Deputy's words. No horse who had ever met Lonan considered him exactly . . .  sane. Lonan was an eccentric. He had his wild moments. He had been named Tshunke-Witke, 'crazy horse', by his old owners, the Lakota Indians.
     'You may think I'm going mad, Sir, but I'm dead certain that down in the valley I heard, and believe, I caught the scent of Toast.'

     'Toast?' Pantha cried.

     'Toast.' Lonan nodded exaggeratedly, bobbing his large head.

     'Ehem . . . Toast?' Lucius asked, with a polite cough. 'Sorry, I - '

     'Toast. Oatis and Maisy's colt. Roc's grandson's friend,' explained Pantha to the baffled Ninovan Herd leader. 'You've never met him. He was taken by wranglers a year or so back.'

     'I see...'

     'So you think you heard him?' Pantha asked Lonan.

     'First I heard him, then suddenly I thought I smelt him. And I smelt humans too, and another horse. Something else too. Cattle.' Lonan frowned. 'The mixture set me off, I'm afraid. Silly of me.'

     'No harm done,' chuckled Pantha. He looked up for the first time since he began talking to Lonan, and realized, not with surprise (he was old and experienced enough not to be surprised at much), that they were now surrounded by his five herd members; Archer - standing, sleeping, basking in the weak sunlight - and his mate Clovebreeze; a black stallion with a white mark on his forehead, called Condor - with the strange scruffy bird-shaped marking on his shoulder and ears that had seen better days - and his mate Lilacflower, who was a pale mare (of an apricot shade) with one white sock on her left foot; and a black overo pinto with a golden sun on her shoulder (painted on when she was very young), called Night Light, who was Lonan's mate.

     'Are we moving back to join the rest of the herd?' asked Lonan.

     'I think so,' replied Pantha. 'Archer, what's the pasture like here? Is it as bad here as it was below?'

     'No, it's not as bad, can't complain, son, can't complain,' said Archer, raising his head from his small ten minute slumber.
     'You never complain, deary,' Clovebreeze smiled in amusement at Archer and tidied up his long, worn forelock.
     'But it's not like where we used to stay for the summer,' went on Archer.' Which is a bit of a shame. But anyway, you know me: Mostly any grass is next to good grass. It doesn't matter what type it is.'
     'Hmm.' Pantha sniffed the air. He looked at Lucius. 'What do you think?'
     'I would say move to the valley, Pantha,' replied the Black-bay. 'But since there's the . . . ranch . . . No, we're better off here. It beats the dangers of our old haunts.' He gave a rueful grimace. 'I admit this place is better than where I set up my own herd.'

     'Where's that?'

     'On the other side of the Big House,' Lucius said, voice low and rueful.

     Pantha's ears went back, in understanding. 'Ah.'
     The Big Building was an old grey structure surrounded be rotting fencing, standing not very far to the north on a higher stretch of pastureland. Although it looked unused, even abandoned, there had been a few sightings of humans both in and around that homestead.
    'It was the first good grassland we came across since we moved to this area,' explained Lucius. 'We'll move as soon as my horses have rested a good bit.'
     'Come to the maple forest, there's more than plenty of room there,' said Pantha.
     'Thank you, we will - '
     'Hssh!' exclaimed Lonan suddenly, swinging his big body around to face the Fleewood. 'Listen!'

     Lucius and Pantha stiffened at his words. Intense, the three stallions strained their hearing, and concentrated, avidly questing for strange sights, sounds or scents.
     Then they came: voices. The voices of humans, and with it hoof-beats, and the strong smell of sweat.
     By all these signs, the wild horses could guess one thing: there were riders about to enter the valley.
     An unanimous thought struck them hard: a Roundup?
     Lonan began to shiver excitedly, grinding his teeth in anticipation; he glanced at his leader, waiting for an order.
     Pantha spoke slowly. 'Lonan, take Archer and the others straight to the Holz . . . '

Chapter II: Uncertain

The riders were entering the valley at breakneck speed, or very close to it. They were men from Mill Town, and they were after Indians.
     Paul Adams, son of Stg Adams, with a heavy rifle grasped in one hand, rode a black mare, urging her to speed up. Oh, but she just wasn't fast enough for him, even though the poor girl was galloping for all she was worth, foaming at the mouth and sweating like a train fireman.
     Dust billowed from under the horses of the riders, who had been willing to help ward off the Indians from the Buckbone pasture. The Indians were trouble; trouble for the town, the local Buckbone ranch, and most of all, Jenni and Ivy.
     Jenni and Ivy! Paul feared for his sisters' lives. Were they okay? He struck the black mare - lent to him by Mr McStanley the General Store manager - both across the rump and shoulder, making her draw up alongside Milo Mistrack, who was at the front of the band on his sturdy rose-grey mare. It was Milo who had ridden into Mill Town with news of the intruding Redskins.

     Milo, squint-eyed and brown-haired, looked up and around at Paul.

     'There's no sign of Indians,' shouted Paul.

     'No, there h'aint,' replied Milo in his throaty voice. 'They've probably got well away bah now.' He snapped his head away, slowing his horse - 'Who-a, Sandy, hold back a bit, girl,' - and beckoned to two riders further behind. The pair galloped up close, and Paul heard Milo telling them to run up the side of the valley, to the Fleewood, with some extra men.
     'Check if them Redskins are up on the flat, and we'll continue down the valley,' Milo said, and in less than a minute a group of twelve men had split from the main charge, careering away to the right and up the valley side.
     Thirteen riders progressed along the floor of Buckbone Valley, where the grass was high and green. Up ahead of them, the gorge curved to the left.

     Thirty seconds and they were very close to the bend.

     Paul screwed up his face, grimacing in worry and anticipation, willing that they would turn the bend quicker - soon -  now!

     And suddenly they were veering around it.

     Milo loosed hold of his reins, giving Sandy her head.

     Paul lifted his gun closer to his shoulder and kicked his beat mount.

     Everybody gritted their teeth and held their breath.

*

Pantha and Lucius crept through the Fleewood. They were both buzzing with anticipation, although Pantha, older and more experienced, seemed considerably less tense. He walked slower, while Lucius, not wanting to rush ahead, tripped along rather stiffly and was close to looking like he was executing the piaffe.
     Pantha, with head close to the ground, sniffed the air thoroughly.
As he and Lucius came to the edge of the woodland, they could clearly detect humans and their horses.

     'Run!' ordered Pantha.

     A volley of riders were storming up the valley side towards them.

     The two stallions bolted, Lucius taking off to the right to gallop along the edge of the Fleewood, westwards in the direction of Buckbone Ranch.
     He heard Pantha following him for a second or two. Then he glimpsed the pinto snap off to the right, into the forest.
     Lucius tore across the grass alone, ducking in and out of the forest as he galloped, nostrils flaring and eyes slits of determination. The riders, wranglers for sure, would be following him. If not him, Pantha. He ran and ran until the forest ran out, and, climbing onto a small grassy hillock, he slowed down. Then he stopped, and looked back.

     There were no riders in sight.

 *

On the shoulder of Lonan, Archer pushed his elderly body as quickly as he could down the steep hill called Flee Edge. It was a ridiculous way of reaching the Gold Holz forest, with a slope of nearly fifty metres to take on. But that was why Lonan had chosen it. There was only one safer way of getting to the lower ground; a groove down which the Dugg Creek ran; that was far away to the east. The riders would most likely choose it, and take a very long time getting there.

     With Archer's orders, Clovebreeze, although reluctant to leave her mate, had gone on