The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1945-07-13

little back so short that all four
legs seem to be in a close group
/ underneath it-and the neck con-
tinues the perpendicular line, car
ried straight up to a small inquir-
ing head like a sea-horse's. But this
foal was built on the horizontal like
full-grown horse. It had repel-
lent look of precociousness and ma
turity, with its heavy neck and the
big knobby head on the end Of 1t,
the large mouth with thick rather
loose black lips, the short, uneven
legs
"Why," she exclaimed in q
shocked voice, ''it's a goblinl"
The blood rushed to Ken's head
and made him dizzy. He went to
the corral fence and took hold Of
the rails to steady himself.
No one spoke for a moment.
Goblin. She had named it.
Goblin" shouted Howard, "Gob-
lin, Goblin, Goblin!"
But Ken was not licked yet. He
turned to his mother. He would pre-
tend it was just a word. He would
pretend that she hadn't named it.
Mother, would you think Of a
name for him?" he pleaded, "some-
thing about his being white-and-
and-about his going to be won
derful race horse"
Grace horse!" The exclamation
was chorus.
Suddenly Ken's face famed. He
looked at his father. "You said
there might be one gentle one in
the lot and you'd have a race horsei
And Flicka did get gentle. I gentled
her. AS gentle as kitten. You said
that too. And then, because of her
bad leg, she couldn't be race
horse and it had to be her colt in
stead of her. And here he is. And
he's a horse colt. And he's big and
strong. And he's got her blood and
her speed. And the speed and spirit
Of all the Albino's colts. And his
mother will teach him manners be-
cause she is gentle so he can be
schooled and trained for race
horse-he won't be hard to handle
even if he has got a white coat
from the A1bino!"
1.-THE Albino was his great grand
SIRE" explained Nell to Sargent.
"And Banners his sire," drawled
Sargent. "Now what about all Rob's
theories of line breedin'? He bred
Flicka back to her own sire, and
look what he got!"
But Rob was looking at his small
son standing there red in the face
and with fire in his eye, fighting for
his foal! And the anger went out
of his heart and silent cheer was
there instead. Good for you, son!
"Name him, Mother" insisted
Ken desperately. "Give him name
that will be right for a big winner
of races. And something about his
being white"
"Cottage cheese!" yelled Howard
derisively, and then, mincing about
delicately, cor Cream Puff"
"Pearl of the Harem," joshed Sar-
gent.
"Mooley Govt" exclaimed How
ard and cantered awkwardly
across the corral.
Somebody stop that guy or he'll
90 on forever" said Rob, making
a pass at Howard.
Howard ducked but fell into the
arms of Sargent who grabbed him
and clapped his hand over his
mouth.
Nell had not spoken. Ken watched
her. Mother" he urged her, Ego
on, mother"
Sargent let got Of Howard who,
casting a glance at his father, de-
cided he had gone far enough.
There was an ache in Nell's heart.
She looked at the foal-that stub
bornness, the mulish head, that
stupidity, trying to nurse on every
horse in sight, not knowing his own
mother; and its anger-it ran across
the corral head down, kicking out
with one hind leg-it seemed full Of
hatred.
"Mother!" insisted Ken.
In despair Nell raised her eyes
and saw, up behind the line OF the
green hill, a great thunderhead
pushing up into the dark blue of the
sky. It was so dazzling white it
half blinded her.
"There," she said calmly, "see
that? A thunderhead. And it's pure
white. Wen call him Thunderhead,
Remand that's fine enough name
for any race horse"
No one spoke. The silence was
like a cool shadow on hot, dusty
day.
Ken stood quiet, feeling weak
the name was so beautiful. Thun-
derhead. He looked at the great
cloud, and turned away so that the
others could not see his face.
Thunderhead. That would carry the
colt to glory. With that name what
horse could fail?
The colt, still making little rushes
about the corral, kicking and bleat-
ing, came up against the group Of
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