The Island Stallion's Fury by Walter Farley

him as you would.”
    â€œI want to take him with us,” Steve said.
    Pitch looked at him. “All right, Steve. I just thought it might be best for him under the circumstances.”
    Dr. Mason smiled. “Under the circumstances it’s best that he go with you. Setting a bone is a simple matter compared to playing mother to a foal.” Sympathetically he placed his hand on Steve’s arm. “I want you to get a bottle of lime water at the drug store. Put four tablespoonfuls of it in every pint of milk you give him. He needs more calcium for a few weeks.”
    A little later they were back in the car, driving to town. The foal stood on the floor before the back seat, his head stretched toward the closed window. Steve sat on the seat, holding him steady, watching him, while Pitch drove slowly.
    They were nearing the center of town when Pitch said, glancing into his rear-view mirror, “I keep thinking I see Tom’s car.”
    Steve looked out the back window. “What kind of a car does he drive?”
    â€œHe’s got a Ford, a maroon two-door sedan.”
    â€œThere’s nothing like that behind us.”
    â€œI know there isn’t now,” Pitch said, pulling up in front of Antago’s largest drug store. “Just my nerves, I guess. I’m going to get the powdered milk and the nipples.”
    â€œAnd lime water,” the boy reminded him.
    While Steve waited he watched for a maroon Ford sedan. But he saw none and figured that Pitch had been mistaken in thinking he had seen Tom. Within a few minutes they’d be on their way back to Blue Valley where Tom never would find them.
    Pitch returned, carrying a box containing the powdered milk, nursing bottles, nipples and several large bottles of lime water. When he had them in the car, Steve said, “The harness shop is just up the street. I want to get a web halter and a brush.”
    â€œMake it snappy, Steve,” Pitch said, getting in the back of the car to hold the colt.
    Steve was gone only a few minutes and when he returned with his packages, Pitch moved up front again behind the wheel.
    â€œI don’t suppose you’d consider boarding the colt somewhere on Antago,” he said before starting the motor. “It might be wiser than taking him back … for his good, I mean.”
    Steve rubbed the foal’s muzzle. “But where, Pitch? Do you know anyone we could trust, anyone who would take good care of him?”
    â€œFrankly I don’t, Steve. But we might be able to find someone.”
    â€œI wouldn’t trust just anyone with him,” Steve said thoughtfully. “If you knew of a good home for him it would be different. But I just won’t take a chance. He’ll be safe with us. We know that. No harm can come to him where we’re going.”
    â€œI suppose you’re right, Steve,” Pitch said, starting the motor. “But he’s going to keep you busy. You won’t have much time for anything else.”
    They drove to the wharf. The freighter had finished unloading, but the activity on the wharf had not lessened for now Antago’s exports, rum and molasses, were being taken to the waiting ship. Slowly Pitch steered the car through groups of perspiring stevedores, honkinghis horn constantly to avoid hitting anyone. They passed the long row of parked cars and trucks on their left without looking at them. They went to the far end of the wharf where they could park easily and leave the car until Pitch’s next trip to Antago.
    The foal hardly moved in their arms as they carried him from the car to the waiting motor launch.
    Pitch said, “He’s getting so used to being carried by us that the next thing we know he won’t want to walk!”
    Steve laughed, all his worry and tension gone. “I don’t think so, Pitch. Someday he’ll be as big and strong as Flame, then he’ll be carrying us.”
    There was no longer any