Free The Black Stallion by Walter Farley

move into the street. His eyes were still covered with the sweater.
    Taxicabs roared past, their horns blowing loudly. Trucks rattled toward the ship to pick up cargo. Men shouted in the streets. Cart peddlers clamored their wares. Noise, noise, noise—this was the Black’s introduction to New York.
    Alec’s hand was firm on the halter. Out of the small window in back of the driver he could see the buildings blazing with lights. New York seemed strange to him, too—he had forgotten. The stallion moved uneasily, his head jerked in an attempt to throw off thesweater. “Whoa, Boy,” said Alec. He patted the smooth, black coat. Down through the city streets they went.
    Alec’s father kept looking around, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off Alec and the stallion. Slowly the truck moved in and out of the traffic. An elevated train roared overhead. The stallion whistled and half-rose, almost hitting the top of the truck. Alec pulled him down.
    Gradually the traffic lessened. They moved farther out of the busienss section and turned toward Flushing. The worst was over now, and the Black was quiet. Alec was free to think of what fun it was going to be to ride him in that big field near the barn—if they would only let him keep him there.
    Then the van was going down the main street of Flushing. Alec peered out the window eagerly. It was good to see the familiar stores and buildings again. Two more blocks and they turend down a side street. Another ten minutes, and Alec saw his own house on the right. His father turned and smiled at him through the window. Alec smiled back.
    The truck rolled on past and down the street to the old Halleran house. The van turned into the driveway past a large sign that said TOURISTS . It came to a stop in front of the door.
    Alec’s father came around to the side of the van. “Okay, Alec,” he said, “it’s up to you now. Better go in and see whether Mrs. Dailey will let you keep him in the barn.”
    Alec let go of the Black’s halter. “Take it easy, Boy,” he said. Then he jumped off the van, went up theporch steps and rang the doorbell. The Daileys had moved into the old Halleran place shortly before Alec went to India, so he wasn’t very well acquainted with Mrs. Dailey, who now came to the door. She was a large, comfortable-looking, heavy-set woman.
    “Hello, Mrs. Dailey,” Alec said. “Remember me?”
    “Why, you’re the young lad from up the street, but they told me—” She paused in obvious amazement. “They told me that you had been drowned in a shipwreck.”
    “We were rescued,” Alex said. “Just got home tonight.”
    “Your mother and father must be awfully thankful,” she said. “You must have had an awful time!”
    “It was pretty bad, Mrs. Dailey—but what I wanted to see you about, Mrs. Dailey, was—well, I brought back a horse with me—we were rescued together.”
    “A horse!” she exclaimed.
    “Yes,” said Alec, “and Dad told me I could keep him if I found a place for him to stay. I’d like to put him in one of the stalls in your barn—I’ll pay you for it,” he added.
    “But the barn isn’t in very good shape, son,” said Mrs. Dailey. She smiled. “And we already have a boarder in the one good stall!”
    “A boarder?”
    “Yes, Tony, the huckster, keeps old Napoleon down there now.”
    “Napoleon? Do you mean the old gray horse he’s always had?” Alec asked.
    “Yes, that’s the one—seems to me he should die any day now, though, then you’ll be able to use his stall!”
    “But I don’t know of any other place I could keep my horse, Mrs. Dailey.” Alec was beginning to feel desperate. “Don’t you have another stall he could use?”
    “Well, I suppose the stall right next to Napoleon could be fixed up, but I haven’t the time or the money to have it done. If you want to keep your horse there, you’ll have to fix it yourself.”
    “Sure I will, Mrs. Dailey!” said Alec happily. “Could I keep him there