The Black Stallion and Flame Read Free Page A

perspiration on his brow oozing down the deeply etched lines of his face, and his big-knuckled hands gripping the sides of his seat.
    Alec turned away, certain that Henry was prepared for any emergency even if he didn’t look as if he were. One didn’t ride fast horses, both on the flat and over jumps as Henry had done, without developing confidence in an ability to get out of jams.
    Alec glanced at the tall black stallion, standing almost listlessly in his box a few feet away. If Alec had any protective shell like Henry’s it was his horse who provided it, and he turned to him now for solace.
    The strong wooden box was reinforced with metal and lined inside with straw and sack padding. Alec spoke to the Black in their secret language and the stallion raised his head, pulling against the tie-shank. The effect of the injections would last a little longer, Alecknew. It had taken two shots to quiet the Black—but without them the stallion would have battered down the sides of the box. As it was, much of the padding was strewn about the floor.
    The Black closed his eyes again. He was extremely sensitive to words and sounds, including clicking of the tongue and whistling. Alec made good use of his knowledge of this, both in praise and reproach. Various pitches of his voice meant different things to the Black, and at home Alec had a secret book in which he kept the musical notes of their special language.
    Even with his head down and eyes closed the tall stallion looked every bit the champion he was. His small, delicate ears were cocked forward as he dozed and the long nostrils were dilated as if to catch the slightest scent of danger. His giant body was tough yet satin-smooth. His strong legs were clean and bare of shipping bandages while bulging sinews stood out prominently beneath the skin.
    The Black snored and dreamed of other nights and times, of running fresh and free. He hated to be pampered, to be bathed and washed and wrapped in blankets while his hoofs were cleaned and trimmed. Much, much better for his hide to be washed cool by strong winds and rains and warmed by many suns and for his hoofs to be trimmed on flying rocks. He was all stallion and he knew it—strong, arrogant and cunning. Every savage instinct in him constantly sought release from the domestic life he led. Only his love for Alec and the boy’s love for him kept him under control. Yet there were times like this when he dreamed of another kind of life, one he had known long ago.
    Alec turned to the broodmares and yearlings. Theywere standing in boxes similar to the Black’s, two abreast and stretching almost the whole length of the cabin. Farther aft was the rest of the cargo, most of it huge wooden crates of machinery. Everything was carefully balanced to enable the plane’s big engines to conquer gravity while hauling over seventy thousand pounds across the ocean. Despite the storm none of the crates seemed to have shifted.
    Alec glanced out the window. There was no break in the heavy overcast but the winds had died as suddenly as they’d come up hours before. Perhaps the captain would find an opening below. The slight pressure in his ears told him they were descending. They might even find land. He had to think that way now.…
    Alec turned back to the horses and to the groom who had charge of the mares. The man had unusually long arms, which hung loosely against the sides of his slight, frail body. His skin was very tanned, and he had prominent cheekbones and a long, narrow hooked nose. His appearance was not improved by an Adam’s apple the size of a small red balloon, which worked continually up and down while he listened to the navigator, who had moved over beside him.
    Alec sincerely hoped that the navigator would be able to convince this man that everything was going to be all right. For here was a case of somebody seeming to be paralyzed by his own fear. The groom hadn’t budged in his seat for hours.
    Earlier in the flight Alec had