As dusk came, the hunting grew even more fast and furious. The little boy pup went further away, hunting, and after one long foray, when Miss Dingo grew anxious and called him, he returned with a rabbit which he proudly gave to his mother.
At daybreak Socks woke and stirred his family. It was time to set forth to the Ramsheads. So the cavalcade left their cave and headed up through the last of the snow gums, disturbing the red-tipped pardalote that lived on the little rock knoll with its four snow gums.
When they reached the tor of the South Ramshead they peered over, but Socks was set on reaching all the rock tors up above, and the little peaty pools, remembering once, long ago, seeing a blue yabby’s claw in a pool. Perhaps he might catch a live yabby to give to Miss Dingo. Socks was very happy. He wasn’t a hunter but he might just catch a broad-toothed rat and give it to Lightning.
Not long after dawn they were up on that high land between all the rock tors, and the first thing Socks saw was a blue claw in one pool. Maybe the rest of his wishes might come true.
He kept looking for a good place to camp and he knew Lightning was looking for one, too. It was while they were looking into a large place under piled-up rocks that Socks saw a rat preening its whiskers, and without thinking, he reared up and brought his forefeet down whack! on the rat. Then he grabbed it and offered it to Lightning. Lightning fairly danced with pleasure and excitement. He patted Socks’ nose then took almost all of the big fat rat to Miss Dingo and her pups.
It was soon after that that the live blue yabby appeared, but it was Lightning who caught the yabby, and, realising that Socks might not like to eat it, went and picked three snow daisies and took them to Socks.
As Socks was eating the snow daisies he was studying the northern sky. A huge black cloud was gathering, looking as if it promised snow.
Snow in summer! It could happen, and that big flight of black cockatoos going down into the Crackenback Valley might have meant something. He chewed happily on the snow daisies and watched Lightning galloping about. Once, Lightning stopped in mid-stride, and stood staring towards the storm cloud that was gradually spreading all over the blue sky. He noticed that Socks was hyped-up by the coming storm, noticed him shy as if something had passed by very close. It was as though a ghost had passed by. Did a silver horse gallop towards the west?
Lightning came racing back to him, as though disturbed by something. Socks rubbed his head on his back and felt the dog quieten down. The dingo family were rolling in the heath and in the peat bogs but they, too, seemed disturbed, stopping their play often to look towards the dark cloud, or to look towards Socks as though for reassurance.
It was rain to start with, and then a cloud of snow seemed to rush towards them. It was evening by then, and out of the dark west came this smothering white cloud. Socks and Lightning knew what it was, but the dingo family were puzzled and gladly followed Socks and Lightning into the shelter of the rock.
Before long, however, snow began to lie on the ground. Lightning called the dingo family out and soon they were all rolling in the soft white magic, grabbing big mouthfuls of it, and wondering why it vanished.
It became the most marvellous stuff in which to play. The dingoes rolled and jumped around and kicked up the fluffy snow. Lightning joined in the fun, rolling the puppies in the deepening snow. Socks watched from the shelter of the rocks.
It was a queer storm because it had been snowing for quite a while, but thunder rolled and rumbled.
The old bushies always said, ‘Thunder in winter means snow’, but here was the snow in summer followed by thunder. Now there was going to be lightning flashing around the granite tors. Lightning knew it was coming, so he called all his dingo family into quite a large rocky cavern where there was room for Socks, too. By that time Lightning needed comforting. He saw Socks lie down and gathered his little Miss and her pups together to lie against Socks. He whimpered slightly, but there was Socks’ dear face right beside his head.
Socks looked out once and saw forked lightning above one rocky tor, then he went back to his family, particularly to comfort his dog.
When the fiercest of the lightning had died down, Socks went to the opening of their rock hollow to look out. Snow was still falling. It was midsummer and cold, so cold. Lightning suddenly split the sky over one of the rock tors and the snow still fell through the blinding flash. A sudden gust of air spiralled the snow upwards in the light.
