Smoky squealed and kicked some more, then he whirled and faced the stud figgering on doing some damage with teeth and front hoofs. Just about then the stud whirled too and planted his two hind hoofs smack bang into Smoky's ribs. There was an echo which sounded like a steam engine ramming into a stone wall, that echo was followed with a mighty grunt as Smoky was lifted off his feet and throwed out a ways to a staggering standstill. Smoky was in a daze, his vision was dim, and maybe it was all instinct that warned him of the dark cloud that's turned and was now a tearing down on him, anyway something made him move in a hurry, all the strength that was left in him was used to make distance away from the black devil which now looked to Smoky like a big centipede, it had so many legs. His life depended in the speed he could make, and Smoky was running, running like he'd never run before, it seemed like there was no shaking the mad stud, and just when he was on the point of giving in and make a last stand for his life that destroying hunk of horseflesh left him--When Smoky stopped, looked back and seen the stud high-tail it back to the mares he had no hankering to follow, he was convinced. * * * * * The next few days that followed was mighty aimless to Smoky, him and the big buckskin had formed a pardnership in that time and the two wandered around like they was lost and didn't care where they went. They covered a lot of territory, passed up a lot of good grassy hollows and shady places but they kept a drifting on. They grazed as they drifted and natural like followed up the canyons and crossed over the high passes that'd been the summer range of Smoky's mammy and the bunch. They came acrost other little bunches, but it seemed like in each of 'em there was a wild-eyed thick-jawed stud come out ready to kick the daylight out of 'em if any symptoms of them wanting to trail in with the bunch was showed. In their roaming around they passed other geldings which like themselves had been kicked out of the stud bunches; the meeting with them was just plain "how-dedo's" and each and all passed on and headed their own wandering way.--All would be hunkydory again for the buckskin if he could find another bunch to run with where there was mares and little colts. He had a mighty strong failing for the little fellers and most any bunch would do if there was only a few of them in, but with Smoky, it was his mammy he missed most, his brother, and the other colts he'd growed up with. No other bunch would do as well, and the nicker he'd send echoing acrost canyons and over ridges every once in a while was just for them certain few.