“You have this-a test horse?”
“He will be here tomorrow.”
“You could use maybe another one, too? One to take the blood of Satan and the Black?”
The veterinarian’s gaze met Tony’s. “You mean your horse?”
“He one healthy horse, my Nappy,” Tony said excitedly. “He never sick in his life.”
“But I have a test horse, and one is all we need now.”
“But it’s-a better if you have two, yes?” Tony insisted. “If Napoleon no get sick, you know what you look for is in five horses, not seven. Five is smaller than seven, yes?”
“Naturally, the smaller the group the better,” the veterinarian said. “If Napoleon developed swamp fever and the other test horse didn’t, we’d know Satan or the Black—or possibly both of them—was the carrier of the disease.”
“Then you will use him,” Tony said. “You make me one happy man, Meester Veterinary.”
The veterinarian watched Tony closely. “You’re sure you want to do this? We could get along without your Napoleon now, and if by chance he should contract swamp fever from the inoculation it means certain death, you know.”
“My Nappy … I’m sure he wants it this-a way,” Tony said more soberly. “He’s-a like brother to the Black and Satan. And now he will have their blood in him. It’s the only way, Meester Veterinary.”
“All right,” the veterinarian said quietly. “It will make our job easier. When can you have him here?”
“Tomorrow morning I be back,” Tony said excitedly. “I go now and get him, and we drive all night.” Turning, Tony ran hard to Henry’s van.
He took one look in the back of the van to make sure all the tack had been removed, then slammed the door shut and went to the front. Inside the cab, he turned on the ignition and started the motor. He had the van in gear and was slowly moving away when Henry, Alec and Mr. Ramsay appeared at the barn door.
It was only when Tony had the van in high gear and was speeding down the road that he waved to them.
“Now what’s come over him?” Henry asked. “And where’s he going with my van?”
“Probably back to the inn,” Mr. Ramsay suggested. “But I don’t understand why he didn’t wait for us.”
“I can’t see it either,” Alec said; then he looked over at the stone house, to find the veterinarian standing on the porch, watching the van until it had disappeared among the trees. “I wonder,” he muttered.
“Wonder what, Alec?” Henry asked.
“Nothing, Henry. Nothing.”
SMALL, WORRIED WORLD
15
Early the following morning, Alec, Henry and Mr. Ramsay left their rooms at the inn and went to the small dining room for breakfast. Already the room was crowded with trainers, owners and reporters, but Henry was able to find three empty seats at the counter.
“I still can’t understand Tony’s fadeout,” he said as they sat down.
“He probably wanted to get back to work,” Mr. Ramsay said after they had given their orders. “But he did tell me he had arranged for a friend to take over his route while he was away. I was under the impression that he intended to stay here awhile. He was so concerned about the Black and Satan.”
“But why did he have to take my van?” Henry persisted. “ ’Course I don’t have any use for it just now. But he could have asked me, anyway. I don’t like it.”
“No,” Mr. Ramsay agreed, “and I don’t blame you. It’s not at all like Tony.” Turning to Alec, he asked, “What do you think is the reason for his leaving, Alec?”
The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Tony usually has a good reason for anything he does. So I’m just letting it go at that. I’m sure we’ll know before long.”
“We’d better,” Henry growled, turning to the plate of ham and eggs which the counterman had placed before him.
When they had finished breakfast and were leaving, Henry stopped to talk to the other trainers before rejoining Alec and Mr. Ramsay outside the inn.
“Seems like ‘most everybody is leavin’,” Henry said as they got into Mr. Ramsay’s car. “They don’t see what good their hanging around is goin’ to do. If the worst comes, they’ll hear of it soon enough. I guess they’re right. The vet and his assistants are takin’ over completely.”
“Still, I want to stick around,” Alec said as Mr. Ramsay started the car and drove down the street.
“With us it’s different,” Henry returned. “The vet and his boys can handle Satan all right, but not the Black. We’ll have to take care of him ourselves.”
