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Show But it was not until that draw was finished and another one as well, and all the hay put up, that Rob McLaughlin Mc-Laughlin said the boys could have the rest of the summer to do as they pleased in. Rest? There wasn't any rest. September was here, and there were only four days before the date for which Howard's return accommodations accommo-dations had been taken. But four days was twice as much as they would need. So they announced an-nounced that they were off for a camping trip, and Nell put up provisions pro-visions for them, and Thunderhead and Flicka were hung with bags, rifles, slickers, frying pans, and the boys rode away up the Saddle Back. Under their feet the bare rolling hills and soft burned grass beyond, the Buckhorn Mountains, a wilderness wilder-ness of forests and peaks. And an infinite distance away and above, as if born up on the lower crests, a gleaming shape misted in clouds the Thunderer beckoning to them! And how eagerly they answered. Not the antelope nor the jackrab-bits jackrab-bits fled more swiftly over the plains than the four young things, wild with THE STORY THUS FAR: Thunder-bead Thunder-bead li tha-only white horse ever foaled on the Goose Bar ranch in Wyoming. He Is a throwback to his great grandslre, the Albino, a wild stallion. His 14-year-old owner, Ken McLaughlin, hopes that . he will become a famous racer. Thun derhead Is entered at a fall race meet In Idaho. He Is very fast but Is hard to handle. Rob McLaughlin, Ken's father, sells off most of his horses and goes Into sheep raising. Financial worries had created a rift between Rob and his wife, Nell, but they are reconciled. Ken Is to go with Thunderhead to the races. Nell finds that she will soon be a mother again. CHAPTER XXI Of course, no riding; and there was a new outdoor couch with wheels on the terrace under the pergola where she lay for many hours, not doing anything, her hands clasped behind her neck, her eyes on the sky or the distant hills. Often the hair of her bang was darkened with sweat, and there were tiny beads on her upper lip, and her hands were not steady. Their father had called both boys to him soon after they got home and had said with his harshest voice and his fiercest eyes, "Don't do anything any-thing this summer that will cause your mother trouble or pain or the least anxiety!" "No, sir," he and Howard had answered instantly. Afterwards, they had looked at each other with a long thoughtful look. This was serious. It mustn't be forgotten. Their father sure meant what he said. Howard's coming home had been another excitement, because Howard How-ard was changed. At least he was changed when Ken first saw him getting off the train and riding home in the car telling his mother and father things about the school in a deep voice that never slipped up any more. He was in his gray tweed suit, and the Fedora didn't look funny on his face now. When he got into a shirt and blue-Jeans blue-Jeans with a bandana hanging out of his hind pocket, Ken began to feel more easy with him. And next day Howard stopped sitting gravely with his mother and father and began to devil , Ken and wrestle with him. And on the third day they started to tell each other things. Ken made the acquaintance of Howard's two best friends at school, Jake who was a football star, and Bugs. And in turn he told Howard all about his trip to the Valley of the Eagles, and promised to take Howard there as soon as there was a chance, and undid his belt and pulled up his his picket rope and stood there paw- ing impatiently, nickering again andi again. Flicka woke up and was also seized by the excitement of meeting stranger. Thunderhead ran around the circle allowed him by his picket rope. He backed away, lowered his head and gave it a few shakes, pulling pull-ing at the rope. But his training had been thorough. It was now al- most a physical impossibility foi( him to fight a head t rope. He plunged a bit, and then reared up, pawing the air. When he came down he whirled and looked at those mares again just dark shadows in the vague gray dawn then he dropped his muzzle to earth, placed one forefoot on the rope, with a little fling of his head got it between his teeth and bit it through as neatly as he had bitten off the leg of the eagle. With an eager neigh he trotted off toward the mares, leaving Flicka impatient and unhappy, nickering' lonesomely, but too docile to at-j tempt escape. Ken had been