Only two days ago—then this was his third day here. It was incomprehensible to Steve. Surely hours and days were no way of measuring time! Time should be reckoned by events that happen to a person, and not by the lapse of hours! It seemed months ago—almost years—since he and Pitch had headed for the sandy spit of land that was known as the only habitable part of Azul Island.

When Steve came to the marsh, he saw that the vapors were rising only from the low end of the hollow, near the cane. He made his way down the long stretches of soft green ground which still bore Flame’s hoofprints. Now for the top of the rise leading from the hollow. From there he would be able to see the floor of the valley—and he would be looking for the Piebald. It would be the black-and-white-streaked stallion who would dictate the direction he would take in his journey back to camp.

He was eager to reach Pitch. He would tell him how he had found Flame and helped him, just as he’d said he was going to do. He’d tell Pitch he needed his help now; it would mean going back to the cavern this very same day and probably spending the night there. Surely Pitch would understand that Flame had to be swung clear of the pit today.

“I’ll help Flame return to his band,” Steve told himself. “I’ll take care of his wounds.”

It had been only a short time ago that Steve had recoiled in fear at the viciousness of the stallion, yet now there was no fear within him as he thought of aiding Flame. Along with many details of the scene in the cave, his fear also was forgotten.

Reaching the flat top of the hollow, he stood looking at the grassy plain stretching before him. A little to his left was the cane, and beyond that the green velvet floor of the valley. Far off, a silken sheet of water fell from the high tunnel to the pool below.

It was a few minutes before Steve saw the Piebald and his newly acquired band, for they had moved away from the pool and were grazing far across the valley. The boy quickened his pace when he realized that it would be safe for him to stay on his side of the valley.

When he came to the cane he bent low beneath it to keep out of sight. The Piebald was upwind from him, so Steve knew his scent would not betray his presence. All he had to do was to keep from being seen. The Piebald was too far away to give him any trouble.

As Steve drew parallel with the band, he stopped for a moment to look over the cane at the black-and-white stallion.