they were creatures of
habit, never ranging far from some one hole they had made their own.
Trinfan blankets already flapped about the Pinto's chosen spring. They had
seen the horses approach several times in the past two days and shy away
from those flapping things with the fearsome man scent.

"As long as La Bruja is with them," Faquita said, coming up beside Drew,
"they will not come."

"La Bruja?"

"The Witch, as Anglos would say. We call her so because of her cunning.
She is the wise one who keeps lookout. I say she is possessed by the Evil
One. It is possible the Pinto is her son. Together they have always
outwitted the hunters. But La Bruja is old--she runs more stiffly. Last
time in the chase she began to drop behind. She is of no use, only a
nuisance. It is the White One I wish to drop rope over!"

"The White One?"

"_Si._ She is Nieve--the snow of the upper mountains. Among our people you
will hear many tales of white ones, without a dark spot on them--the Ghost
Stallions that run the plains and no man may lay rope over. But this mare
is the truth! And someday--" Her eyes shone and she seemed to be making
some vow Drew would be called to bear witness to. "Someday she will be
mine! Not to trail south and sell--no--but to keep, always!"

"She must be very beautiful," he commented.

"It is not only that, _senor_. You have a fine horse, one which beat _Don_
Cazar's Oro, is that not so?"

"Yes. Shiloh ..."

"And to you that one is above all other horses. If you lost him, you would
be--like hungry ... inside you, is that not also so?"

"Yes!" Her earnestness triggered that instant response from him.

"So it is with me since I have seen Nieve. Men find such a horse; for
years they follow the band in which it runs to snare it. They will suffer
broken bones, as did my father, and hunger, and thirst, because there is
one tossing head, one set of flying heels before them. Sometimes they are
lucky and they catch that one. If they do not, there is in them a pinch of
winter even when the desert sun is hot. Once I loved all horses--now there
is this one which I must have!"

"I hope you get her!"

"_Senor_, last season I hoped. This season--this season I have belief that
my hopes will come true. Ah, look, the Indio!"

She pointed with quirt and Drew glanced left. He saw what appeared to be
an outcrop of rock among many others move, then rise on sturdy legs to
meet them.

Running Fox, a brown blanket twiste