Book : The Black Stallion Revolts - Farley, Walter

-Titulo Original : The Black Stallion Revolts

-Fabricante :

Yearling

-Descripcion Original:

After the Black attacks another horse, Alec realizes that the once-wild horse needs more space and freedom, so they head out west to a huge ranch. But a terrible accident separates the two, leaving Alec with amnesia and the Black alone to reclaim the wild life to which he was born. As the Black struggles to survive, and as Alec struggles to remember who he is and his connection to the magnificent stallion in the canyon, a gripping adventure story unfolds. From the Inside Flap After the Black attacks another horse, Alec realizes that the once-wild horse needs more space and freedom, so they head out west to a huge ranch. But a terrible accident separates the two, leaving Alec with amnesia and the Black alone to reclaim the wild life to which he was born. As the Black struggles to survive, and as Alec struggles to remember who he is and his connection to the magnificent stallion in the canyon, a gripping adventure story unfolds. From the Back Cover After the Black attacks another horse, Alec realizes that the once-wild horse needs more space and freedom, so they head out west to a huge ranch. But a terrible accident separates the two, leaving Alec with amnesia and the Black alone to reclaim the wild life to which he was born. As the Black struggles to survive, and as Alec struggles to remember who he is and his connection to the magnificent stallion in the canyon, a gripping adventure story unfolds. About the Author Walter Farleys first book, The Black Stallion, was an instant hit when it appeared in 1941. Mr. Farley went on to write thirty-three other enormously popular books about the Black Stallion and other horses which were published in more than twenty countries. He died in 1989, shortly before the publication of his last novel, The Young Black Stallion, written with his son Steven. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The gray gelding, Napoleon, was built from the ground up and butter fat. His roundness was not due to overfeeding or lack of exercise but to a most placid disposition and an ease of adapting himself to any kind of situation or way of life. He stood with one hind foot drawn in an easy, relaxed position and eyes half-closed. Only his long ears moved, and they just wobbled as if the weight of them was too much for him to bear at this particular moment. He was the picture of contentment; as peaceful as the June night which enveloped him. There was no reason for him to appear otherwise. He was perfectly happy with his life. The grass of his paddock moved in the night breeze, giving it the soft, liquid motion of the sea. There were stars and a moon, and together they shone frostlike on the fences and roofs of the barns and main house a short distance away. Finally the old gray roused himself to saunter about his paddock. His movements were slow and quiet. He was very particular in his choice of grass. He would stop only long enough to crop a few mouthfuls, then go on to other grasses that appealed more to his fancy and discriminating taste. But it wasnt long before he returned to his favorite haunt beneath the billowing oak tree. He closed his eyes again. All was quiet, and as it should be. The inky silhouette of a tall, black stallion moved in the adjacent paddock to his left. Teeth clicked sharply as the stallion cut the grass low and even. The grays wobbling ears were keen, and by using them he followed the movements of the Black. He was well aware, too, of the whereabouts of the burly black horse in still another paddock, the one on his right. He had heard Satan snort a few moments ago. The breeze became stronger, gently whipping his body with a shower of deep evening coolness. After the heat of day it felt very good. That there were no flies to bother him added to his enjoyment. For ideal comfort this was the way it should be. A fly-protected barn during the day, and at night the freedom of the paddock