The Horses of the Wash

On the fourth morning, Polly woke to a sound like thunder. But there were no clouds in the sky. The sound rolled along the canyon and shook her branch. She looked down. The thunder had legs. A group of horses was running on the flat sand.

Polly flew next to a young brown mare at the back. Where are you going, she asked. Nowhere, said the mare happily. We just run here. Horses have lived in this canyon for a long time. Some belong to the families who farm here. Some belong to the canyon.

Polly understood why they ran here. The sand was soft and flat, and it went on for miles between the walls. And the noise was wonderful. The sound hit one wall, came back off the other, and made twenty horses sound like two hundred.

At last the horses slowed down. A thin stream ran through the middle of all that dry sand. The horses stood in the water and drank. Polly landed on the warm sand next to them and said nothing at all.