The Grandson of Abdallah raised his head and went to the stable door, his mouth half full of grass. Some of the grass must have tickled his nose, for he snorted twice in quick succession.
“Do I remember it, Son of Ben Ali? How could I forget it? It was a little while before the big race at Lexington. That was the night I learned how to put my nose at a horse’s flank and run the breath out of him.”
“The children of the White-haired Master would like to hear of that,” said Aaron.
“It was at night,” remarked the Black Stallion, threshing at a perverse fly with his tail. “What time, I know not, but I had been dozing, and just before that I had heard the chickens crow. There was no moon. The big white star was glittering where the sun rises, and there was frost in the air. Suddenly I heard some one tugging at my stable door and the voice of the Son of Ben Ali calling.
“The door was barred, but he broke the bar. The stable was dark, but he found the bridle, blanket, and saddle. He cried:—
“‘Steady, Son of Abdallah! There is work for us this night!’
“I bit at him in play, and took a piece of his coat off, but he made no pause until saddle and bridle were on. Then he ran through the door, crying ‘Come, Son of Abdallah! Come! There is work for us to-night! Steady! You will have play enough before the night is over.’
“I liked nothing better than that, so I sprang through the door, and went galloping after the Son of Ben Ali. He ran to the house, and there I saw the Gray Mare, my sister, standing. She was bridled, but the saddle was missing.
“‘Stand here!’ said the Son of Ben Ali. He placed his hand on the yard fence and sprang over, though the gate was near. He ran to the big tree near the corner of the house, and began to walk upward. This was new to me, so I started back in some surprise. But the Son of Ben Ali called to me to be quiet, and in a minute he had disappeared in the little window that juts from the roof.