The dogs had all come to stand beside him, and Lightning crouched between Socks’ forefeet. Socks put his nose down to the quivering nose and tongue that came up to meet him, and then Miss Dingo led the way inside again for them all to lie down in a huddled heap till the storm was silenced.
Both Socks and Lightning were glad to be inside all curled up together, because, somehow, there were other spirits abroad in the thunder, lightning and snow.
A silver stallion in a willy-willy of snow, a silver horse simply galloping through the country which was his forever.
Five
The snow on the ground kept bushwalkers away for a while. The rocks were slippery, and it was very easy to go into a snow-covered hole, but it was lovely snow in which dingoes and a dog like Lightning could play. Even Socks rolled in the snow with his family, and there was no one to see — except one walker who had scrambled up the slippery rocks of a tor to see the snow-covered Range at midsummer. He saw the astonishing sight of a black brumby with four white socks, a part-kelpie dog, and three part-dingoes, all scampering and rolling in the snow together.
That bushwalker mentioned it down in Jindabyne, and three stockmen listened to the tale because of the weird combination of animals, and one of them had heard the tale of the stampede of brumbies and stockhorses down the Leatherbarrel Spur, so he said, ‘Come on, let’s put our horses in my truck and then ride up Merritt’s Spur and see for ourselves.’
Socks and Lightning had both seen the bushwalker and both wondered about him. They all curled up under and between the sheltering rocky cavern that night, but Socks was anxious, and he stirred very early in the morning, waking the rest of the family and leading them off towards the North Ramshead, knowing that they had a line of escape from there.
The stockmen had driven their horses up in the truck the evening before and started up Merritt’s Spur that night, camping on the treeline, and leaving at first light. Luckily for Socks and his family, one of the stockhorses neighed as they disturbed sleeping black cockatoos, so they were warned.
Socks immediately thought of the cave on the Leatherbarrel Spur as a hiding place, but they would have to cross over some wide, open country before they could drop over the edge into the Leatherbarrel and then go down the open grass spur, in full view of any hunters.
In full view of what? Who?
Socks tried to lead his family along a half-hidden trail over the open top country, dodging round rocks and built-up tors, trying not to leave tracks on peat bogs.
The black cockatoos circled around, screaming, and disturbed a pair of nankeen kestrels. A hare sprang up and ran for its life, but Lightning had too much else on his mind. He had seen, and heard, behind them, the crashing of stockhorses, and the shouting men. All he could think of was his beloved Socks being caught, or Miss Dingo.
He had to save them, all of them.
If only he could draw attention to himself at the moment Socks turned down the spur. He gauged the lie of the land quickly. There was a large tor ahead, well before the place where the spur turned down. He hid in those rocks and then rushed out at the stockmen’s horses, desperately hoping that it would give time for Socks and the dingoes to vanish.
He sprang, snarling, from among the rocks. The stockhorses all shied. One stopped dead and then spun around, bucking.
Lightning got the one chance he needed to spring at the horse’s nose, and sent it bolting away. Then he turned to attack the other two with wild barks.
Luckily, Socks saw Miss Dingo and her pups into the cave, and came leaping back to Lightning.
Socks had never been a fighter, but now, now, he had to save Lightning and he went at the two men and their horses as though he were crazy.
Every strike with a front hoof, every bite, found its mark.
The noise was tremendous; Socks’ screams and Lightning’s fearsome barks.
The first horse neighed from a long way off and the other two turned and bolted in the direction of the neigh.
Socks and Lightning stood watching them go. After licking a few wounds they went down to find the dingo family. Dog and horse were exhausted, but overjoyed to find the dingo family curled up safely in their cave.
Lightning lay down to rest with the dingoes, and his head on Socks’ legs, but neither he nor Socks were entirely certain about their victory being one that would last. For some reason Socks kept thinking about that willy-willy of snow that he was sure was really a silver horse, or that horse’s ghost. Surely that silver horse had some hiding place far away on the other side of the Crackenback River.
