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Show I THE STORY THUS FAR: Thunder-head, Thunder-head, commonly known as the Goblin, Is the only white horse ever born on the Goose Bar ranch In Wyoming. He Brows i Irom a misshapen colt to a powerful ! yearling, resembling his great grandslre : more every day. The grandslre is a wild stallion called the Albino. One day Gob-lin Gob-lin wanders into a mountain valley, ' meets the Albino, and barely escapes ' with hii life. After his wounds heal, his 12-year-old owner, Ken McLaughlin, be-1 be-1 gins to train him. The McLaughlins I m jm secretly hope he will develop into a L I A racer. The Goblin Is difficult to handle, but one day he surrenders to Ken, and sets off across the prairies. He runs with astonishing ease, speed and endurance. CHAPTER XIII As she approached him, everything every-thing forgotten but the longing tor closeness and understanding, he looked up at her. Her iris-colored eyes were dark with emotion. They were shadowed underneath, but they were full of gentleness and affection affec-tion and her smile pleaded for reconciliation. rec-onciliation. Rob held out his hand to her. She leaned over to kiss him and he kissed her in return. Their eyes did not quite meet. "Are you going up?" he asked. a "Yes." "Don't wait for me. I'm going to read awhile." The "track" was a half mile oval on the level range north of Lone Tree Creek, about two miles from the ranch house. This had been selected by the boys immediately upon their arrival home from school this summer as Thunderhead'-fK practice and trial ground. There was a natural grand- make a person suddenly stop in passing, look again then stand hypnotized. hyp-notized. The intensity of the black eye with the thin thread of white around it the wildness, the implacable implac-able determination the bigness of the head the way the heavy neck curved and drew the chin in to the chest then suddenly flung the head high with the black muzzle reaching reach-ing up the nostrils flaring "I'll be damned," said Sargent weakly again. "Isn't he a racer at all, Mr. Sargent?" Sar-gent?" "He's not a racing type. Not a runner. Not that he might not, perhaps beat a racer 1 With that power, no telling what he could do! Is' he fast?" "Well sometimes, if he wants to be. He really can run, but he doesn't always do it." "You, don't think he's too heavy, Charley?" Nell asked. Not like a work horse?" "My Gosh, no! Those legs they're strong but they're trim and clean. He's a heavy hunter type. All the power in the world there." At every word waves of hot and cold went through Ken. Praise of Thunderhead! Power? Ken knew his power. Would he ever forget the first ride he had had on him this summer? It was not just the ride. It was an experience of power and will that had been communicated from the horse's body to his own and had left a mark in his consciousness con-sciousness that ' would never be erased. He smoothed Thunderhead's nose softly. 'He's strong all right." The stallion's eyes turned a lit- Thunderhead when we train him, or by herself." "Mr. Sargent," said Howard, "our two-year-olds are going to be gelded right away and dad says Thunder-head's Thunder-head's got to be gelded too. Do you think he ought to be?" At this unpleasant reminder of the one thing that was preying on his mind, the happiness went out of the day for Ken. Nell's cheeks colored with anger and she turned away and walked over to the "grandstand." "Come along, Howard, give me a hand up here! We'd better get started!" Sargent looked at Ken's white, sullen sul-len face. "What's the matter, son?" Ken gave a little jerk of his head toward Howard. "What he was saying say-ing there. Dad's going to have all the two-year-olds gelded." "When?" "Some time this week. He's sent word to Doc Hicks to come and do it whenever he's in this neighborhood. neighbor-hood. Then dad won't have to pay for his driving out and back just for our horses." "Is he going to geld Thunderhead too?" "Yep." "Well, what if he does? He won't be the only one. They all have to be gelded, you know." "But he's going to be a race horse!" "What's that got to do with it? Race horses get gelded too most of them. It won't hurt him. And it may improve his appearance. I wouldn't like to see that neck of his get any thicker." "But he might die!" "Oh, nonsense! It won't hurt him. "Rut TTiavhp. if he runs well enough. stand to one side, a peak of craggy rock spearing up. They had outlined out-lined the oval track by setting posts at the curves. These posts Thunderhead Thun-derhead must understand he was to run outside of, not in. Sometimes he did, sometimes he did not. Not that he did not understand! They had painted a broad band ol white across the course at the finish, just in front of the grandstand and here Thunderhead had run many a mile, wondering, no doubt, where was the sense in it. Running to shelter in a storm running away from enemies and dangerous places just even running with his own band for fun and exercise on the Saddle Back this could be understoood. But running run-ning on the fiat range, often at top speed, around and around those posts, with a small demon yelling on top of him and another jumping up and down on the rock this was incomprehensible. The air was fresh after the storm, the range green and dustless. Nell, was in white linen jodhpurs and white silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up on her slender brown arms. Her face was without care or worry, like a child's when a picnic is ahead. She sat beside Sargent in his car, pointing out to him the way to the track, for it could not be reached by any of the roads on the ranch. In the back of the car was How-' How-' ard with the bucket of oats. Just hpfnro thov had started thev had c-j. . .... ,J,'i.,mi m- 11 .if . - . we could get your father to change his mind." Ken shook his head. "He never changes his mind." "Never does?" "No." "Well, anyway, let's see what the colt can do now. Up with you." He clutched the seat of Ken's pants, and the boy went lightly up into the saddle. sad-dle. He hitched his feet into the little lit-tle short stirrups and grinned down at Sargent. "I don't usually ride with these short stirrups. I ride bareback a lot. It's kind of hard to get used to. But I can do it." He squeezed his knees together, and