dreaming all night of the playful nickering of horses. He dreamed he was riding Thunderhead Thunder-head on the range in a band of yearlings, but why did they keep1 nickering so? What was attracting their attention? There came an uneasiness un-easiness into the dream. The nickering nick-ering persisted but, as if attempting to present a plausible explanation, the dream changed rapidly. Now he was riding Flicka in the brood marebunch. And now he was riding rid-ing in the corrals on the day of the weaning, for that was surely the I nickering of young colts Ken's dreams became still more uneasy, and he sat up suddenly and saw the dawn and knew where he was and could not understand why the nickering continued even now that the dream was ended. There was one dazed minute In which he sat there, collecting his wits, brushing the sleep nd the hair out of his eyes, and then he realized that off near the rampart was a group of mares and colts with a white horse among them, and that the nickering came from them. It was just what he had seen on his former visit to the valley except that this was only a small number of mares; and the Albino, for some reason or other, was not behaving like a sensible stallion but was rearing, rear-ing, squealing, whirling around to face first this one then the other, in fact was a living coil of movement move-ment and excitement. But there was nickering closer at hand too, and suddenly Ken became shirt, and showed him the scar from the eagle's talons. It was still impressive. im-pressive. ... "You know, Howard! Gee! Sometimes Some-times I just can't believe it." "Can't believe what?" "That it's all turning out. to be real about Thunderhead." "Real? Why you dope what fun would it be if it wasn't real?" "Well, I dunno " "Were you just pretending about it all?" "Oh, of course not!" Ken was puzzled about that. How you can be planning a thing in a real way thinking about it nearly all the time, and yet it is more of a dream than a reality, so that when it suddenly comes true and has to be geared in with actual events, hours and dates and weighing scales, and entrance fees and shipping arrangements, it is just as much of a shock as if you never really expected it to happen. Howard was squinting one eye, and then the other, making a hawk that was floating high up move from s one end of a cloud to the other. "When we get to Saginaw Falls and change these heavy shoes he's wearing to light aluminum shoes they'll feel so light on his feet he'll go like the wind." Howard held a finger in the air above his face and looked to one side of it and then the other. "And if Charley Sargent buys Dad's surplus hay and sends it down to Saginaw Falls for the race, then 'Thunderhead won't have to change . to a different kind of hay from what he's used to. Besides. Charley can sell it down there for fifty dollars a ton. He said so. Mountain hay is the best, and down there they'll pay anything if they think it will give their nags a better chance. But nobody can beat Thunderhead!" Ken went off suddenly into one of his wild bursts of joy. rolling over backwards back-wards and trying to stand on his head. "Can't you do that?" said Howard contemptuously. He got up slowly, stood on his head with ease and nonchalance, then lay down and stretched out again. Howard sniffed at such childishness. childish-ness. "Say! When shall we eo down there to the Valley of the Facles""- "Let's go soon. Golly. I hope that one-legged eagle is there! I'd like to pay him back for what hp dirt to me." "Maybe we could so this uc-K end." "We won't say a thins: nhoi where we're coins." said !V-. m "It mislht worry mothor " "IS'o. Just for a camping tvp " "Yes. Rut I hot dad us any tirre off till wevo this draw " How ;rd !' ' -watch. "Hour's up. We'd 1 . , .- ... to it." "Hah! You goof! Do you expect to look like him?" excitement and freedom, galloping south with yells and shouts and pounding hoofs, and their faces cold in a wind that was sharp and sweet with snow. From the moment of leaving the ranch Thunderhead was in a state of intense excitement. And when they Had climbed the Saddle Back and headed south, his wild eyes and his nostrils and his pricked ears never ceased exploring those mountains moun-tains ahead of them. His mountains! His valley! from which high fences and stern masters had kept him for a year. He was hard to hold when the smell of the river reached them. Ken let him go and he galloped on the little trail he had made himself until they