Stone Fox Read Free

Willy to go to college and become educated. All little Willy wanted to do was grow potatoes, but he respected his grandfather enough to do whatever he said.
    If there were no errands to run that day, Searchlight would just pull little Willy up and down Main Street. Little Willy loved to look atall the people, especially the “city slickers,” as Grandfather called them. Why, they didn’t know a potato from a peanut, Grandfather said, and their hands were as pink and soft as a baby’s. You couldn’t miss the city slickers. They were the ones who looked as if they were going to a wedding.
    At a little before six each day, little Willy would position his sled in front of the old church on Main Street. Today again he waited, eyes glued on the big church clock that loomed high overhead.
    Searchlight waited too—ears perked up, eyes alert, legs slightly bent, ready to spring forward.
    B-O-N-G!
    At the first stroke of six, Searchlight lunged forward with such force that little Willy was almost thrown from the sled. Straight down Main Street they went, the sled’s runners barely touching the snow. They were one big blur asthey turned right onto North Road. And they were almost out of town before the church clock became silent again.

    “Go, Searchlight! Go!” Little Willy’s voice sang out across the snowy twilight. And did Searchlight go! She had run this race a hundred times before, and she knew the whereabouts of every fallen tree and hidden gully. This enabled her to travel at tremendous speed even though it was getting dark and more dangerous.
    Little Willy sucked in the cool night air and felt the sting of the wind against his face. It was a race all right. A race against time. A race against themselves. A race they always won.
    The small building up ahead was Grandfather’s farmhouse. When Searchlight saw it, she seemed to gather up every ounce of her remaining strength. She forged ahead with such speed that the sled seemed to lift up off the ground and fly.
    They were so exhausted when they arrived atthe house that neither of them noticed the horse tied up outside.
    Little Willy unhitched Searchlight, and then both of them tumbled over onto their backs in the snow and stared up at the moon. Searchlight had her head and one paw on little Willy’s chest and was licking the underside of his chin. Little Willy had a hold of Searchlight’s ear, and he was grinning.
    The owner of the horse stood on the front porch and watched them, tapping his foot impatiently.

4
THE REASON
    “G ET OVER HERE !” The voice cut through the air like the twang of a ricocheting bullet.
    Little Willy had never heard a voice like that before. Not on this farm. He couldn’t move.
    But Searchlight sure could.
    The owner of the voice barely had time to step back into the house and close the door.
    Searchlight barked and snarled and jumped at the closed door. Then the door opened a crack. The man stood in the opening. He was holding a small derringer and pointing it at Searchlight. His hand was shaking.
    “Don’t shoot!” little Willy yelled as he reachedout and touched Searchlight gently on the back. The barking stopped. “Who are you?”
    “Name’s Clifford Snyder. State of Wyoming,” the man said with authority. He opened the door a little farther.
    The man was dressed as if he was going to a wedding. A city slicker. He was short, with a small head and a thin, droopy mustache that reminded little Willy of the last time he’d drunk a glass of milk in a hurry.
    “What do you want?” little Willy asked.
    “ Official business. Can’t the old man inside talk?”
    “Not regular talk. We have a code. I can show you.”
    As little Willy reached for the door, Clifford Snyder again aimed his gun at Searchlight, who had begun to growl. “Leave that… thing outside,” he demanded.
    “She’ll be all right if you put your gun away.”

    “No!”
    “Are you afraid of her?”
    “I’m not…afraid.”
    “Dogs can always tell when