But stop thinking about it, Pitch told himself almost angrily. Maybe Steve can do without sleep, but you can’t. You’re getting old, man. You need your sleep. Steve’s young. He’s all right—he’ll always be all right. You don’t have to worry about anything. And if you have to think, you’d better think about the sea exit and what you might find in some of those other caves in Blue Valley. Better still, don’t think of anything until tomorrow. Tomorrow you can start looking for the way back to the dory, too. Steve will want to stay with his horse. You might as well accept that now, because nothing is more important to Steve than what he’s doing now. He might not like you to go alone, but just tell him you want to look around the caves all by yourself. Tell him you can get around faster that way, since you know exactly what you’re looking for. That’s a laugh, your getting around faster without Steve.…

Pitch’s eyes left the boy and horse and turned to the stars overhead again. After many minutes, heavy lids dropped over his eyes and his breathing became deeper as he fell asleep.

When Pitch opened his eyes again, the gray light of dawn had blotted out the stars. For a moment Pitch could have been anywhere; then he heard the shrill call of the stallion and it pierced his sleep-laden mind, bringing it back to reality. Quickly he turned to the blanket beside him. It was empty but wrinkled, and at least he knew that Steve had lain down on it sometime during the night.

As he glanced over toward the walls, he noticed that the stove was already burning.

A hundred yards beyond, Pitch saw the stallion slowly moving away from Steve, who stood watching him. Steve was holding a pot in his hand; he turned just then and started back toward the stove.

Pitch rose to his feet and went over to the stove. He waited until Steve was within earshot before asking, “Have you been up the whole night?”

There were dark circles under Steve’s eyes. “I slept a little,” he said, placing the pot down on the ground.

“What have you been up to?”

“He’s got a bad cut on his chest,” Steve replied. “It was dirty. I cleaned it just now.”

Pitch cast a quick glance at the first-aid kit that lay on the ground beside Steve’s pack. The package of gauze was open.

“I just used hot water and soap,” Steve was saying as he bent over the kit. “I want to put some iodine on the cut a little later on.”

“But maybe iodine is too strong for him, Steve,” Pitch protested. “It’ll burn like the devil. Have you thought of that? It might undo all the good you’ve done.”