The wind flew. God told to wind to condense itself and out of the flurry came the horse. But with the spark of sprit the horse flew by the wind itself. — Marguerite Henry Copy Share Image
“He peered through a broken window and saw a face. The face of The Great Chaffalo. “You saved me, for certain,” declared Touch, his heart still banging away. “I’m mighty grateful, sir. And thankful for the horse.” For the first… — Sid Fleischman Copy Share Image