Mr. Ramsay turned the car down the blacktop road and started across the open fields. They had reached the bridge when he said, “And that’s not the only reason it’s different for us, Henry. The others have more horses, if anything should happen to those here. But we don’t. Satan and the Black are all we have … and upon them we have built all our hopes for the future. We have nothing if we lose them.”
Henry glanced at Alec, to find the boy’s gaze directly on the road ahead. “Yes,” the trainer admitted, turning to Mr. Ramsay, “you’re right, of course. But nothin’ is goin’ to happen to either one of ’em. Or to any of the others. I’d wager almost anything that none of the horses here will come down with swamp fever. The chances are good that they’d be showing some symptoms by now if they’d picked up the disease from El Dorado. But none of ‘em show a thing yet … an’ I don’t think they will.”
Coming off the bridge, they continued across the fields until they reached the dirt road. The woods closed in on them, shutting out the morning sun. After going a mile and a half, they came to the sharp left turn and went up the slight incline to the farm.
There was but one van parked in front of the barn, and they looked at it with incredulous eyes.
“Henry!” Alec shouted. “It’s yours!”
“It sure is!” Henry returned. “It’s mine all right. But why did Tony …”
“Look! In the pasture, Henry!” Alec cried.
Then they all saw the gray, sway-backed figure of Napoleon as the horse grazed contentedly in the field.
“But why would Tony get Napoleon?” Mr. Ramsay asked. “I don’t get it at all, Henry.” He brought the car to a stop before the barn. “Not at all,” he repeated.
“I’m beginning to,” Henry said slowly.
“I had a hunch this might be it,” Alec said, getting out of the car. “But I still didn’t believe I could be right.”
Napoleon raised his heavy head, neighing to them before once more turning to the grass.
“What are you two driving at?” Mr. Ramsay asked.
“We think Tony had his own idea as to who should be the test horse,” Henry said, leading the way toward the barn. “But let’s find out for sure.”
Entering the barn, they found the veterinarian and his assistants, all dressed in long white cloaks, leaving Satan’s stall. And Tony was with them.
Alec and Henry ran forward, and when they reached the group, the veterinarian said, “I’m glad you’re here. Tony said it would be wiser to have you around with him.” He nodded toward the Black. “We have taken blood samples from all except him.”
Henry and Alec glanced at Tony, who sheepishly moved away from the stall door.
“I’ll stay at his head,” Alec said. “I don’t think it’ll be easy working around him.”
“It’ll only take a minute,” the veterinarian returned.
“Put the lead shank on him and pass it through to me in the next stall,” Henry suggested, handing the shank to Alec. “It’ll be easier holdin’ him that way.”
Before going inside the stall, Alec got a container of oats and a pocketful of carrots. The Black came to him when the boy poured the oats into the corner feedbox. Snapping the lead shank onto his halter, Alec passed the end through the wire screen to Henry in the next stall.
The boy stood close to the stallion’s head, fondling him while he ate the grain. But the Black stopped eating as soon as the veteri
narian and his assistants entered the stall. He pulled back, only to find himself held close by the shank and Alec’s hand on his halter. His hindquarters shifted quickly, but the men were close to his neck before his hindlegs flew out, striking the side of the stall. The men stood still then, waiting while Alec talked to the stallion and offered him a handful of oats. Finally the Black took the oats from Alec, but his eyes constantly shifted to the strangers in his stall.
Patiently the veterinarian waited until the stallion turned from Alec’s hand to the feedbox. But he stopped eating again when he felt their hands upon his neck. He jerked his head up, but the shank held him close. He swung his hindquarters once more, attempting to pin the men against the wall, then moved quickly away from them when he came up against the pointed stick an assistant held in his hand for just such an emergency.
“I guess we’ll have to use the rail to keep him still,” the veterinarian said finally.
One of the men left the stall to return a few minutes later with a long wooden bar, which he shoved through the door and put to one side of the Black to keep his hindquarters from shifting.