He knew of Baringa’s Secret Valley, but he didn’t want to try and hide there because of the brumby-hunting men who came from the south. He must lead his family across the head of the Crackenback and go over Paddy Rush’s Bogong. It might be rough country for the dingo pups, but they would try it.
The dingoes were howling again that night, and everyone in the cave was very restless.
At some time in the night the little pups vanished.
Echoing off the Ramshead Rocks came a thrilling dingo howl, undoubtedly the howl that had called the pups, but it also had a slightly menacing note to it, and poor Miss Dingo was upset and worried. Lightning was furious. He knew that Miss Dingo thought the dog with that howl was bad.
Socks went with them as they set off to find the pups. Miss Dingo was as desperately anxious as any mother whose daughter has been stolen by an undesirable suitor, but doubly worried in case some harm should come to her.
Lightning was worried in case there might be several dingoes, more than he could cope with on his own. Then, all of a sudden, with a gentle, snuffling touch from Socks’ nose, he felt full of confidence — sure of himself, sure of his own abilities, and certain that Socks would support him. Gleefully he danced along, thinking of all the times he and Socks had made brumbies and stockhorses stampede.
It had been such fun. Now he was going to do battle for Miss Dingo and their lost pups! He thought of that horrible big dingo he and Socks had killed when it came into the cave for Miss Dingo’s girl pup, and he jumped up happily to Socks.
On they went, through the night, following the dingo howls. They were going faster and faster and did not really seem to be getting nearer to the howls. Suddenly they heard a pup’s call, sounding rather lost and closer to them than the dogs’ howls.
Socks began to gallop, Lightning close beside, and Miss Dingo tore along, too.
Lightning was happy — he was going to save the pups for his darling Miss Dingo.
Then they found one little pup, crying, alone. Miss Dingo lay down beside her, licking her, comforting her, but Lightning, after a preliminary lick, took heed of the wild ‘come hither’ calls of the dingo who had spurned her. Lightning and Socks went tearing on till the ‘come hither’ calls were closer.
They passed a couple of dingo bitches along the way; they were obviously following the dingo’s call. Socks picked one up and shook it before dropping it, as though to say, ‘That’ll teach you!’, but he was saving his anger for the mad dog who had lured the young pup and then, when she showed fight, had left her.
Socks and Lightning both felt she was a dear little girl dog, and were determined to teach the dingo seducer some manners.
The howl rang out fairly close. Miss Dingo felt her daughter cringe with fear.
Six
Socks and Lightning both saw the silhouette of the dingo against the starlit sky, and both bounded forward, each stride taking them closer to that savage dog. There was something sinister about that dingo — sinister and cruel.
Socks got there first, and sent the dingo flying with one blow from a foreleg, and Lightning was there to catch the dingo as it flew through the air.
Snap! went Lightning’s powerful jaw. Then he shook it. Then he dropped it for a moment. It lay there without showing fight. One of its ears was torn and bleeding, and Lightning recognised the pup’s teeth marks. He figured out that the little girl pup had shown fight instead of loving compliance, and had been left behind because of her self-protective ability. Lightning felt proud; she was his daughter, as well as his darling Miss Dingo’s. She belonged to his and Socks’ family! And there was Socks beside him, standing over the cowardly dingo.
Socks wrinkled up his nose in true stallion manner, and arched his neck threateningly. Then he had an idea! He picked up the dingo by the scruff of the neck and proceeded to carry it back to where Miss Dingo was comforting her pup. The pup was really unharmed and got to her feet when Socks arrived with his chastened burden, and Lightning proceeded to give the cowardly dog a good thrashing.
Then the family turned for home. They met the male pup on the way, gathered him into the family group, and followed Socks to the Crackenback River to find something over the river and far away.
Ahead, through the night, flew a white bird as though leading them, occasionally calling like a bronze cuckoo, so Lightning was happy and Socks felt as though the Silver Stallion were, indeed, leading them on.
