He stood knee-deep in lush grass. And the dusk cloaked his torn body in a soft veil of gray, concealing the ravaged flesh.

His long neck was stretched down to the stream and the blood-matted mane fell about his head as he drank deeply.

Pitch and Steve had stopped in their tracks. For different reasons, neither dared to move as they watched the red stallion. Pitch was afraid to move, lest the stallion attack them; while Steve was afraid his horse would run away again once he became aware of their presence.

“What’ll we do, Steve?” Pitch asked anxiously. “We can’t camp here with him around. He might kill us.”

Steve didn’t answer; his eyes were upon Flame.

Pitch said, “We can go back to the cavern. We can stay there tonight.”

“We need our packs,” Steve said simply. “We need food and water. We’ve got to stay here, Pitch. He won’t bother us. I’m sure he won’t bother us.”

“Maybe he’ll move away, farther from our packs,” Pitch said hopefully. “Then we can get them and run for it.”

The red stallion raised his head, ears pricked forward. Without moving his body, he turned his eyes in their direction. For all of a minute he stood there, quietly watching them; then he went back to his grazing.

“You see, Pitch!” Steve’s words came fast. “He’d never bother us. He’s seen us, but it hasn’t made any difference to him. He’s not even leaving!”

Pitch was talking now, but Steve didn’t listen. He hadn’t lost his horse after all! Flame was here, less than a hundred yards from where they stood! And most important, oh! most important of all, was that he hadn’t run away again at the sight of them. It was as though the stallion had accepted them. It was almost as though he knew they had helped him. Steve felt it had to be this way.

“Steve! What’s the matter with you? You’re not even listening to me!” Pitch saw the specks of light in Steve’s eyes, and he knew that look, knew what it meant.

Steve walked forward.

“Steve! You promised me you wouldn’t go near him! You gave me your word! Steve!”

The boy’s footsteps came to a halt, but he didn’t turn to Pitch as he said, “I’m only going for the packs, Pitch. I’m not chasing him. I promised you I wouldn’t chase him.”

“But, Steve, he might …”

The boy was walking forward again, toward the packs, toward the stallion! Pitch stood still, not knowing what to do, but his eyes never left the boy.