rounded the hill and the Silver Plume river came into view. While the horses watered, the boys debated whether they should stop and fish, or try to complete the trip that night; and because of Howard's limited time decided on the latter. Thunderhead took the lead and they plunged into the mountains. He was filled with a fiery and masterful energy. He had never forgotten; and now that the way was open to his inherited destiny, he was ready and eager for it. His stallion's consciousness con-sciousness had come of age at last. It was already twilight in the gorge; and under some of the overhanging over-hanging cliffs and great trees the trail led into darkness. But Thunderhead Thun-derhead went swiftly; and when the boys stopped to pause and look and exclaim at the plunge of the great waterfalls or the foaming cauldrons of Whitewater, his iron shoe struck the rock impatiently, and his strident stri-dent neigh tore the thunderous roar of the river. The scent was getting stronger, and it maddened him with ,joy. It was the scent of a destiny, of a life, of an overwhelming emotion. For not under the saddle or running obediently obe-diently around a track, but here in these mountains lay his whole existence exist-ence and he had carried the flame of it in his consciousness for a year That evening they pitched camp in the park-like grounds not far from the base of the valley rampart. Picketed with Flicka below the camp Thunderhead did not lie down and sleep as a young horse should. Only older horses, who no longer have crowing pains, sleep standing on their feet. Rut Thunderhead stood all niLtht lone, his body quivering, tinned to that rampart and the pass into the vnlloy. his ears pricked to i- r -h the fa : 'ost so-ind He know it uni a'ely uhen. in early .n. a gnxip of mares ! ! s ' '! tVrouJh the pass to . , i L: here l p ov the v. :, to ' ' - t lo . .. u anxious lest Thunderhead and Flicka should be excited by the proximity of strange mares and break away from their picket lines. He flung back his blankets, leaped out of them and ran down stream. It brought him up sharp to see only one horse there. Flicka hardly paid any attention to his arrival. Her ears were pricked toward those strange mares, and she pawed the ground, and it was her nickering that had aroused him. In a daze, Ken picked up the second sec-ond picket rope and looked at the end of it. Bitten clean through. He dropped it and rubbed his hand through his hair. That was Thunderhead Thun-derhead over there with the mares then, not the Albino! No wonder he had behaved peculiarly. Thunderhead Thun-derhead with mares at last! Ken's mind began to labor. He must be got away from them immediately! im-mediately! The Albino might come out through the pass, looking for those mares. And suddenly near-panic near-panic seized Ken. The race 80 near! And the least injury to Thunderhead at this late date might make it impossible im-possible for him to run. Now he thought fast. He picked up a nose-bag half full of oats and walked very quietly over toward the mares. As he drew near, he called Thunderhead Thun-derhead softly and held out the nosebag nose-bag and shook it. The oats made a rustling sound. That was enough, as a rule, to draw twenty horses at a run. But Thunderhead merely turned his head to glance at him, then gave his attention to the mares again. Now and then he would drop his nose to the ground and half-circle half-circle the mares plunging at them turning, dodging, snaking them. It looked as if he were going to round them up! Ken became more alarmed. If he rounded them up, he'd get them going and he'd go along with them, and it would be still harder to catch him! "Here Boy! Here Thunderhead! Come along, boy. Here's your oats Oats, Thunderhead! OATS!" Thunderhead paid no attention. With more determination now, he drove at the mares. He whipped around them, got them moving, drove them toward the cleft in the rampart. Ken stood still, appalled by the realization that the horse had actually actu-ally taken possession of the mares. They gave him complete obedience, as if the electric power within him had welded them all into a unit of which he was head and master. Suddenly Ken ran forward again. "Oh. Thunderhead! Come, boy! Oats! Come get your breakfast!" "Hey. Ken! Ken!" rang out behind be-hind him. "What's up?" A Howard came running. Ken looked at him speechlessly. Howard saw T't'unriorbr-ad unving the mares throi.h the cap. ,:;d he too halted. ,io i-.k . :vi..m;eD) |