Free The Black Stallion Mystery by Walter Farley Page B

world was speeding by and he felt tiny beneath the immensity of it all.… Where were they and where would this end? Would they find anyone at all? He listened to the wind mingled with the swift rush of a nearby stream.
    Then Alec went to his horse and staked him closer to the fire. The Black bumped his head against him and Alec put a hand around the horse’s neck, finding comfort and warmth in his nearness. Henry still stood by the fire, his eyes closed. An owl hooted in the distance, its call wavering with the wind. Henry opened his eyes,looked around, and then without a word sat down, resting his head on upraised knees. Alec rebuilt the fire and sat down beside his friend. He, too, closed his eyes but his ears were alert to every sound.
    Beyond the dim canyons and ravines came the howling of wolves. Occasionally Alec opened his eyes to check the fire and look at the snow-capped mountaintops that rimmed the plateau. Tomorrow they would reach the great tableland which rested at the foot of the highest peak of all. He shivered with cold despite the fire. He had no doubt that before long the ground would be white and shimmering with frost. He pulled his light sweater about him, rubbing his arms and moving as close as possible to the fire. If they kept the fire going, they’d be all right. He hated to think what it would be like without it. He closed his eyes again, and even though the heat scorched his eyebrows it felt very good.
    The empty saddlebag lay beside Alec. The Black moved into the circle of firelight, pulling mouthfuls of dry brittle grass from the ground with each step. The wind swept across the silence of the night, ruffling the horse’s mane and tail; it bent the flames and sent sparks flying into the cold night.
    Alec had no intention of going to sleep but his weariness was deep and overwhelming. It left no room for concern or thoughtfulness, only dreams.
    He dreamed of home and his mares and colts and barns. He smelled the scents he loved, the well-oiled leather and saddle soap, the hay and grain. He heard the broodmares rustling their straw bedding and the soft nickering of foals. For him there was no place in the world like Hopeful Farm.
    When Alec awakened the fire was almost out and the ground was white with frost. It was very calm and cold with no rolling clouds to blanket the moon and star-studded sky. He turned quickly to his horse, standing very still and black on the white ground. Then he rose and went to him, even though he knew that his first duty was to rebuild the fire.
    Alec did not touch the Black but stood beside him and listened. The rush of the stream was strangely loud in the silence. From far off a boom of thunder rolled, or it might have been a rock slide. There was a rasp of wings high in the air. From beyond the dim ravines came the howl of wolves. It was none of these sounds that had awakened him, that had sent him so quickly to his horse. He stared into the night, shaking as he stared. Nothing stirred, not even the smoke of the dying fire.
    From the night came the long agonized wailing of an animal, one terribly hurt or afraid. It continued for a long while but neither Alec nor the Black moved. Their eyes searched the night together.
    Alec felt the gaze of someone, something, upon them. He sought to keep his head, telling himself that it was only the night and the cold and the strange mountains that made him feel as he did. But he had only to look at the Black to know how wrong he was. His horse, too, was frightened. Despite the cold, beads of perspiration appeared on Alec’s brow. A nameless terror grew within him as he became more and more certain that hidden eyes were prying upon him and his horse.
    “Hello!” he shouted into the night. “Hello! Will you help us? Hello!”
    A gust of wind raced across the land and it wasstrangely warm. It kindled the fire, sending a single glowing flame into the darkness, and then whipped away, leaving the night deathly still again. Henry slept