The Black Stallion Revolts

by Walter Farley

  “Act nicely now,” he said softly. “Easy now, girl.”

  Black Minx’s heavy mane was tossed back against Alec’s head. He felt her mouth working on the bit. She was feeling him out just as he was doing with her. She turned her ears at the sound of his voice. Quickly, jerkily, she moved them back and forth. He believed she was trying to decide just how far she could go with him. Suddenly she tried to find out. She swerved abruptly, seeking to unseat him. But he moved with her, his knees and hands firm. Finally he straightened her out again.

  “You can’t get away with it,” he told her softly.

  The filly grabbed the bit and bolted. Alec’s hands gave in to her, but only for a second. Then they moved quickly and he had the bit loose from between her clenched teeth. He brought her down to the jog Henry had ordered.

  “I told you not to try it.” He patted her neck.

  She extended her head, wanting more rein. She stayed quiet, so he gave in a little. Again he felt her teeth champing on the bit, still feeling him out, not yet ready to admit that he was able to outguess her. He was ready when she swerved once more. His hands and knees tightened as he went with her, then straightened her out again.

  For the remaining distance to the track the filly gave him no trouble. Alec rubbed her neck fondly. She knew just how far she could go with him. Perhaps she’d be a good little girl from now on.

  He jogged her halfway up the track, then turned, awaiting Henry’s signal to gallop. He was to take her a mile and a quarter, two and a half times around their half-mile training track. He turned to the field beyond but couldn’t see the Black. The stallion was down in the ravine. Henry waved his hand, and Alec gave the filly some rein.

  She moved quickly into her gallop, and the smoothness of her gait caused Alec to think again of how like her sire she was. He pressed his head close to her neck. “Come on, you little Black,” he said excitedly. “Come on!”

  Like her great sire, she kept her head high and her ears pricked forward while she galloped. Alec felt the flowing power, controlled now, but promising a world of speed when he asked for it.

  They passed Henry, and Alec wanted to shout to him that here was a fine filly. Here was one with extreme speed, a filly worthy of her great heritage. But he controlled his enthusiasm. He would give her more rein. Let Henry see a little of it for himself.

  His hands moved forward as he took her into the first turn. “Now, Minx,” he said. “I’ll let you go a little more.” He began clucking in her ear.

  She moved close to the rail, her strides never faltering. But neither did they pick up any speed. A shadow of concern passed over Alec’s face. They came off the turn and entered the backstretch. She may have been a little afraid of the turn, Alec decided. He gave her more rein, clucking to her again. “Now, girl! Let’s pick them up.”

  Her strides neither lengthened nor came faster. Still moving smoothly, she made no effort to increase her gallop in spite of the slack rein, the clucking in her ear. Alec slid closer to her neck, talking to her, urging her on. But her only response was the constant flicking of her small ears, forward and back. All through the backstretch, around the turn and down the homestretch she continued her slow, easy gallop.

  Henry shouted, when they passed, “That’s good, Alec, but move her up a little on the next round!”

  Move her up a little! Alec grimaced at Henry’s instructions. He sat quietly in the saddle, feeling miserable for Henry, for himself. He couldn’t get an ounce more speed out of this filly. She knew what she was doing, and what he wanted from her. But she just wouldn’t run for him! Perhaps a whip would bring the speed out of her. But forcing a horse to race with a stick wasn’t for him or Henry or Hopeful Farm.

  Alec took the filly into the first turn again, sick with disappointment in this first daughter of the Black.

  Sires are only half, he reminded himself.

  But this filly is out of a good mare. And she has the Black’s looks and temperament. She has the Black’s speed! He could feel it in her every movement. Yet she wouldn’t use it, and neither he nor Henry would ever beat it out of her with a whip.

  The reins were slack against her neck. He kept talking to her, urging her, as they once more entered the backstretch. But she did not respond. Suddenly Alec heard the Black’s shrill whistle. The filly bolted, her strides finally coming faster.

