The Black Stallion's Ghost Read Online Free Page B

used as a base by hunters.
    He would go in that direction rather than to the Indian village. The road had been built high, creating a dike that held surface water within the area. The saw-grass spears were tall and green beyond, and he would have a chance to see part of the true swamp before draglines and bulldozers destroyed it.
    Alec kept the Black at a slow canter, knowing he could go to the distant hammock and back without ever tiring his horse. The stallion’s ears were alert; he would miss nothing and appeared as eager as Alec to go on.
    For several miles he rode in a silence that seemed to become part of his bloodstream. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on his bare head and he felt as if he were crossing a desert and looking forward to reaching an oasis in the distant hammock. A dusty brown snake crossed the road just ahead and disappeared into the saw grass. It might be a water moccasin, he thought, and cautioned himself that he must not let the heat and silence dull his senses.
    For a long while he rode on until, finally, he approached the hammock. It was even larger than he’d thought and the trees created a towering wall of cypress before him, making it difficult to tell where land left off and the dark water of the swamp began. The water rose high around the cypress knees, and the hammock appeared all the more ghostly with Spanish moss hanging from the trees in heavy shrouds. There was a graveyard hush to the stillness, and for the first time, Alec thought seriously of turning back.
    The road seemed to ring the hammock and he saw a colorful array of air plants and orchids within the green gloom. Despite the ominous hush, the naturalbeauty of the hammock attracted him. He decided to go a little farther.
    The road finally turned onto the hammock, disappearing into a stand of tall yuccas. Alec followed it, glad to leave the merciless glare of the sun behind, if only for a short while.
    The road narrowed to barely more than a white shell path curling around the western end of the hammock. It skirted the silent stand of cypress trees and the dark water in which they grew, then turned away from the moist bank to wind its way through the hammock.
    He never had seen a more beautiful natural park, made all the more impressive by the saw-grass wasteland behind him. It was indeed a startling contrast, and his eyes swept to the magnificent stands of coconut palms and live oaks, the beautiful magnolias and oleanders.
    He heard the first sound of life in the dense foliage, a slight whirring noise. The Black heard it too; his ears were pitched in the direction of a patch of wild grapevine. A moment later Alec saw a hummingbird foraging among the vines, its wings shirring like a helicopter propeller as it hovered about a flower.
    He continued riding down the shell path, his imagination beginning to run wild. Where did the path lead and what would he find? He knew he would be warned of any danger by the Black’s animal instinct. As it was, his horse was moving easily, almost as if he too wanted to find out where the path led.
    Through a screen of moss-laden oak trees they emerged into a small clearing. It had been hacked from the jungle growth, probably by Indians many yearsago, and kept clear by the occasional hunter who used the hammock.
    There was a rough hollow in the center of the clearing, and the Black moved toward it of his own accord. He lowered his head, his nostrils sniffing the ground. When he straightened, he gave vent to a clear, happy neigh of desire!
    Shocked by the Black’s soft call, Alec slipped off his back and studied the impressions in the dirt. What he found brought him quickly back to time and place. A horse had rolled in the hollow not long before, and judging from the Black’s neigh, it had been a mare!
    The shell path led into the jungle on the opposite side of the clearing, and Alec knew he had to follow it. He could not turn back without knowing why another horse and rider were