Black Stallion and Satan by Walter Farley Read Free Book Online Page B

too, inquisitively watching him. He waited for a short time with only his eyes moving; then he was off again, charging back and forth before the gray. Napoleon went on with his grazing, seemingly unmindful of the Black’s furious action. But when the stallion lowered himself to the ground and rolled over on his back, Napoleon raised his head to watch; then he, too, carefully got down and pushed his back into the soft earth.
    “Nappy no fear him,” Tony said proudly as they watched the thrashing legs.
    “No reason why he should,” Alec returned. “The Black is his best friend and he knows it.” Pausing, the boy added, “If you want to go home, Tony, I’ll bring in Napoleon when it gets dark.”
    “Okay, Aleec,” Tony said, moving away from the fence. “I think I go then. It’s-a been one hard day.”
    Long after Tony had gone, Alec remained beside the fence, watching his horse. Until today he had felt confident that no horse in the world could match the Black’s speed. But Satan’s new world record for the mile and a quarter had changed things. Now he wasn’t sure. And he knew he wanted to be sure before he took the Black to the farm.
    There was an easy way to find out, and Alec decided to try it … the next morning, at dawn, in the park.
    Alec had his clock beneath his pillow, so when the alarm went off at four o’clock the following morning he alone heard its muffled ring. Hurriedly he reached forit and silenced the alarm. He lay there for a moment, listening to the incessant chant of the katydids in the field. But there was no sound of rain, and only this could have postponed his plans. Silently he got out of bed and pulled on his jeans and sweat shirt. He sat down to put on his socks and boots, all the while listening to the snoring of his parents, who slept in the next room. When he rose from the chair, he went quickly across the darkened room to the desk near the window; there he found his baseball cap and pulled it snugly about his head. Opening the top drawer of the desk, he removed a silver-cased stopwatch and wound it before carefully placing it in his pocket.
    One minute fifty-eight seconds for the mile and a quarter
. The Black was going out to beat Satan’s record!
    With the watch ticking inside his pocket, Alec went down the stairs. He moved slowly, quietly, for he didn’t want anyone to know what he was about to do. It would take only a short while. There would be no traffic on the back streets at this hour, and the park would be empty. He knew exactly where he would go. The stretch of bridle path from the seventh tee of the park’s golf course to the towering elm tree opposite the ninth hole green was just a mile and a quarter. He and Henry had measured it accurately over a year ago, when they had jogged Satan there prior to his going to the track. But this morning the Black wouldn’t be jogging. He’d be going all out, running his very fastest! It would be over and done with in a very short time. They’d be back at the barn even before Tony and Napoleon left for the market.
    Leaving the house, Alec ran across the street to theiron gate. He opened it wide and didn’t shut it behind him. Reaching the barn, he went inside without turning on the lights. The Black whinnied and Alec went to him, stroking the small head for a few minutes before going on to the tack room. He returned, carrying the light racing saddle and bridle.
    Alec worked quickly in the darkness. The Black moved uneasily when the saddle pad, followed by the saddle, was put on his back. But he quieted at the touch of Alec’s hands and the sound of the boy’s voice. “You’re going light right now,” Alec said. “No feed until later.”
    After Alec had the bridle on him, he led the Black from the barn. The stallion’s nostrils dilated and he snorted repeatedly as he moved beside Alec. The boy took him to the bench in front of the barn and mounted from there.
    His knees pressed hard against the muscled withers, Alec