  Alec caught a glimpse of the stallion moving over the hilltop in his field. Then the Black was plunging toward the high, wooden-barred fence which ran parallel with the track for the length of the backstretch.

  His sudden appearance had frightened the filly, for she galloped hard. She bore down upon the back turn. She ran low, her strides coming long and fast. Alec pressed his head hard against her neck and let her go.

  Coming off the turn, she slowed as suddenly as her terrified flight had begun. She settled back into her easy gallop, turning her head to look across the track’s infield where the Black raced up and down the fence.

  Alec took her past Henry again, then into the turn for the last quarter of a mile which had been ordered. As they neared the Black, she watched him but she was no longer frightened. She didn’t break stride even when the stallion settled down to run along the pasture fence beside her.

  Finishing the full distance, Alec drew back on the reins. She fought him furiously, but he got her down to a jog. “You’re a contrary filly,” he said bitterly. “I don’t know what Henry’s going to do with you.”

  When he took her the rest of the way around the track, he was afraid to look at Henry. He was certain that his eyes would tell the story of his disappointment in the filly.

  Taking Black Minx’s bridle, Henry said severely, “I didn’t tell you to breeze her, Alec. You took her too fast that one furlong. She’s not ready for it.” Then he added more softly, “But I guess it didn’t hurt her any.”

  “She made that fast move only because the Black frightened her,” Alec said. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. She loafed all the rest of the time. I couldn’t even make her gallop faster as you wanted me to do.”

  For a moment Henry’s face sobered, then lightened. “She’s got the speed in her. I’ll find a way to get it out when we’re ready for her breezes and fast works.” He raised a hand to stroke Black Minx’s head. When she tried to nip him he had no alternative but to slap her on the muzzle. “I guess I got a Derby horse, all right, Alec. I guess I have.”

  Alec sat back in the saddle. At the moment he didn’t think Black Minx ever would be ready to race, much less start in the Kentucky Derby. But all that was best unsaid.

  DON’T FORGET THE STORY

  THAT BEGAN IT ALL …

  Alec Ramsay first saw the Black Stallion when his ship docked at a small Arabian port on the Red Sea. Little did he dream then that the magnificent wild horse was destined to play an important part in his young life; that the strange understanding that grew between them would lead through untold dangers to high adventure in America.

  THE SECOND GREAT ADVENTURE

  ABOUT ALEC AND THE BLACK

  What was the motive of the night prowler in attempting to destroy the Black, one of the world’s most famous horses? The prowler left behind him a gold medallion on which was embossed the figure of a large white bird, its wings outstretched in flight. Was it the Phoenix, that fabulous bird of mythology that symbolizes the resurrection of the dead?

  ANOTHER EXCITING ADVENTURE TALE

  OF THE BLACK STALLION

  One morning, during their vacation in the Florida Everglades, Alec rides the Black down a path into a beautiful but mysterious swamp. Alec encounters a strange rider on a ghostly gray mare. Too late, Alec realizes that the man’s obsession with a supernatural curse has driven him mad—and he’s not only insane, he’s dangerous. Suddenly, what started as an innocent outing turns into a living nightmare!

  THE STORY OF THE BLACK

  BEFORE HE MET ALEC

  Born in the mountain stronghold of an Arabian sheikh, the Black Stall
ion is a horse like no other. Big, beautiful, and savage, this magnificent creature is destined for greatness. But the Black’s bright future is eclipsed when a fierce band of raiders attempts to kidnap him—and he escapes into the wilderness, hunted by man and beast.

  MEET WALTER FARLEY’S OTHER

  MAGNIFICENT STALLION.…

  Steve Duncan had a haunting vision of finding a magnificent red stallion … and finally discovered him in a hidden island paradise. But the giant horse was wild and unapproachable. Then Steve saved Flame from a horrible death, and a miraculous friendship began—changing both their lives forever.