Free The Young Black Stallion by Walter Farley

one that had killed three men in their tribe alone. In return his people had killed leopards, to protect not only themselves but also their livestock—and, of course, for profit. Leopard skins brought good prices at the market.
    He took courage from the fact that the sun was directly overhead and the day was becoming increasingly hot. Leopards were nocturnal animals and did not like the sun. If one was still in the area, he would be sleeping, having fed heavily on the goat. But, Rashid cautioned himself, he was not sure the kill had been a recent one.
    Further on he picked up the tracks of the leopard again, not paw marks but a mound of gravel and dry brush that covered the excreta left by the leopard. From the pile he knew this leopard was a male and had to weigh well over two hundred pounds, an animal to be reckoned with if Rashid had to face him. Luckily, the scout still carried his long knife in his belt.
    The black colt was grazing just a short distance away. Rashid moved slowly around him, not wanting to disturb him. Only through the colt’s accepting his presence did he have any chance of catching him.
    Finally, the scout reached a higher level of ground where there was a small cavern. To either side of it was heavy growth, and he got down on his hands and knees to peer into the opening. He didn’t need to crawl inside to know that the tall grass and bushes outside provided ample shelter for the leopard’s lie-up for awaiting prey, if not his permanent lair. There was also the prevailing odor of a large wild animal within the cavern.
    Slowly he got to his feet and turned in the direction of the black colt. He had no fear for his own life. It was the injured colt who was the most vulnerable. Rashid decided to drive the black colt from the area.
    Walking down the slope he began humming, then talking, anything to alert Shêtân without frightening him, hoping he would move to another part of the ravine.
    Rashid changed his mind quickly as he neared the colt and saw the open mouth, the teeth bared as though the young horse was ready to tear him apart. Convinced that he was dealing with a devil, a hellion, he decided not to push the colt too far for the time being. Later in the day or early evening would be better. He must have patience. It would take time to be accepted by the colt. He turned and walked away quickly.
    Returning to his camp, he ate some dried rabbit meat and waited for dusk to come. The light of day vanished quickly in the ravine, but the stars shone brightly and a crescent moon illuminated the running stream. Rashid listened intently but heard nothing—no insect sounds, no night birds, no neigh of alarm from the colt, nothing at all. It was strange, eerie, and yet he waited expectantly. Finally he recognized the sound that he’d been waiting for—an almost imperceptible rustle, the faintest sound of dry, brittle weeds being trodden upon.
    Alarmed, he rose to his feet and moved into the darkness. The crucial moment had arrived, when he had to pit his wits and tracking skills against one of the most adept and dangerous of killers. He felt thecomfort of the knife in his belt, although it was not for his own life he feared, but that of the black colt, whose great value was going to make him a rich man.
    Rashid used his keen night vision to creep across the ravine in the direction of the sound he had heard. He was hunting a cunning animal on its own terms. He must be as cunning.
    Carefully he made his way around boulders and ventured onward, knowing only too well that the leopard might be hiding nearby, ready to attack. He knew that the leopard had little sense of smell, but its sight and hearing were among the best of all wild animals.
    The scout stopped and waited patiently until, finally, he heard the faint crackling, rustling of undergrowth beneath padded feet to his far right. He moved on again, as stealthily as the animal he stalked.
    His tracking took him back to the grassy slope leading to the