“If it weren’t for him,” he told Steve one night, “I could get around this valley a lot easier. I’m certain I could find plenty by doing some digging down there, but he keeps me away. Oh, I’m not thinking of right now, Steve, because I have plenty of stuff to take back on this trip. I don’t want to bring back too much, you know, for fear someone will get wise to what we’ve found. But later on I’d like to look around the valley floor—do a thorough job of it, I mean. I can’t with that Piebald around.” And then Pitch had stopped, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Steve. “But I could do it if Flame led the band again,” he went on. “When do you think he’ll be coming back, Steve? He’s going to return to his band, isn’t he? He won’t just stay in the smaller valley, will he?”

Steve had merely shrugged his shoulders, and before Pitch could continue, the boy had changed the subject.

This dawn, as Steve walked through the gorge toward the smaller valley, he thought: Should it be this morning? Have I waited long enough? Flame lets me put my weight on him. He’s never given me any trouble. What difference will it make to him whether I’m leaning on him or sitting upon his back? I just want to sit there, that’s all I want to do.

For the first few days, Steve had only dreamed of riding his horse, but then dreams had given way to a great desire actually to press his knees close to the muscled withers, to sit astride his horse. So for many hours he had stood and walked patiently beside Flame, his weight resting more and more heavily upon the red stallion.

The smaller valley opened before Steve, and the boy’s eyes eagerly sought Flame. He found him in the center of the valley. Already Flame had turned in his direction with ears pricked forward, alert to the slightest sound, and head craned high.

Steve called to him, but even before the words had left his mouth, the valley echoed to the shrill whistle of the stallion; then Flame was moving toward him, no longer hesitant as in earlier days, no longer stopping to graze, but taking long, swift strides, his long tail and mane whipping the air like searing flame. He swept across the valley floor until he reached the ascent to the gorge, where suddenly he came to a stop. Shaking his head, he whinnied repeatedly, his eyes never leaving the boy.

And as Steve walked forward to meet him, the brightness left the boy’s eyes for a fraction of a second, to be replaced by soberness.