, then at the flesh ravaged by the Piebald. Now was the time. The muscles in his face became taut, and then his hand moved forward, slowly at first until the gauze was but a few inches from the wound. He kept talking to the stallion as he placed the cloth over the wound and pressed it firmly onto the flesh.

For a fraction of a second the stallion stood still; then, as the diluted iodine penetrated his raw skin, he snorted and sidestepped quickly.

Steve watched him go, knowing the job had been done.

Flame galloped in long, fast strides until he reached the walls; then he slowed down to a trot before he finally stopped. He turned to the boy, shrilling loudly, as though in reproach; then he went back to his grazing.

It stung him only for a few seconds, Steve thought. He really didn’t act up as much as I thought he might. And it’s done now.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Steve turned. “You got it on him?” Pitch asked. Steve nodded, and together they walked back to their packs.

A short time later Steve watched Pitch cross the valley floor and disappear within the gorge; then the boy sat down upon his unrolled blanket.

Flame was grazing about a quarter of a mile away.

Steve’s eyes rested on the stallion for a long time. Then he thought, I’d better leave him alone for a little while longer. If I don’t go after him, perhaps he’ll come to me. I don’t want to push him. I want him to come to me. It’s better that way.

Large, billowy clouds appeared overhead, but through them burst the morning sun, warming the upper valley with its light. Steve, welcoming the sun’s rays, lay back on the blanket, his head turned to one side and his eyes resting on Flame. The stallion had moved from the shadows along the walls out into the sun, and his body glowed a fiery red. His long tail no longer trailed the ground but swished constantly about his body.

“Flies,” muttered Steve. “They’re starting to bother him.”