Instead of going into the dense scrub on Paddy Rush’s Bogong, they crossed the river higher up and edged around the more open slopes of the Brindle Bull, and just kept on travelling through the night, finally climbing up the back of Paddy Rush’s Bogong where Socks knew there was a basin of snowgrass.
Socks felt sudden security. Surely no brumby hunters would come from the south as far as this!
They still had to find a hiding place. He could see some rocks up the back of Paddy Rush’s Bogong. A place in which it would be possible to hide his family might be up there.
Socks went searching, but not before he had a good roll in the snowgrass basin, and as he rolled, he dreamt of finding something that was secret and deeply loved, that had a whole history of love, so that it would be happiness to be there. Somewhere where there would never be any brumby hunters, or mad dingoes. In his mind he floated there, in the whirling white spiral of snow. That silver horse had a hidden place. If he, Socks, ever found it, would he and his family be really welcome? Lightning, and dear Miss Dingo, and her two pups. Socks got up and shook himself. There was Lightning, Miss Dingo, and her pups — all so beautiful. He wished he could gather them together in their hollow candlebark by the Ingegoodbee.
But there was the white bird, leading them on.
The hill that rose from one half-circle surrounding the snowgrass basin had been in the path of a windstorm for there was a tangle of fallen snow gums and branches all over the top of it. The white hawk seemed to be hovering over it. Socks decided to go and investigate, so he cantered across and trotted up to the first barrier of broken trees and limbs. It was possible to jump and thread his way through, and then a track appeared to lead out to the other side of Paddy Rush’s Bogong — a well-used brumby track — but it did not carry on through; there had been no evidence of it on the other side of the snowgrass basin. Socks was puzzled — somewhere the track must go round.
The white hawk flew to one side, and Socks followed. There was a track that went round the hollow. He could see Lightning and the dingo family through the trees, and he suddenly wanted to join them more than to go on. He forgot the white hawk and raced out to join his family.
But the white hawk hung in the sky above and when the family were all together, it flew a couple of circles and then headed south.
Socks and the family followed. It was beginning to get dark and they seemed to go for a long time through fairly open forest. Quite suddenly it was dark, and they were on the brink of a drop into the darkness. There was the white hawk hanging in the night, over a deep, dark drop.
/> How should they get down if that was where the white hawk was leading them?
The faintest track led along the edge of the drop; Lightning found that faint track and led on. Far below they heard a neigh.
Where were they going? To what were they coming?
On they went, Socks walking behind Lightning; Lightning sniffing out the track. There were no other sounds. Dog’s feet and three dingoes’ pads made no noise. Socks was trying to be silent.
He had begun to have a strong feeling that that brink they had come to, and where the white hawk hovered in space over darkness, might be the fabled Secret Valley of Thowra’s.
Now, he thought they might be travelling along the edge of Storm’s Hidden Valley. Where did Son of Storm live?
Socks went on and on with his family and all his dreams and questions. Every few steps he put his head down to Lightning’s, and each time checked up on those lovely little dingoes. All was well — they were all coming along through the night.
Then suddenly Lightning stopped in his tracks. Socks stopped still beside him. Something — someone — was on the track ahead.
In the darkness Lightning saw far more clearly than Socks did, and his hackles were up, but Socks could make out the dark bulk of a horse. He knew absolutely that it was Son of Storm, whom he had seen once travelling with the blue roan mare and the blue roan dwarf foal, towards the high country.
Son of Storm greeted the family ceremoniously and kindly, leading them down an easy way into his valley. It would surely be safe to stay here for a while, before making downwards to the Ingegoodbee and that hollow tree which really was ‘home’ to the whole family.
A stream ran down the Hidden Valley, and there were sandy caves. Son of Storm took them into one cave, and seemed delighted when the tired dog lay down and curled up to sleep with the dingo family.
Socks lay down, there, beside Lightning and his dingo family, and soon all was quiet.