The Black Stallion's Ghost by Walter Farley Page B

mind getting wet—it’s lightning that really shakes me up.”
    â€œYou’re afraid?” the captain asked, a note of surprise in his voice. “You who have the courage to race?”
    Alec smiled at the comparison but did not slow his strides. “A storm and a race are two different things,” he said, “calling for two different kinds of courage, if you wish to call it that. I’m afraid of lightning because I’ve seen too many animals killed in pasture by it, and my horse and I have had some terrible experiences in storms. They’re not easy to forget.”
    â€œThen I wish you would stay,” the captain said hopefully. “You may be right about this storm. See how the thunderheads are coming this way!”
    Alec glanced at the sky to the south, then back to meet the captain’s searching gaze. He wasn’t afraid of him any longer, but something brooded in those eyes. They held a hooded look, as if the man wanted something but would not divulge what it was.
    Was it that he and the captain were wary and suspicious of each other, friendly but on guard? There was no doubt that the captain wanted him to stay, and perhaps that had been his intention when he’d shown him the old prints. But why did the captain want him therewhen it was evident that he was most happy alone? Otherwise, he would not be in such a remote place.
    There was much Alec wanted to know but he had run out of time. Perhaps, as he’d told the captain, he’d come back another day. His strides lengthened until he was in a half-run. He wanted to reach his horse and get away immediately. It would give him time to decide whether or not he should return at all.

T HE S TORM
6
    Thunder rolled and the fast-moving clouds began to blot out the afternoon sun. Alec ran faster toward the shed where he had left the Black. A storm at sea had brought him and his horse together and he’d never forget it. There had been other storms during his travels, almost as bad, and he knew how he reacted to them. It was not a softness he was ashamed of but an acceptance of a new way of life. His fear of storms was locked tightly inside him and he could do nothing about it.
    â€œAt least wait until the storm passes,” the captain said, running alongside.
    â€œI think I’ll be able to make it.”
    â€œAs you wish,” the captain answered.
    A ragged, violet lightning flash split the sky as they approached the shed. It shook them both and Alec could not hide the fear in his eyes.
    â€œYou’ll never be able to outride it,” the captain said. “You and your horse will be much safer under cover. It might well be over in a few minutes.”
    Alec looked southward. The wind was increasing and lightning flashes were crackling over the saw-grass sea. If he started out and lost his sense of direction he’d really be in trouble. Yet if he stayed he doubted he’d be able to get away until very late. It did not look like the kind of storm that would be over in a few minutes.
    His decision to remain was made just as another flash of lightning came from the cloud cover almost directly overhead. It was dead white, and Alec had no time to involuntarily duck his head or even collect his wits as a thunderbolt crashed, seemingly a few feet to his right. It roared in his ears as he and the captain made a mad dash for the shed doors.
    A second blaze of lightning brightened the area when the captain pulled open the doors. “
Vite
, Alec, quickly, inside!” he shouted. They stepped inside and closed the doors behind them.
    The Black nickered and Alec went to him quickly. Storms affected the Black just as they affected him; each offered the other solace at such times. Whenever possible, Alec was with him during a bad storm. His hand rubbed the muscled ridge of the Black’s neck.
    There was another crash of thunder, and the light coming through the open window was eerie. Frequent flashes