He stopped, but Pitch still hadn’t turned around to face him. Striding over to Pitch, he knelt down beside him. “Pitch, you remember what we both thought of the Conquistadores when we saw those chains around the bones of the skeletons in the dungeon.” Steve’s voice was husky but no longer pleading. “It’s the same thing, Pitch. If I don’t go back, I’ll be no better than they were. He’s just as much alive as any human being. I’ve got to go back. You see that, don’t you, Pitch? I’ve either got to get him out or let him down all the way. You understand that, don’t you?”

Steve said no more, and there was a long silence between the two.

Then Pitch said slowly and in a voice that shook with emotion, “I realize. I understand, Steve.” Removing the beans from the stove, he dumped them with trembling hands into the tin plate before Steve. “Eat this, then, and we’ll be going.”

The tautness of Steve’s muscles was released with the speed of a spring as he cried, “You mean it, Pitch! You’ll go with me!”

Pitch was busy extinguishing the fire, and there was a pause before he replied, “Yes, I’m going, Steve. What else can I do?”

Steve’s face sobered, then lighted up again as he began making plans for their return trip. “I want to be sure to take along the first-aid kit,” he said quickly.

“Eat your food while it’s hot,” Pitch ordered. Between mouthfuls Steve said, “He’s been badly cut, Pitch, but I can help him. We should get back soon, though. He’s probably still fighting, trying to get clear of the pit. Each hour he’s there means a day longer in his recovery.”

Pitch waited until Steve had finished eating before he said, “Steve, if we do succeed in getting him out of the pit, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll have nothing more to do with him. By that I mean I want you to forget about helping him, forget about that red stallion.”

“You mean—” Steve began.

“Exactly that, Steve,” Pitch interrupted, and his voice was harsh. “You will have nothing more to do with him. It has to be that way. I know he’s everything you ever hoped to see in a horse—and I know now, if I never quite knew before, how much you love horses. But Steve, he’s as vicious and wild as—why, that Piebald! There’s no difference in their natures. They’re both from the same mold. They were born wild, Steve, and meant to stay wild. You’ve got to realize that before you’re killed.”