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glance at the water cooler at the far end of the plane. That’s where the co-pilot had gotten it. Ice-cold water, the worst thing the Black could have had at this time.
    “I’m sure going to have something to tell the kids when I get home,” the co-pilot added. “Everyone in the neighborhood will know that I tended the Black. Well, I’ll get back now. Thanks a lot for letting me stay with him.”
    Alec said nothing. His eyes never left the Black. In five or ten minutes he’d know if the worst was going to happen. Fifteen minutes at the most. His heart pounded, choking the breath from him. Cramp colic always came soon and suddenly, if it came at all. He’d seen horses with it before, horses with careless handlers who had given their charges long drinks of cold water when the animals were warm, or had ridden them,when heated, through deep streams or cold rains. The result was spasms of the small intestines, causing intense pain. Although most painful, this form of colic was scarcely ever fatal if one had the services of a veterinarian to give injections that would stop the pain, and one was able to walk his horse, keeping him on his feet, so he could not roll and rupture his stomach or bowels.
    But what could he do here in the confines of this plane, thousands of feet above a mountainous wilderness?
If cramp colic did come, what would he do?
    He felt his self-confidence ebbing. He stood there, watching the Black, hoping desperately that nothing was going to happen. Angrily, he shook off his feeling of helplessness. Going to the tack trunk, he took out a bottle of medicine he had used before on colicky horses while awaiting the arrival of a veterinarian. He removed another blanket and a bottle of liniment, placing them on top of the trunk, and then he went back to the stallion. The Black was quiet, even drowsing. Perhaps … He looked at his watch. Ten minutes had gone by. He left the Black to go quickly into the pilots’ compartment.
    They had their backs to him, the co-pilot wearing his radio headset. They did not know he was there until he said, “I might have a sick horse.”
    Surprised by his presence, they turned simultaneously. “Sick?” the captain asked, studying Alec’s face. “How sick?”
    “Bad, if it comes at all.”
    “Then he isn’t sick now?”
    “No.”
    “How do you know he will be?”
    “I don’t know for sure. But you’d better get to the nearest airport anyway.”
    The captain tried to smile. “You’re kidding. We’re over the roughest part of the trip.”
    “I’m not kidding,” Alec said. “It’s cramp colic, and if it comes I won’t be able to control him.”
    “You mean …” The captain stopped, his face turning white. “How long do we have?”
    “A matter of minutes now, longer only if I can keep control.” Alec’s eyes met the captain’s. “We’ve got to get down.”
    Turning away, the captain opened the throttle and kicked the plane hard to the right. Through the windshield Alec saw the spinning peaks below.
    “Give me an hour,” the captain said. “I’ll need an hour. There’s a small airport behind us.” He turned to his co-pilot. “Get them on the radio. Tell them we’ll be coming in, and why.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Alec returned to the Black. The stallion had his small head raised. He whinnied as Alec came toward him. He put out his tongue. Alec pulled it, then let go.
    A few minutes went by with Alec praying that he was all wrong, that nothing was going to happen. He was conscious of the racing engines and in silent prayer urged them to still greater speed. Only when he and the Black were on the ground would his deathly fear leave him. With or without a veterinarian’s services he’d have a chance there. On the ground he might be able to work the pain out of the stallion. But not uphere. Here, if it came, the results would be fatal to all of them.
    For another minute it was quiet except for the roaring engines, and then the Black stopped his