The Black Stallion Returns by Walter Farley Page B

in their saddles as their steeds moved effortlessly across the sand. Alec grasped Henry by the arm. “Those horses. Look at them, Henry!”
    Never in Alec’s life had he seen so magnificent a group of horseflesh. Blacks, bays, chestnuts galloped swiftly with heads held high and hot coats shining in the sun. They were very near now and Alec’s gaze swept to the chestnut in the lead. He was a stallion,much larger than the others, with flowing golden mane and tail and four white stockings.
    “What an animal,” Henry muttered.
    “He’s big, Henry,” Alec said softly, “as big as the Black!”
    The Bedouins had seen them, and their leader astride the chestnut signaled his band to stop. Then he and one of his men proceeded toward them. His stallion, rebelling against the bit that now held him to a walk, pranced with nervous ankles, eyes wide and staring, nostrils dilated and red. The white-robed figure on his back sat erect and still.
    He was tall and big-boned. His smooth face, except for the great black beard, was dark and unlined, his brown eyes gentle. Like Raj he, too, had high cheekbones. It was difficult to guess his age. He was a free young man, a man in the making. Long limbs, wrapped around the chestnut’s girth, made the stallion dance as he stood there. A slight smile played upon the chieftain’s hard-set mouth as he viewed the group. Then he spoke in Arabic, and his voice was soft.
    When he had finished, Raj answered. Then they conversed, their words precise but soft-spoken. How alike they were, Alec thought. The same high forehead and cheekbones, the same brown, liquid-soft eyes and set mouth. They talked for some time. Alec heard Raj mention the name of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, and saw a heavy scowl fall over the face of the young chieftain. In an instant it was gone.
    Finishing, Raj turned to his friends. “I have told him our story,” he said, “and he will take us into the mountains.”
    “To Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak’s?” Alec asked excitedly. “I heard you mention his name.”
    “La
 … no,” replied Raj. “He refuses to take us all the way, but has consented to leave us near enough to the kingdom of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak for us to reach it alone.”
    Henry grinned. “Say, that’s good of him,” he bellowed. “I knew they were regular guys when I saw ’em!”
    “Think we can trust them?” Mr. Volence asked skeptically.
    Raj shrugged his large shoulders. “This is the land of the nomad, sir, where one cannot be certain of anything.”
    The hoofs of the stallion clattered on the stones as he danced nervously in the sun, his coat shining like bright gold. The Bedouin on his back was eager to be off. He spoke to Raj again and there was a terseness in his speech that had not been there before.
    Raj turned to his friends. “He will not wait any longer,” he said. “If we are going with him, we must go now.”
    They followed the chieftain and his aide back to the group of horsemen, who looked at them curiously. Assigned to ride with four of the men, they mounted quickly and were off.
    Alec found himself on the back of a dappled gray which, in spite of his double burden, kept up with the others. The Bedouin with whom Alec shared his saddle looked back and grinned.
    Soon the desert was behind them and out of sight. The Bedouins slowed their horses down to a trot asthey picked their way through narrow gorges. To the east, the direction in which they were headed, the mountains rose higher and higher against the sky.
    Hour after hour passed without a stop. They followed no path, but it was obvious to Alec that each horseman had traveled this route many times. Ever upward they went, slowing down to a walk to spare their steeds when the ascent became too abrupt.
    Sometime in the afternoon they came to a wide plateau, where they stopped to rest. While the Bedouins were attending their horses, Alec made his way in the direction of the chestnut stallion. If ever there was a horse whose physical