Maybe it all isn't so bad as we thought. Oh, I hope so!
. . . How is my horse, Wildfire? I want to ride him again. I can hardly keep
from going after him."
And so they whispered while the moments swiftly passed.
It was early during the afternoon of the next day that Slone, hearing the
clip-clop of unshod ponies, went outside to look. One part of the lane he
could see plainly, and into it stalked Joel Creech, leading the leanest and
gauntest ponies Slone had ever seen. A man as lean and gaunt as the ponies
stalked behind.
The sight shocked Slone. Joel Creech and his father! Slone had no proof,
because he had never seen the elder Creech, yet strangely he felt convinced of
it. And grim ideas began to flash into his mind. Creech would hear who was
accused of cutting the boat adrift. What would he say? If he believed, as all
the villagers believed, then Bostil's Ford would become an unhealthy place for
Lin Slone. Where were the great race-horses--Blue Roan and Peg--and the other
thoroughbreds? A pang shot through Slone.
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