Thomas C Hinkle

Tawny was an outlaw from the day he was born. With a price of $1000 on his golden hide, he was hunted more relentlessly than any timber wolf on the range. Running, dodging, hiding -- the handsome, crafty dog escaped the guns and lariats, the poison and traps set to ensnare him. But Tom Harper, the range boy, was Tawny's friend. Tom and Tawny loved and trusted each other, and though it nearly cost their lives, they finally proved to the cow country that Tawny was not a born killer, but a born gentleman.

He was beautiful to see, his matchless, pure white coat, his long silver mane and tail streaming in the wind, his proud head up, his great dark eyes shining. "Did you ever see a hoss run like that little silver feller?" exclaimed Charlie Barr. "Silver That'll be his name and I sure must hurry and get my brand on him before some other feller does." That, as you will find, was not so easy.

Cinchfoot and Blaze Face, under different names, are based on real characters. The remarkable friendship between them was a reality. Horsemen of the West, including Lloyd Hardin and John Campbell, have more than once told me of the two horses and their unusual friendship for each other. Nor was this the only incident in the West when a gelding befriended a small colt and a friendship sprang up between the two that lasted throughout life.When Cinchfoot was last heard of he was twenty-three years old, living on a ranch in Montana. It was said by those who saw him that he was in excellent health and as beautiful as ever. Old Blaze Face lived to be twenty-six years of age before he crossed the Great Divide.- T.C.H.

When only a little black puppy, Trueboy got lost and was forced to fend for himself in the dangerous, wolf- infested cattle country. He had only his fast-growing strength and his instinct for self-preservation to aid him in his struggle against starvation and his enemies. His great fight with the "Old Roarer" and his joyous reunion with his master make the climax to a gripping story in the tradition of Jack London's The Call of the Wild.

No one could ride Black Storm---no one but Joe Bain, the only cowboy the great horse trusted, Then one night the black gelding was stolen. He was beaten and starved, but his proud spirit remained unbroken. At last he escaped, to a desperate freedom haunted by man and wolf. And while Joe Bain searched the Kansas hills, a defiant Black Storm dodged bullets and timber wolves to find the only man he would serve,

Doctor Rabbit was right. Brushtail the Fox had seen exactly who was in Doctor Rabbit's front yard, but he did not act as if he knew there was any one within a mile of him. No, he just kept right on walking slowly under the trees. And then all of a sudden Chatty Red Squirrel almost made him look up. Chatty was high up in a big hackberry tree, and from this safe perch he scolded Brushtail as loudly as he could. "Get out of these woods " Chatty Squirrel shouted angrily. "You have no right in here. You are just sneaking around trying to catch somebody. But you can't. I won't let you. I'll tell on you. Look here, everybody. Here is old Brushtail the Fox. I know you, Mr. Brushtail. I've seen you before in the woods up along the Deep River. Look out, everybody Brushtail is around.