The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1945-07-20
CHAPTER vi
They went down to dinner.

for 1t, but 1t was shock all the
same, and unpleasant feelings went
through him. He couldn't find words.
His mind was in a fog.
"The sire!" exclaimed Harris,
astonished, "Why, what's this? !
thought Banner was the sire Of all
your foals."
mot that one," grinned Rob.
"Your mare is perfectly safe, Mort.
You'll have fine little sorrel colt
dead ringer for Banner-when she
foals next summer. told you, Ban
ner breeds true. Sorrels. Like as
peas in a pod"
"Hah!" exclaimed Charley.
"You're crawling. Just because
you've got throwback, you're go
ing to disown it! Didn't think it Of
you, Rob!"
"Come on, Ken," said Rob, "who
is the sire of that little goblin up
there?"
Ken, without turning around,
jerked his head and elbow in the
direction of Charley Sargent. "That
big black stud of his!"
"Whose?"
"Mr. Sargent's."
''Ouch!" shouted Sargent. Then,
"Do you let him tell whoppers like
that, Rob? Or is he given to pipe
dreams?"
Rob was as astonished as anyone.
Appalachian, Ken?"
eyes, SIR"
"Why, he doesn't even know Ap-
palachian," shouted Sargent. "Ken
did you ever see him? He's never
been off my ranch, and that's
twenty miles away"
''Ken answered, "He's that big
black stallion with three white socks
and white star between his eyes.
He hangs out in that little draw by
the quakin'-asp and the box elder
where the fence crosses your line.
Twenty miles away by the high
way, but about eight miles Of
straight riding across country. Only
one gate to 60 through, and your
buck fence to take down."
There was a shocked silence.
Then, as Ken's words sank home,
Charley Sargent jumped to his feet.
His long brown face was serious
for once, his big hat little awry, a
frown between his brows.
81 don't believe it! It couldn't bel
Why-that little misbegotten pup up
there-son of Appalachian" In two
strides he reached Ken. seized him
by the shoulder and yanked him up.
"Stand up here" He set the boy
on the low wooden table facing them
all.
Ken's face was little pale, but
his dark blue eyes looked at his
father without fiinching.
"Come on, Ken," said Rob, 'let's
have the story. I'll begin it for you.
A year ago last spring we decided
Flicka should be bred"
"No, sir, it was the fall before
that. About Thanksgiving time. You
and mother said we'd breed Flicka
as soon as she was old enough and
get foal."
'"That's right. I remember now.
You and Howard were home from
school for the Thanksgiving week.
end"
eyes. And when we went back to
school, all winter long I was think
ing about that. And when I came
home for the spring vacation at Eas-
ter, you remember you let me start
working with Ficka and riding her
a little, because she was just exact
ly two years old and strong and
well-grown. And you said / was
light enough so it wouldn't hurt her
back any. And worked her out with
the blanket and surcingle and began
to ride her. And during that vaca-
ton do you remember the time YOU
took me in to town with you and
we met Mr.. Sargent and had dinner
with him at the Mountain Hotel?
And he was talking about his stud,
about Appalachian. And bra-well.
praising all the colts he had had
from him"
Ken paused, looking interrogative-
" at his father, and Rob grinned.
eyes. ! remember. He praised 'em.
It's a habit he's got"
Harris laughed and Sargent's
hand pinched Ken's shoulder a little
harder and he said, Get on with
your story, young man."
"Wel. so you see-when I went
back to school after that Easter
vacation was thinking about APP
palachian."
Rob groaned. Sand when Ken be-
gins to think about something,
don't mind telling you, it's single
track mind
$780," said Ken doggedly, when
! got home in June that's what
was thinking about. rode over sew
eral times on Cigarette to look at
Appalachian"