The Black Stallion Revolts Quotes

“walked him again, and as he did, he tried to understand the reason for the Black’s sudden, vicious attack on Satan. For many months his horse had been all a well-mannered stallion should be. Why, then, had he reverted to the role of a killer tonight? And what were he and Henry going to do about it?”
― Walter Farley, The Black Stallion Revolts

“The stallion paid not the slightest attention to him. The gray ran with his ears back, his teeth snapping in rage between the boards because he knew the stallion’s savage intent, and could do nothing to keep him from the black horse beyond. The gelding stopped when he came to the end of his enclosure. He neighed loudly and incessantly, knowing this was the only useful thing he could do. But his warnings of the disturbed peace were deadened by the force of the wind. The house and barn remained dark. Turning from the dirt road, the tall stallion ran down the corridor between the paddocks. Every possible precaution had been taken to make the paddocks foolproof, to keep one stallion from another, to forestall just such an emergency as this. The”
― Walter Farley, The Black Stallion Revolts

“He had wanted to run and, failing that, to lie down and roll and kick. He’d found he could do neither, for the woods were solid and alive with thickly grown trees, giving him room only to wind his way among them. Thus, he had been forced to stay on his feet, to walk … and this light exercise, more than anything else, had brought his cramps to an end. He forgot his pains quickly. Now his small, fine head was raised high, sniffing the air, his nostrils quivering. He continued walking in a northerly direction, his ears pointed and alert to new and strange sounds … monotonous and low scraping notes, sharp staccato calls, and, in the distance, a forlorn and dismal howl. The howl came again, wailing in the wind. He was interested, but unafraid. He had known the great solitude of the wild in another land. Now he was entering a new and strange and beautiful country, but it held no terrors for him. He was alone and free. He remembered nothing of his domestic life, of barns or farms, or a boy who loved him.”
― Walter Farley, The Black Stallion Revolts