The Island Stallion Races Read Online Free

wondered at his lack of appetite. He was still shivering. He had brought no sweaters, no woolen clothes to the tropics. Then he remembered the light blankets and got one to wrap around himself. He didn’t lie down, for he knew he couldn’t sleep. He sat in a deep-seated canvas chair, watching and listening to the torrential downpour outside. It was going to be a long, long night.
    Now, if Pitch were here it would be different, he thought. They’d watch the cold rain together and talk about how unusual it was. Pitch would insist upon having a big, hot meal. Afterward Pitch would sit beside him, smoking his pipe and telling about his latest tunnel exploration.
    Steve closed his eyes so as not to see the rain any more. He would have liked to close his ears to it too. The rain wasn’t helping matters at all. He wished that Pitch were there with him. He could have discussed with him all he’d seen at sunset, and then he would have been able to forget it and go to sleep.
    Perhaps all he had to do was to pretend that Pitch was sitting over there in the other chair, listening. It wasn’t hard to visualize Pitch with his bared, knobby knees covered by a blanket, his round face boyish and jovial despite his fifty-odd years. Pitch would be looking very serious, very intent.
    And he, Steve, would be saying, “Pitch, the strangest thing happened today. For a while I was asscared as I’ll ever be in my life, but now that I know what actually happened it makes a great story. There I was down in the valley with Flame when …”
    Steve went to sleep with his lips moving, explaining to Pitch all that had happened at sunset.

T HE N EW D AY

3
    Steve awakened to a morning unlike any he had ever known on Azul Island. The air was so crystal clear that only the finest of fall days in the northern hemisphere could have been compared with it. Never had his valley been more beautiful; it was a sky-blue gem set in soft, warm, molten gold.
    Steve breathed deeply and felt his whole being expand with the exhilarating air. It was as though he’d never really breathed before! Would Pitch believe this, when he told him? Would Pitch be able to imagine that a hard, cold rain such as they’d had the night before could wash the valley and air as never before, breathing new life into everything? Look at the horses! Look at Flame! They were frolicking, playing like young weanling colts, every one of them!
    Listen to the birds! Where were they? Few birds ever came to Blue Valley and then they never stayed very long. They preferred the lush, green, volcanic islands such as Antago to the comparative coral-rock barrennessof Azul. Steve swept his eyes over the wild cane below, where the birds probably had gone in search of cover. He didn’t see them yet their songs filled the valley, echoing and re-echoing from the walls.
    There, up the trail! He saw them then, perched on the jagged rocks beside the waterfall. There were only two, but their incessant calls made it sound as though a whole flock of birds had migrated to Blue Valley.
    Steve’s gaze left them for the horses again. Oh, he had so much to tell Pitch! He wished his friend were here to share this morning with him. Never had he felt so well, so happy! There were so many things he
wanted
to do today. For a few minutes more he watched Flame frolicking with his band, the tall stallion stopping occasionally to press hard against the yearling colts. Flame did this not in combat but in play. The colts seemed to understand and they pushed back and rose with him, but never too strenuously, for they did not want to antagonize their leader. The day would come when these colts would fight Flame in earnest, teeth for teeth, hoof for hoof, in their attempt to take the leadership from him. But at their present age they were willing to play.
    Steve turned away from them and went into the cave. He cooked a large breakfast of powdered eggs and milk and hot biscuits. While he ate he looked often at the gleaming