bent over the horse's withers like a jockey. Sargent's long brown face was twinkling with enjoyment. "Give him a bit of a workout first to warm him up. Remember, I've an interest inter-est in this colt too!" This was very cheering to Ken as he gave the signal to Thunderhead and the colt started forward. Perhaps, Per-haps, if Mr. Sargent had an interest in him too, he might say something some-thing to his father about the gelding. Sargent stood looking at him as he cantered down the course, noticing his action. Then he climbed up on the grandstand beside Nell and Howard. How-ard. There was a ledge quite high up (from which they could overlook the whole track. Howard held the stop watch in his hand. heard a yell, and Ken came running run-ning with a bucket half full of oats and a halter rope. His face showed embarrassment as he apologized for Thunderhead and stuck the bucket in the car. "Just in case in case he got away or something and I had trouble in getting him back." "So," said Sargent, as they drove along, "he gets away, does he? And is hard to get back?" "Aw" said Howard, "he's pretty good. We haven't been training him very long, you know." "Sometimes," said Nell, "he runs clear oft and doesn't come back for a long time. Look, Charley you go down this slope here and. through Lone Trep that shallow place there." Charley slowed down to put the car through the creek. "Where does the colt go?" he asked. "That's what we'd all like to know," said Nell. "He came back once with cuts 1 and scratches," said Howard, lean- SV ; f ing over the back of their seat. "And a terrible big wound in the chest. Dad said a stallion had pawed him." Charley Sargent seemed to have been struck dumb. He stood looking at the horses, first Thunderhead, then the filly. Touch And Go. She had moved away a little and was grazing quietly. Finally he reached for the makings, rolled himself a cigarette and took a long puff. "Ken." he said quietly, "I'll be damned." Ken, at the colt's head, looked at him anxiously, the color coming and going in his face. "So that!" said Sargent in his drawling voice, "is Thunderhead out of Flicka by Appalachian!" "Yes, sir, he's by Appalachian all Ujf ilO "How old is he?" J " "Just a short two. Do you do you think he looks pretty good, Mr. Sargent?" "He's nothing of a racer" "He isn't!" "Nothing like any horse I ever saw beiore. He's like a statue of a horse that sculptors think up all big curves and muscles that head " Thunderhead's face. eyes. head, these were, indeed, the outstanding things about uim. Such a face would "Rlsling!" Charlie laughed and looked at Thunderhead. tie, fastened on Ken. Ken stared back. Suddenly Thunderhead's teeth bared and reached for Ken's arm. Ken snatched it away and cuffed him. Thunderhead reared, came down prancing. Ken hauled on the reins and shouted at him. Charley stepped back quickly. "Nasty-tempered, eh?" "It isn't that. He doesn't like me." "Doesn't like you! Thats pretty tough, when he's yours and you have to train him." "I keep thinking maybe he'll get to like me. Mother's the only one he likes. He's never mean to her." "Let's look at the filly. Why did you bring her along?" asked Charley. Char-ley. "He's very fond of her. She's his little sister. She's kind of a mascot for him." "Oh, she's out of Flicka too?" "Yes. And they always stay together. to-gether. It kind of quiets him, if he should get excited, to have her around." "He gets excited, does he? And mean?" Ken was shocked. "Oh, never mean! But he bucks and fights. Sometimes he runs away with me." "But never mean!" laughed Sargent. Sar-gent. "I see. But can't you hold him in?" "He takes the bit He's better when Touch And Go's around. He's happier. You see he isn't a very happy horse most of the time. He's got something eating him, dad says." Sargent was studying the filly. "That's a nifty little filly." "She's exactly like Flicka was when she was a yearling. When I first got Flicka, she was just about that age and a bright golden sorrel like that, and the light mane and tail. "She's like her sire," said Sargent. Sar-gent. "She's by Banner, isn't she?" "Yes, and she's very light and fast." "You don't say." Sargent was not going to be enthusiastic about a colt of Banner's when one of Appalachian's Appa-lachian's was around. "Yes, she can go like the wind! But of course nobody has ever ridden rid-den her. She just runs along with Touch And Go left her grazing and cantered playfully beside her big brother, down to the end, around the curve, and back again. The white colt moved slowly and easily. After ten minutes or so, Sargent shouted to Ken, "Get him going now, son Let him out." Ken swung around to the starting line and flung the horse over it in a gallop. For a half-hour then, Ken struggled strug-gled to make the colt give a good account of himself. He had very little success. Thunderhead cut a corner once, Ken pulled him up, made him go back and outside the post. Suddenly the colt got ugly fought for the bit Ken spurred him and reined him back, then lifted him forward into a run. Touch And Go ran with him. By turns Howard and Charley Sargent Sar-gent held the stop watch. Finally they climbed down and Ken rode up to them. His face was flaming, his eyes wild, the horse nervous and pacing. "Can he run. Ken?" said Sargent. Sar-gent. "What have you been giving me?" "Oh, yes, he can if he wants!" answered Ken passionately. "I'm beginning to think he's too much horse for you," said Sargent. "You know." said Nell thoughtfully, thoughtful-ly, "he really can run. It's quite different from this hard galloping. It's a different gait. Do you remember re-member that black mare Rocket his grandmother?" "I sure do she was almost my mare," "Yes. That one. You remember the time we ran her in front of the automobile and clocked her and she just floated along without trying-no trying-no effort at all?" "I do. Never saw such a gait iD my life." "He's got the same gait. He does it sometimes. I wish you could see it. Ken. let's try again. I'll tie up Touch And Go. I think she distracts dis-tracts him." Nell got the tie-rope, snapped it to th? filly's halter and fastened her to the bumper of the automobile sc that Thunderhead could not see her. Once more they took their places on the ledge and Charley gave Ken the signal. (TO BE CONTINUED) |