Walter pointed to a pyramid-shaped rock far above their heads.
At first they could scarcely believe their senses. There poised in the air, feet doubled into a bunch, stood a splendid specimen of horse-flesh, resting, it seemed, fairly on the sharp point of the rock, gazing down into and across the valley.
"The white stallion," breathed the lads all in the same breath.
The magnificent animal was a creamy white. Its head was held high, nostrils distended as if to catch the scent of those for whom it was looking. Beneath the rays of the low lying sun, its coat glistened and shone with a luster that no brush or comb could bring to it.
The lads gazed upon the beautiful statue almost in awe.
They were standing quite close up under the shadow of the mountain at that moment.
"Why doesn't he run?" whispered Walter.
"Do you think he sees us?" asked Ned.
"No. Stand perfectly still."
"Why doesn't he? All he would have to do would be to look down?" questioned Stacy.