Son of the Black Stallion

Son of the Black Stallion

Walter Farley

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0679813454

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

When Alec receives the Black Stallion’s first son as a gift, he believes his dreams have come true, but Satan’s savage arrogance makes him dangerous and unpredictable. Still, Alec is resolved to gain the fiery colt’s trust, even if he must risk his life to do it.

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the porch door open when he heard his mother say, “Just a minute, he may be coming now. I’ll let you talk with him, Henry.” Henry! Alec was running when he entered the hall foyer. Excitedly he questioned his mother. “Where is he, Mom? He isn’t in California, is he?” Then as his mother handed him the telephone, he heard Henry’s voice. “Naw. Naw, Alec. I’m right here … at the airport. Just thought I’d call an’ tell you I’d arrived, an’ everything was okay.” Alec heard Henry’s deep chuckle as the

became alive again, and with a cry he ran forward. What had possessed him to accept Henry’s word that Satan was dead? Why had he stood there doing nothing when, perhaps, his horse was still alive! His strides shortened as he approached the fence. Then with a leap, his right foot hit the fence above Sebastian’s head and his hands found the top rail. For a second his wet sneakers slipped on the wood, then they held, and Alec pulled himself up. When he reached the top, he straddled the fence, and

reins; but as Alec called to his horse, he gradually slowed down to an easy gallop. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Alec turned him back up the field. It had been a short run, but Satan had speed to burn. There was no doubt about that. Henry, his face thoughtful, watched them come back up the field. Satan’s action had been beautiful to see, and it looked as though he had speed in spite of his burly size. He had slowed up, too, at Alec’s command, which was mighty important with a wild runner like

from the bench and placed it under the cellar light to make sure nothing was stuck between the wicker staves. She looked at it for a long time, as though unwilling to call an end to the search which she had started. The clock in the hall was striking six. An hour had passed since her search had begun, and time was growing short. Reluctantly she placed the basket back upon the bench. And as her hand left the edge, she felt something softer than wood beneath her fingers. Quickly she turned the

on the long straightaway before them. “Come out fast, boy … no swerving … no giving ground today,” he whispered. Satan’s ears lay back, then pricked forward; he rolled his blazing eyes in the Comet’s direction, then looked at the track ahead. From the corner of his eye, Alec could see the jockey on the rangy roan to his left. On the pole position was Lenny Sansone, up on the Chief. Lenny’s face was set, his stick in hand. All the jockeys were ready with their whips. Alec hoped and prayed that

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