“Tomorrow?” Pitch’s blue eyes met Steve’s. “Why, I guess so. I’m pretty much of a greenhorn when it comes to a camping trip, but I guess I have most everything ready for it.” He paused, a look of concern upon his face. “You’re sure you want to go to Azul Island more than anything else, Steve? It’s your vacation, you know, and I’d hate to have you go there solely on my account.”

Steve smiled. “It’s not … it’s on my own account that I want to go.”

A few minutes later the car turned down a long driveway, and Steve saw the large house at the end. But between them and the house, not far off the road, he saw a corral. A tawny-colored horse with a long, unkempt mane was running about the ring. Steve heard Pitch say, “There’s one of the horses from Azul Island.”

BULL WHIP AND BOTTLE

2

Standing in the center of the corral was a giant of a man, heavy limbed and long armed. In one hand he held a bull whip, and in his other the lead rope that was attached to the bridle of the horse that was running about the ring. The animal rolled his eyes restlessly, but he never actually ceased watching the man who held him. The man, too, had eyes for nothing but the horse.

Pitch brought the car to a stop opposite the corral. He and Steve were but thirty feet away now, and two men sitting on the fence waved to Pitch. But the eyes of the man in the center of the ring remained on the horse.

Pitch said, “That’s Tom.” He said it matter-of-factly, as though leaving it to Steve to draw his own conclusions.

Tom! This man was Tom Pitcher? This towering giant, who could make six of Pitch? It was hard to believe; for never, Steve thought, had he seen two men more unlike each other. And these two were brothers? Stepbrothers, he reminded himself. But even so, he’d expected some resemblance.

The sharp crack of the bull whip brought his attention back to the scene before him. Trotting faster about the corral, the terrified horse snorted continually, his eyes shifting from the man who turned slowly with him to the long leather whip that lay snakelike on the ground between them.

Steve’s gaze swept over the horse. Instinctively he noted the large head with long, almost mulelike ears; the shaggy, unkempt mane matted with dirt; and the small, wiry body bleached with dust and hardened sweat. Steve watched him as he moved ever faster about the corral, fearful of the bull whip which sprang at him like a striking black snake whenever he slowed his gait.