The Black Stallion (21 page)

“He didn’t exactly fall, Henry. He jumped for an already filled lifeboat and missed … he didn’t have a life jacket and there was such a sea that I couldn’t see him after that. A few minutes later the
Drake
cracked up and I was in the water, too. I saw the Black and the rope on his halter and grabbed it. The next thing I knew I was on the island. You know the rest.…”

“And after they found you … and during your trip home … you heard nothin’ to indicate that the Black’s owner was alive?”

“No, Henry … nothing. One lifeboat containing ten people was found, that’s all, and he wasn’t among
them. I’m sure he couldn’t have lived in that heavy sea. Another thing, Henry, I don’t think for a moment that he was the owner of the Black.”

“Y’mean you think he had stolen him?”

“Yes. For one thing, he acted as though he had … always kept to himself. Then he was too cruel to the Black. If he owned him, he wouldn’t have done the things that he did.”

“Can’t tell, Alec. I’ve seen some purty hard horse owners in my time. Still, maybe you’re right … he’s a lot of horse and even without seein’ him run some people would pay a mighty handsome price for him.”

As Henry walked across the room, his foot struck a small metallic object. He stooped and picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Looks like a gold neck chain … but what’s that disc in the center, Henry?”

Henry walked over underneath the light and took a closer look at the disc. “Seems to be a bird of some kind,” he muttered. He handed the chain to Alec. “Make it out?” he asked.

A large bird carved in white ivory was embossed upon a gold disc which hung from the chain. Its long, powerful wings were outstretched in flight. Alec noticed the beak, hooked at the point, and long claws on short, strong legs. Two tiny red stones had been used for eyes. “I’m sure it’s a falcon, Henry. My Uncle Ralph had a couple when I was in India and I’ve seen others … although never any white ones like this. They’re usually a dusky color.”

Henry was silent for a few minutes. He took the
chain from Alec and rolled it in his hands. “Cinch that this wasn’t made in the States, Alec,” he said.

“Guess not … the work is too fine. Henry, this may mean …”

“… that I may be right. That the guy on the ship is still alive and wants to kill the Black for some reason.”

“Or, Henry, that someone else from Arabia or somewhere in the Middle East wants to kill him.”

“Yeah.” Henry walked over to the Black and placed a hand on the flaring nose.

The sun had risen well above the trees at the east end of the field when Alec left the barn and headed for the gate and home. His feet dragged along the graveled driveway. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but Henry had talked him into it, knowing that this was the week before final exams. Exams! School! What did they matter now! Someone had attempted to kill the Black, his horse. And whoever it was might return to try again.

Henry had assured him that he would guard the stallion until Alec returned later in the day. The police would be notified, for he would stop in at the station on his way to school. Alec was sure his father would see to it that a policeman stayed near the barn at night, and Alec had every intention of sleeping in the barn with the Black. They’d change the locks on the iron gate and barn door. Summer vacation would follow next week’s exams; then he’d spend the next three months, night and day, with his horse.

He reached the high iron gate. The lock wasn’t broken and Alec doubted that anyone had scaled the
fence with all that barbed wire running around the top. Obviously, the intruder had had a key or picked the lock. Still, perhaps Tony had left it open when he and old Napoleon, his gray, sway-backed horse, who shared the barn with the Black, had gone to the market to load the wagon with vegetables for the day’s business. There was a good chance, too, that the prowler, knowing what time Tony left each morning, had slipped inside after Tony had driven Napoleon through the gate without his being aware of it. He’d have to speak to Tony tonight.

Alec closed the gate behind him, locked it, and headed for the large brown house across the street. He walked slowly in spite of the fact that he knew it was getting late and he’d have to hurry if he was going to stop in at the police station and still make his first class.

Someone cruel and vicious wanted to put an end to the Black. Why? What motive could he possibly have? True, Alec knew little of the stallion’s past. Perhaps, as Henry had suggested, the answer lay there … somewhere in Arabia.