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Bel bel had chose the birth-place of her foal wisely. He was on Springy snow grass under a great over-hang of granite that sheltered him from the driving rain. There he lay, only a pale bundle in the black dark, while Bel Bel licked him clean and nuzzled him. The wind roared above in the Ramshed Range, where the snow still lay, but there was no single sound of animal or bird except the mournful howl of a Dingo once, twice it rang out and its echo answered weird and wild. It was on that night she named him 'Thowra' for that means wild wind of which he was born. As he grew, Thowra became faster and faster, and true to his name, he could travel like the wind. Yet, for his creamy coat and silver mane and tail men hunted him, and wherever he went, men would try and capture him. Thowra loved to lead the man a dance through the wild, high country, then would just vanish, leaving the men who chased him perplexed and and angry, determined to catch him. But ever did the mysterious silver stallion elude his would-be captors, and would appear as a mocking ghost upon a rocky outcrop, his cry ringing throughout the southern mountains, mocking the man with his derisive call, daring them to try and catch him. Thowra, the wind, was too cunning for the men, and, determined to catch him, one man prepared a large brumby drive, to catch him once and for all. The men chased him, on and on, until, at the very edge of a steep ravine, Thowra leapt over the edge, and the men, saddened that they had chased such a beautiful animal over such a cliff, left with leaden hearts. There grew around the campfires stories of a great silver stallion, seen galloping over the wind-packed snow way up on the Ramshead Range; of a ghost horse that drank at the crackenback river; of a horse that all men thought was dead appearing in a blizzard at dead horse hut and vanishing again; of the wild stallion cry that could only be Thowra's. But no man knew where the son of Bel Bel roamed.. |