Son of the Black Stallion by Walter Farley

the colt until Henry arrived. But would Tony do it? Alec realized how terribly afraid Tony was of Satan.
    Knowing that the huckster would be returning soon from his rounds, Alec picked up his hammer and tool box and made his way from the hollow, Sebastian barking at his heels.
    He was still a good distance away from the barn when he saw Napoleon turn into the driveway. Tony was sitting on top of the wagon, holding the long reins.Alec whistled, and Napoleon raised his large gray head and whinnied.
    Tony had Napoleon unharnessed and was leading him toward the barn door when Alec reached them.
    “I’ma glad you are here, Aleec,” Tony said with great relief. “I no like to go in alone with
heem
there.”
    “He’s in his stall, Tony,” Alec reminded him.
    “
Sì
, I know,” Tony replied, shaking his head. “But he mak’a such a fuss. He no like Napoleon or Tony. We just walka by and he shows da teeth. An’ beeg ones he has, Aleec, for such a leetle fella. Heesa no good, Aleec.” Then as he saw Alec’s gaze fall, he added quickly in a more patronizing tone, “But he will be, Aleec. Heesa not used to Nappy and Tony yet, but soon everything will be what you call hunkey dokey.”
    Tony’s gaze followed Sebastian as the dog elusively ran between Napoleon’s legs. “
Sì!
Looka da Sebastian. Already he forget to be afraid.”
    “I’d like him to be a little more careful, though,” Alec said. “I have to tie him up whenever I take Satan out or he’d be under the colt’s legs again. Here, Seb,” he called, grabbing the puppy. “I’d better take care of you now.”
    Alec clipped the leash to the dog’s collar, and then tied him to a hook on the side of the barn.
    “You take da colt out now?” Tony asked, when Alec returned. And when the boy nodded, Tony said, “We go in first then, heh, Napoleon.”
    As they entered the barn, Satan raised his small head over the stall door, uttered a short, piercing whistle, then withdrew inside the stall and was still.
    Tony heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ma glad he no want to see us,” he said. “When he keepsa looking at me it makes me feela funny inside.”
    Alec didn’t reply. He watched Tony as the huckster carried Napoleon’s harness down to the tack room, his pace quickening as he passed Satan’s stall. As things stood now, Alec decided, he couldn’t see Tony taking care of the colt for even a few days, much less two months, if Henry didn’t get back. Somehow he’d have to figure out another way—even if it meant talking to his father again about the whole business.
    Returning from the tack room, Tony asked, “You heard from Henree?”
    “No, but he’ll be here any day now,” Alec said with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel.
    Tony had Napoleon halfway into his stall when he stopped, looked quizzically at Alec, and asked, “But if Henree no come before you leave tomorrow, what you do with the colt?”
    Shrugging his shoulders, Alec replied, “I really don’t know, Tony. I’ll have to figure out something.” Pausing, he added, “Henry should be here. It’s ten days since he left and he said he’d be back by now.”
    “
Dio mio,
” said Tony to himself, as he finished leading Napoleon into his stall. “It’sa best for all of us that he come.”
    As Tony emerged from the stall, Alec saw the afternoon paper in the pocket of his denim coveralls. “Mind if I look at your paper, Tony?” he asked.
    Tony removed the newspaper and handed it to Alec; then he trudged off toward the tack room again.
    Turning the pages quickly, Alec found the sportssection. Jim Neville’s column was usually filled with authentic race track information, and he had been reading it eagerly for the past week, hoping to find something about Henry and Boldt.
    Buried in the middle of the column, Henry’s name leapt at Alec from the black type. Excitedly he read: “… Henry Dailey is back at the Mother Lode Ranch after a fast trip east. His boss, Peter Boldt, claims that