“But, Pitch, Flame is different. He’s not at all like the Piebald. He knows me now, Pitch. He knows that I don’t mean any harm to him, that I’m only trying to help him.”

“You’ve got to stay away from him, Steve,” Pitch said with finality. “Whether he goes back to his band or not will be no concern of yours or mine. If we get him out of this, you’ll have to let him go where he pleases without having anything more to do with it. Only on that understanding will I go along with you.” Pitch paused before adding, “We’ll have enough to do trying to find our way out of here. I have some torches that’ll help us in getting around the tunnels.” Then, changing the subject abruptly, “Picked up another spur and a pistol today,” and he tapped his pockets.

But Steve wasn’t listening. After several minutes he said quietly, “Do you mean what you said, Pitch? That if we get him out, I have to let him go where he pleases?”

“Exactly,” Pitch replied. “Without chasing him any more. Without trying to help that wild stallion, who doesn’t want any help.”

“Okay, Pitch,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I agree. I’ll let him go where he pleases.” But there was a brightness in his eyes that Pitch didn’t understand.

“You take a rest now, while I clean the pots,” Pitch said. “You need a rest.”

Steve stretched out upon the ground, his head on his pack. “We’d better take our packs,” he said, closing his eyes, “just in case we have to spend the night there.”

“Sure,” Pitch replied.

“And Pitch, wait’ll you see him close! You’ll forget all those things in your pockets. You’ve never in your life …” Steve’s voice dropped to a mumble, then died altogether as he dozed off.

Pitch’s gaze left Steve for the pot he held in his hand. “I can hardly wait,” he muttered. “Hardly.”

LOWERED HEAD

13

The western walls of the valley were casting lengthening shadows over the cane as Steve and Pitch, crouched low, cautiously moved along beside it.

“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” Steve said.

“You needed it,” Pitch replied bluntly. “And we have hours of daylight ahead of us.” He pulled his pack higher on his back, but his eyes never left the bent-over figure ahead of him. After a while he asked with concern, “You don’t think that Piebald has moved, do you, Steve? Maybe we’d better look again.”

“We just got through looking,” Steve replied. “It’s better for us to keep going until we get downwind from him.”

“Maybe he’s coming across for water,” Pitch insisted gravely. “I don’t like this business, you know. That Piebald is capable of doing almost anything.”