After a moment of silence, he said slowly, choosing his words with great care, “You haven’t thought this out, Steve. You don’t realize the consequences of what you’re planning to do. Even if you are successful in getting Flame off the island, what will you do with him—a wild stallion? And there’s Tom. What do you think his reaction will be? What of all this?” Pitch gestured toward the towering walls whose summits seemed to reach the darkening sky. “It could possibly be the end of this lost world, you know—a world only the two of us know.” Then he looked straight at Steve, his words clipped and his eyes unwavering as he asked, almost angrily, “And what about your band, Steve? What about all your talk of maintaining this perfect breed of horse? It wasn’t long ago that you said you’d do anything to keep the band as it is. You were going to find some way to kill the Piebald. Remember?”

Steve’s tanned face flushed as he turned from Pitch’s accusing gaze to look at the dark figures of the horses as they moved quietly in the dusk.

“I didn’t mean to be unkind,” Pitch said quickly. “I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just that I’m finding it difficult to keep pace with your reasoning. Why are you so certain that Flame won’t return to his band? Is there actually a reason or is it your riding him that has brought about this sudden decision to take him away?”

Pitch waited for Steve’s reply, but it was several moments before the boy said in a very low voice, “He’s afraid.”

Pitch leaned forward, “I didn’t hear you, Steve.”

Steve turned to his friend. The words came hard, but he repeated them. “He’s afraid.… ”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

“Of … of the Piebald.” Steve’s voice wavered, for Flame’s fear of the black-and-white stallion was something he had wanted to keep to himself. But there was no alternative now; he had to tell Pitch everything. “He’s not coming back, Pitch. He’ll never return to his band while the Piebald is there. He won’t go near the gorge leading back to Blue Valley. I’ve known it for a long time.”

Pitch remained silent, but his gaze swept to the band and to the Piebald in the valley below.

“I can’t leave him alone, Pitch.” Steve’s words came faster now. “What good would come of it? He’d stay in the smaller valley until he died, and he’s not meant to be an outcast like that. He needs affection. He’s my horse, and I want him.”

“So much that you don’t care what happens to the band,” Pitch said, without turning to the boy.