One swing will do it now, he told himself. One easy swing. Keep hold of the mane in case he bolts. Remember, you don’t have any bridle or saddle. You’ve got only your voice. Keep talking to him every second. You have to …

But he had already swung one leg from the rock and it was closely followed by the other as, with his hands resting upon Flame, he bore down on the stallion with all his weight.

Flame’s head came up quickly, but for a fraction of a second he didn’t move. And just then Steve pressed his knees against him and wrapped his fingers in the long mane. All the while he continued talking to his horse.

He felt Flame’s muscles grow taut beneath his knees. He talked faster, desperately trying to keep his voice from wavering. Flame crabstepped, forgetting his grazing. Then the tautness left his muscles and suddenly he bolted.

Steve, his face close to Flame’s neck, could use only his voice in an effort to slow the ever-lengthening, ever-faster strides of the stallion. But all he heard himself saying was, “Flame! Flame!” The wind tore the words from his mouth.

For some time the stallion ran with his ears flat against his head, yet there was no plunging to his gait, no attempt to unseat his rider.

Leaning forward, Steve pressed his mouth close to the stallion, “It’s me!” he cried. “Flame! Flame!” Repeatedly he shouted the horse’s name into the whipping wind.

The stallion’s ears pitched forward, and between them Steve could see the stream cutting across the valley. When Flame came to it he swerved sharply, and Steve moved his body with him. For the first time he felt a part of his horse!

It had come to him with the suddenness of the stallion’s shifting gait as he had turned across the valley. Now there was nothing fearful about the ever-lengthening strides or the wind that tore at his tear-filled eyes. Leaning forward, Steve moved with his horse, glorying in the surge of powerful muscles beneath his legs. No longer did he feel that the stallion was separate from him, that he was riding Flame. It was entirely different now. It was as though he and the horse were one. He was Flame! He thought the same, felt the same! They were running because they loved to run, because this was the way it was meant to be!

As they turned from the stream, heading down the valley once more, Steve heard himself clucking to his horse. Clucking to the rhythmic beat of thunderous hoofs upon soft turf and thinking that all this was far beyond his wildest dreams. For this wasn’t riding but being a part of a giant stallion who was his horse, his very own! It was flying without wings! It was wonderfully effortless and easy. He belonged there on Flame’s back.