The Island Stallion's Fury by Walter Farley Page A

colt when he wakes up.”
    â€œI hadn’t even thought of it, Pitch. Why, I don’t have …”
    â€œYes, we do,” the man said. “Go below to the galley and you’ll find everything you need. The powdered milk is in the tin container marked ‘Tea.’ There’s not much but it’s enough for a couple of feedings until we get to Antago.”
    Pitch waited until the boy had disappeared down the short steps to the galley, then his face sobered and concern was evident in his eyes. He wasn’t worried about the colt. He sincerely believed all he’d told Steve. It was his stepbrother Tom who was worrying him. If Tom had returned to Antago, if he by any wild chance saw the colt, all the strange things that had been happening during the last six months might be brought to a head. And it wouldn’t be a happy affair. He had avoided telling Steve very much about Tom whenever the boy had asked. But now … now it would be best if Steve were told. They had to be ready for anything Tom might do if he did see them and the colt.
    Later, Steve reappeared. “I found everything,” he said. “I’m waiting for the water to cool.” He turned to the foal, saw he was still sleeping, then asked, “Want me to take the wheel for a while, Pitch?”
    â€œNo, Steve … thanks.” Pitch kept his eyes on the sea ahead. “Steve?”
    â€œYes, Pitch?”
    â€œYou’ve asked me about Tom several times since your return.”
    â€œYes? What about him, Pitch?”
    â€œI’d felt it best all along not to discuss Tom with you,” Pitch said. “We were safe from him in Blue Valley. But now that you and the colt are going to Antago …” He stopped as though to collect his thoughts, then plunged into what he had to say.
    â€œTom’s been acting very strange the last five or six months. He’s always been a domineering person, as you know. But it’s more than that now. With no just cause, he’s been cruel, even vicious at times, to the native helpwe’ve had at the plantation. Finally it reached the point where no one living on Antago would work for him. He lost our last cane crop. But even this didn’t seem to bother him. I made it a point to keep out of his way. That wasn’t very difficult for me to do, especially since he started making trips to the islands south of Antago and once even went to South America.
    â€œWhile he was gone, I was able to get the natives back to work. But when Tom returned they’d leave again the moment they saw him. A week before you arrived, Tom left Antago once more, this time telling me he’d be in South America for a year.”
    When Pitch had finished, Steve studied his face a long while before asking, “Do you think he really went to South America, Pitch?”
    â€œI don’t know, Steve. He’d been restless and wanted excitement which he couldn’t get on Antago. He’d lived there for years, longer than he’d ever settled down in any one place before. He could have gone to South America again but …” Pitch stopped.
    â€œBut what, Pitch? What makes you think he didn’t?”
    â€œThe morning of the day you arrived a friend of mine told me he thought he’d seen the
Sea Queen
in the waters to the north.”
    Steve’s gaze never left Pitch as they stood at the bow in silence.
Sea Queen
was the name of Tom’s motor launch. If Tom had been going to South America he would have traveled west … to one of the western islands, where he could get a plane for South America.
    â€œYou think then,” Steve said, “that he’d been to Azul Island? Does he have any idea what we’ve found there?”
    â€œI don’t honestly know, Steve. He may be curious about my trips to the spit to do a little excavation work. He knows of my interest in the island. But he didn’t seem to