At the gate, Pitch turned to Steve. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I knew that by talking it over with you we’d work something out. I never would have thought of going ahead alone and, perhaps, if I were lucky, making a name for myself. But I’m ready for it now, Steve,” he said, smiling. “I’m just as confident as can be!”

They walked down the street with Pitch protecting Steve’s broken arm from the crowd. They were passing a shipping office when Steve called Pitch’s attention to a large blackboard. “Due next Monday,” they read, “the S. S. Horn. Sails same day. Cargo space available for Puerto Rico, Haiti and the United States. Mail closes seven A.M. day of departure.”

“She’s on schedule,” Steve said.

“I’m going to miss you, Steve.”

“It won’t be long before I’ll be back again,” the boy said. “But I’ll be missing you, too, Pitch.”

In the next block, they found a taxi and climbed inside. Their driver was about to pull away from the curb when a large truck drew up alongside. The man behind the wheel of the truck shouted to them, and Steve was the first to recognize Tom.

Steve sat back in his seat, but Pitch leaned out the window and greeted his stepbrother.

Then Steve heard Tom say, “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll be out to the house right after. Didn’t think you’d last the two weeks on Azul. Tell the kid I said that. Tell him he won his bet and can have any horse on the island he wants—if he still wants any of ’em,” he added, laughing; then Tom had his truck in gear and went on ahead.

“Well, you’ve got your horse,” Pitch said, smiling.

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “I have him, all right.”

And once more Steve was riding Flame, his face pressed close to the silken neck as the red stallion swept about an arena whose towering yellow walls were the only spectators.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Walter Farley’s love for horses began when he was a small boy living in Syracuse, New York, and continued as he grew up in New York City, where his family moved. Unlike most city children, he was able to fulfill this love through an uncle who was a professional horseman. Young Walter spent much of his time with this uncle, learning about the different kinds of horse training and the people associated with them.

Walter Farley began to write his first book, The Black Stallion, while he was a student at Brooklyn’s Erasmus Hall High School and Mercersburg Academy in Pennsylvania. He eventually finished it, and it was published in 1941 while he was still an undergraduate at Columbia University.