Steve was behind him, his voice eager now. “Maybe that’s why he ran away—so he can come back again, I mean! He’s an intelligent animal, Pitch. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m not forgetting it,” Pitch returned agreeably.

Steve didn’t speak again until after they had opened their packs, and then his voice had lost its eagerness. “Or do you think, Pitch,” he asked slowly, “that he took too much punishment today, that he’ll never be the same? I’ve heard of such things happening to prize fighters.”

“This is a horse, Steve,” Pitch replied, “not a prize fighter. And, frankly, I don’t know anything about either of them.”

A few minutes later the fire was licking greedily beneath their stove.

“Pitch …”

Pitch turned to the boy, noting the tense face, the bright, excited eyes. “What is it now, Steve?” he asked.

“Tomorrow I’m going to look for Flame. Maybe I can help him some way. Maybe I can do something that’ll get him back to fight the Piebald—when he’s well again, I mean.”

“Sure, Steve. Maybe it’s a good idea.” Pitch felt certain that Steve wouldn’t even get a glimpse of the red stallion, much less be able to do anything to send him back to fight the Piebald. But searching for Flame would take his mind off the black-and-white stallion and his ridiculous notion of finding some way to kill him. Pitch found the thought comforting. “Open a can of beans, Steve,” he said. “The pot is ready.”

Steve set out alone early the next morning. Reaching the valley floor, he began crossing it to get to the far side. The horses had moved down the valley, but still could be easily seen.

As Steve walked along, his gaze remained on the Piebald. The breeze was coming from upwind, carrying the boy’s scent to the stallion. But Steve didn’t think that he was in any danger. The stallion would fight anything that threatened his supremacy of the band, but he wouldn’t go out looking for trouble. Steve realized, too, that his scent was something entirely new to the Piebald. It would bother him and he would be curious, but only if Steve approached the band would he be in any danger. And Steve planned to keep far away from the horses. He had nothing with which to protect himself. One of the coils of rope was all he carried, and that, he had told Pitch, was for Flame just in case he got close to him. Steve knew Pitch was watching him. He had promised him he’d go to the far side of the valley, away from the horses, before making his way down.