Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1945-12-07
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NARY OHARA
w.A.U. FEATuRES'~S

his picket rope and stood there paw
ing impatiently, nickering again and
again.
Flicka woke up and was also
seized by the excitement Of meeting
strangers. Thunderhead ran around
the circle allowed him by his picket
rope. He backed away, lowered his
head and gave it a few shakes, pull
ing at the rope. But his training
had been thorough. It was now al
most a physical impossibility for
him to fight head rope. He
plunged bit, and then reared up,
paving 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 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 of
toward the mares, leaving Flicka
impatient and unhappy, nickering
lonesomely, but too docile to at
tempt escape.
Ken had been dreaming all night
of the playful nickering Of horses.
He dreamed he was riding Thunder
head on the range in a band OF
yearlings, but why did they keep
nickering so? What was attracting
their attention? There came an I'M
easiness into the dream. The nick
ering persisted but, as if attempting
to present a plausible explanation,
the dream changed rapidly. Now
he was riding Flicka in the brood
mare bunch. And now he was rid
ing in the corrals on the day of the
weaving, for that was surely the
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 and the hair
out of his eyes, and then he realized
that off near the rampant was
group of mares and colts with a
white horse among them, and that
the nickering came from them.
1t was just what he had seen on
his former visit to the valley except
that this was only small number
Of mares; and the Albino, for some
reason or other, was not behaving
like a sensible stallion but was rear
ing, squealing, whirling around to
face first this one then the other,
in fact was a living coil Of move
ment and excitement.
But there was nickering closer at
hand too, and suddenly Ken became
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. 1t
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 paved the
ground, and it was her nickering
that had aroused him.
In daze, Ken picked up the 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 Thun-
derhead over there with the mares
then, not the Albino! No wonder
he had behaved peculiarly. Thun-
derhead with mares at last!
Ken's mind began to labor. He
must be got away from them i'm
mediately! The Albino might come
out through the pass, looking for
those mares. And suddenly near
panic seized Ken. The race so near!
And the least injury to Thunderhead
at this late date might make it inn
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 Thun-
derhead softly and held out the nose
bag and shook it. The oats made
a rustling sound. That was enough,
as 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 the mares-plunging at them
turning, lodging, shaking 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 60
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
rampant.
Ken stood still, appalled, by the