THE Black Horse struck its feet upon the ground, and spreading its hovering wings, it sped away, skimming along the surface of the earth. It did not rise into the air, for now it could not do so.
That wonderful Black Winged Horse. So it is, little child; for though, when free of curb and bit, he may soar aloft, higher and higher, until he vanishes like a speck into the bosom of heaven, far, far away beyond the keenest sight, yet, when a man sits astride of his back, as David now sat astride of him, he cannot rise high. He may skim along the surface, riding dry-shod, maybe, over the oceans and the rivers of water, but never rising, when so burdened, higher than the height of a man above the ground.
So the Black Horse skimmed and sped away, carrying David upon its back. Away and away, so swiftly that the dark earth seemed to slide away beneath it, and David had to hold his hat to keep it from flying from his head.
The sun sank, and the gray shadows of twilight seemed to rise upward from the earth, and to lie dim and misty in the hollows of the rocks. On and on sped the horse, on and on. The daylight faded and faded, and one bright star shone out keen and clear in the western sky.
"Look," said the Black Horse, "do you see anything yet "
David shaded his eyes with his hand. "I see," said he, "far, far away, a speck against the sky."
"It is not a speck," said the Black Horse.
On and on it sped, and the red light in the sky melted into a thin gray, and one starry point after another began to prick through the vault of heaven.
"Look," said the horse, "what do you see by now?"
Again David looked, striving to pierce the distance. "I see," said he, "something against the sky, and it looks like a house, far, far away."
"Aye," said the Black Horse, "it is a house indeed!"
On and on sped the horse, and now the slow moon rose up red and round into the eastern sky. "Tell me," said the horse at last, "what do you see now?"
This time David did not have to look before he spoke. "I see," said he, "a great castle towering as black as ink against the sky, and it is all built of iron--a great dark, grim place, with the iron doors studded all over with bolts, and high up under the eaves a double row of windows with iron gratings shutting them in."
"That," said the Black Horse, "is the Iron Castle of the Iron Man." And as it spoke, it stood at the castle gateway, and David leaped to the ground.
"Whistle when you want me again," said the horse, "and I shall be here." Then instantly it was gone, and David stood all alone, with nothing in front of him but the castle wall and the great door studded all over with iron bolts.
It took the Winged Horse three hours to make that journey from the fountain to the Iron Castle: it would have taken you a life-time--or David either, for the matter of that, hero though he was.