The stallion moved against it, but the bar stopped him from going any farther. Alec stayed at his head, talking to him, offering him carrots and grain.
“They’re not going to hurt you,” he said. “It’ll be over in a matter of seconds. They’ve got to do it. It’s not going to hurt.”
The veterinarian and his assistants were outside the bar. Alec saw the needle and knew they were going to work. The stallion pushed heavily against the bar, but it didn’t give way. Instead it held him close to the side of his stall. He tried jerking his head back again, but the lead shank held him still. He could fight now, but there wouldn’t be any getting away.
The Black made two more futile efforts to free himself while Alec stood by his head, helpless to do anything to make it easier for his horse. He could not see the veterinarian, nor did he want to. He continued rubbing the Black’s head and at the same time offering him the carrots, which went unnoticed.
Suddenly the Black threw back his head, almost breaking the lead shank. Alec’s hand went to the halter. As he held him, he realized that the stallion had felt the sharp prick of the needle. But that would be all there was to it. It was over now.
A moment later the veterinarian straightened with the vial of the Black’s blood in his hand. He left the stall and the others with him followed after the bar had been removed.
Unsnapping the lead shank, Alec waited while the stallion moved restlessly about his stall, his gaze following the men as they walked down the corridor. It was only when they were out of sight that he turned to his feedbox and Alec.
While the stallion ate, Alec remained with him.
Outside the stall Henry and Mr. Ramsay were talking to Tony, and Alec could overhear their conversation without leaving the stall.
“He say it is okay with him for Nappy to be test horse for Satan and the Black,” Tony was explaining. “So I go an’ get him. It is the way it should be. You understand, Henree, yes?”
“Sure, I guess I do,” Henry replied. “Then I guess they’re pooling the blood of the other horses and are goin’ to put it in the vet’s test horse. Is that it, Tony?”
“Already they do that,” Tony said excitedly. “Before you come they do that. He’s in the pasture behind the barn. They kept him away from Nappy. They take no chances for anything, the veterinary say.” Tony’s hands were on the arms of Henry and Mr. Ramsay. “But now they put the blood of Satan and the Black in my Nappy. You come and see, yes? It’s-a big moment for Nappy. Now he will be real brother to Satan and the Black. It’s-a one moment we never forget.…”
Alec left the Black, following the others until he came to Satan’s stall. The colt had his long nose stretched out, and Alec’s hand went to him. But the boy’s gaze remained upon the back of the little huckster as he said, “I know we won’t forget it, Tony. And I only hope everything turns out all right … for you and Napoleon as well as for Satan and the Black … and for us.”
From the moment that Napoleon was inoculated with the blood samples from Satan and the Black, Alec slipped into his own small and worried world. Day after day he spent alone, talking little to his father and Henry and always watching fearfully for the dreaded symptoms of swamp fever.
When the first week passed with no change in the condition of the racers Henry said, “See, Alec, just like I figured. It’s been long enough now since they were exposed to El Dorado for them to show some symptoms, if they had it. Now all we’ve got to do is watch the test horses, an’ if nothing happens to either of ’em we’re sure all the racers are free of swamp fever.”
But Alec did not share Henry’s optimism. He didn’t want to build up any false hopes. The racers still could be carriers of the disease and pass it on to Napoleon or the other test horse. It was too early to tell with them. The incubation period of swamp fever, the veterinarian had said, was from seven to twenty-eight days. And just to be very certain they were going to wait forty days from the time of inoculation. Forty days! And it was only a little over a week since the blood had passed from the racers to the test horses. It was too early to tell … much too early to share anyone’s optimism, even Henry’s. So Alec withdrew into his world again, and each passing day seemed a lifetime.
