The Island Stallion Read Online Free Page B

fingers digging into the sides of his scalp. “Two weeks,” he said. “Phil, you should know better, even if the kid doesn’t. What in God’s name are you going to do for two weeks on a spit of ground that’s nothing more than a windswept sandbar? You’ll go crazy. You won’t spend two days there, let alone two weeks,” he concluded, bursting into laughter again.
    “I plan to do quite a bit of digging,” Pitch said. “And Steve seems very much interested.”
    Tom turned to Steve, his black eyes smiling butprobing at the same time. “You’re interested?” he asked. “Interested in what?”
    Steve’s reply came quickly, instinctively. “Archaeology,” he said. And he wondered why he’d said it and how he had remembered a word he’d never used outside of his ancient-history class at school.
    He saw Tom’s brow furrow. Then Pitch said, “You see?”
    “No,” Tom returned, sarcastically. “No, I don’t see. Nor can I see you two spending two weeks in that Godforsaken spot!” Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet, towering above them.
    “We’ll stay,” Steve said quietly.
    Tom looked at him. “You’ve never been to Azul, and you’re so sure?” he asked contemptuously.
    Steve nodded without speaking.
    Tom walked around the table, his eyes still on the boy. Then he came to a stop and Steve saw the smile on the thin lips again. Tom said quickly, “Phil told me the other day that you wanted a horse more than anything else when you were a kid. Do you still want one?”
    “Yes,” Steve replied, slowly. “I do. Why?”
    “Then take a look at those horses on Azul Island and take your pick of any one of them. If you stay two weeks on the island, I’ll give him to you!” Laughing, Tom left the room.
    Pitch was talking to Steve now, telling him what they’d have to do that evening to prepare for their trip to Azul Island. But Steve wasn’t listening. Instead, he was thinking of Tom’s parting wager. Two weeks on the island, and he could have his pick of any of the horses there!

U NPLEASANT A WAKENING

3
    The following morning they left Antago as the sun rose out of the sea, and soon were well out of sight of land. Pitch sat behind the wheel of the motor launch, his round face tense as the boat pushed its sharp prow into the heavy sea. Occasionally Steve heard him say something about being a greenhorn when it came to navigation, and that he was much better getting around on land. But Steve had little doubt that Pitch would find Azul Island. Pitch’s boat, too, although an old one, was in excellent condition and very seaworthy. She rolled slightly with the waves, making Steve feel a little uncomfortable in the region of his stomach, but he felt that he could stand anything now that he was actually on his way to Azul Island.
    It had worked out nicely, he thought. Pitch’s own interest in the island and his desire to go there had made it easy for Steve.
    The hours dragged on, and the sun beat mercilessly down upon the open boat. Steve was thankful forthe hat that Pitch had made him bring along. Turning to his friend, he saw that Pitch was facing straight ahead, but with half-closed eyes, as though he were deep in concentration. Steve looked back at their wake and at the small dory they were towing. Pitch had insisted upon taking it along just in case something should go wrong with the launch’s motor. And lying in the back of the launch were the two backpacks that he and Pitch had crammed with tinned food, cooking utensils and a tiny stove. Beside them lay the folded canvas tent, and next to that the pick and shovel.
    Steve’s eyes remained upon the last-named objects. He wondered if Pitch would mind very much when he confessed to him that he really wasn’t interested in digging up the earth in search of relics the Spaniards might have left there. Tonight he planned to tell Pitch exactly why he had come, why he wanted to explore every foot of Azul Island. And he wondered what Pitch’s