Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1946-01-11

SAteo ITO liiliu ieSS.
Bravura and Staghorn rushed
past, beginning the second lap of the
race.
whip him, Dickson! Beat hell
out of him!" Ken's voice, cracking
with strain, reached Dickson from
the crowd. Dickson cast one hope
less glance toward Ken as Thunder
head whirled and plunged, and a
wave of the Jockeys empty right
hand showed that he had lost his
whip.
Ken's open mouth closed without
another sound and his face paled.
Dickson pulled off his cap and beat
it from side to side on Thunder
heads neck. Other horses passed
him, streaming along the rail. Sud-
denly Thunderhead plunged forward,
and again Ken was weak with relief.
He unclenched his fingers slowly.
Little bleeding scars were in the
palms of his hands. It was all right
northumberland had passed them
once, he could do it again.
But Thunderhead had no intention
OF doing it. All he wanted, appar-
emily, was good spot in which to
show everyone what he was going
to do to this rider whom he didn't
want on his back. Angling across
the empty track, he floated over the
inner rail, galloped to the center,
leaped into the air, corkscrewing,
came down with feet like four steel
pistons-rocked a couple of times,
and had no need to do more. For
Dickson was making one of those
slow curves through the air that Ken
had made, times without number.
Free of his rider, Thunderhead de-
cided to join in the race. He fioated
over the rail again-and the beau
tiful easy leap drew a gasp from the
grandstand-and then he started to
overtake the field. Again it grew
like an orchestral crescendo-the
roar of the grandstand-until the
white horse closed the distance be-
tween himself and the rest Of the
field.
Thunderhead did not know when
to stop. He floated on when the
race was over and the winner pro-
claimed and the other horses were
walking back into the paddock. At
tendants ran out on the track and
tried to stop him. That angered
him. He lodged them, sailed over
the outer rail and away into the dis
lance, the little stirrups dangling
and tapping at his sides.
When Thunderhead vanished be-
yond the grove of willows south of
the race track, Ken fought through
the crowd behind him, under the
grandstand out at the back and
around the west end of the track.
He ran as fast as he could, keeping
his eye on that little dip in the will
lows through which Thunderhead
had disappeared.
Half mile away the white stall
lion stood quietly. When Ken whis-
tied for him, he turned his head,
then trotted toward his young mas
ter.
AS he came up, Ken looked at him
bitterly. "You fool! You've thrown
away the only chance you had in
the world"
Thunderhead stopped, recognizing
something other than approval in
Ken's voice.
"You could have done it! Easy
as pie! And now you've spoiled ev-
erything!" There was tremor in
Ken's voice as he finished, and he
said nothing more, but mounted the
horse and rode him slowly back,
circling the track to reach the sta
bles.
AS he did so, he heard by the roar
from the grandstand that another
race was in progress, and drew rein
on a little elevation and turned in
the saddle just in time to see the
horses flash over the finish line-a
bright golden sorrel with blond tail
a good length in the lead.
Touch and Go! He had entirely
forgotten that she was running! And
now she had won! A flood of joy al
ternated with the feeling that it could
not possibly be true.
Ken galloped Thunderhead to the
stables, not dismounting to open
gates, but jumping every one. He
put the stallion in his stall, called
to one of the stable boys to attend
to him, and ran back to the race
track.
He was in time to hear the an
nouncement over the loud-speaker.
"Winner, Touch and Go, of the
Goose Bar stables. Owner, Kenneth
Mclaughlin"
Ken stood still a moment. This
was what victory felt like-Then he
dashed forward. He wanted to get
his hands on Touch and Go and see
if she was really still herself.
Perry Gunston had her in the pad
dock. A blanket had been thrown
over her, and around her was a
crowd of men. Rob Mclaughlin was
talking to old Mr.. Greenway, and
he called Ken to him and said, II
want you to meet Mr.. Greenway.
This is my son, Mr.. Greenway, the
owner and trainer of the filly."
As Ken put out his hand he heard
an eager little whinny behind him.
Mr.. Greenway exclaimed, "You
don't cavi Won don't saw And