Mr. Ramsay stayed with them, and Tony left only occasionally on short visits to the city to make certain his customers were being served. “This-a boy who has taken over my route is a good friend,” he told them. “But maybe once in a while he needs me, so I go to him. No, I’m no worried about my Nappy getting this-a swamp fever. He no get anything but good blood from Satan and the Black. He’s happy here, yes? Just eat grass all day long. He work hard all his life, so now he take it easy. That’s-a good … very good. An’ now he’s-a famous, too.… Everyone knows my Nappy.… That’s-a good, too.”
Napoleon’s picture appeared in the newspapers regularly, for the two test horses had become international figures. The world knew that the fate of Avenger, Cavaliere, Kashmir, Phar Fly, Sea King, Satan and the Black depended upon the state of health of these two horses. So each day their condition was reported by press services to the far corners of the world. And the daily message was repeated, “No change in test horses on fourteenth day.” … “No change on fifteenth day.” … “No change on eighteenth day.”
The third week passed and with it Henry’s optimism rose to greater heights. “Come on, Alec,” he kidded. “Crack a smile. Everything is goin’ to be okay. Why, even the vet says the chances are getting better with every day now. If Napoleon or the other test horse had contracted swamp fever from their inoculations they’d be showing some signs of it. But they’re in better health than they ever were. Napoleon’s actin’ like a colt. See for yourself!”
Alec watched the old gray as he galloped and rolled luxuriously in the tall grass. “But I want to be sure, Henry,” he said, “… so sure, before I let go. And I won’t be until it’s all over, and I have clean bills of health for Satan and the Black in my hand.”
The last of September came, bringing rich and colorful fall dress to many of the trees. But the days remained unseasonably hot, and there was no sign of rain to break the prolonged dry spell that had existed since their arrival at the state farm. There were reports of small forest fires being fought to the north and west. And such talk didn’t lessen Alec’s anxiety while going through each day at the farm.
Napoleon remained in the field, although much of the grass had been burned out by the hot sun and hay was being fed him for a substitute. Alec spent part of each day with the old gray, watching him more closely perhaps than anyone else for any symptoms of swamp fever. But Napoleon remained active, and Alec would follow him as he sought green blades of grass along the wooded edges of the long and narrow field. It was on one of these days that the boy came upon a barred gate, half-hidden by creeping vines. He stood there for a moment, looking down the forest lane on the other side of the gate and
wondering where it led. Perhaps it joined the road leading to the valley. Perhaps not. It could have a dead end, just going to another clearing or farm building. But it wasn’t important, and he left the gate to follow Napoleon around the bend in the field to the lower pasture in the gray’s search of grass untouched by the sun.
With the coming of October, Henry’s optimism rose to still greater heights. “Another two and a half weeks an’ we’ll be on our way to our farm,” he told Alec. “We’ll spend the winter there and put up separate pastures for the Black and Satan. It’ll do ’em both a lot of good to be out most of the winter, if the weather is decent at all.”
“And there’s that school just a short distance away from the farm, Alec,” his father said. “I’ve been corresponding with them and you’ll be able to enroll even though you’ll be a little late.”
Eagerly Alec looked at them. “It sounds so good. I just …” He stopped, and the enthusiasm left his eyes. “It’s still too early to start planning,” he said. “We have seventeen days to go.”
During the following week, the nights turned cold but the days remained warm, and still there was no sign of rain in the cloudless skies. Leaves dropped from trees, and if it hadn’t been for the forest of evergreens the mountains would have stood bare and forlorn.
“I wish it would rain,” Alec told Henry. “I don’t like hearing all this talk of forest fires. That farm is a trap if anything happens around here.”
“There you go borrowin’ trouble again,” Henry retorted. “Natives always talk that way this time of the year. The forest rangers know their job. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Then came renewed activity in the village of Mountainview and at the state farm. For now that the test was coming quickly to its end, owners and trainers returned. Laughter and loud talk of races to be run the coming year were heard, and no longer were the faces of the men haggard with fear for the safety of their horses. Henry joined them in their discussions, but Alec stayed away, still counting off the remaining days as each went by.
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