Not a muscle of the red stallion’s body moved, but he sensed danger. His coat and long mane were matted with his opponents’ blood as well as his own; his mouth was raw and red from the fury of his battles. Yet he raised his head arrogantly and fire still burned in his startled eyes. He was alert and suspicious of an enemy he could not see. The scent that came to his sensitive nostrils was of an animal unknown to him. His small head moved slowly over the grass, his neck so tense that the great muscles bulged beneath his velvet-soft coat. He was accustomed to facing danger. Yet now, after a few minutes of patient watchfulness, he turned away, frightened. Quickly he moved farther up the valley. The fear that was slowly taking over his tired body was as new and strange to him as the scent that now came to his nostrils.

Steve had remained absolutely still, close enough to watch the stallion as he wheeled on rigid hind legs and made off for the far end of the valley.

Now Steve stood up amid the cane, realizing that the stallion knew of his presence in the valley. He can’t go far, Steve told himself. There’s no place to go up there.

And there’s no sense in my hiding from him, he thought. The only way I can do anything for him is to win his confidence. He’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever dreamed of! If there ever was a perfect horse, he’s it. And he’s not hurt badly. I can tell from the free, easy strides he’s taking. He’s been cut up plenty. But he’ll be well in a few days, for wounds heal fast in a wild, healthy animal like him. He’s tired more than anything else now. I know he can beat the Piebald. He could whip anything! He was smart enough to get away, to wait until he’s ready to meet the Piebald again, and on an equal basis. He’ll go back to his band. He’s been their leader too long to keep away from them, to live alone—an outcast.

At the end of the valley, the red stallion came to a stop, then wheeled around. His small ears were pricked forward, alert for the slightest sound; his muscles were tense and ready, as were his wits. But he needed only his eyes to see his foe. His shifting gaze easily picked up the two-legged figure walking through the tall grass, coming steadily in his direction. His gigantic body trembled and he opened his blood-caked mouth to bare his teeth. He moved about restlessly, but neither drew away nor advanced to meet this new foe. His thin-skinned nostrils quivered, then curled. Finally he shattered the stillness of the valley with his whistle. Shrill, loud and clear, it reverberated from wall to wall!