Read Online Season of Ponies by Zilpha Keatley Snyder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Zilpha Keatley Snyder
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long, old-fashioned nightdress she scrambled out the window and down the trellis. Almost before she reached the ground, Nimbus was beside her. Pamela felt a surge of fear. She knew that only something very serious would make Nimbus come so near the house. Nimbus knelt quickly, and leaped into a run almost before Pamela was settled on her back.
Faster than Pamela had ever ridden before, they flew through the dark night. Over hills, down into valleys, and then into the forest. Pamela hid her face from the slashing branches. She glanced up finally to find they were racing without pause through the familiar meadow. Very soon they were climbing again, and Pamela recognized the rocky slopes that Ponyboy had called Sleeping Lady Mountain. As they reached the crest of the hill, Nimbus paused for a second and with a gasp of horror Pamela looked down on the endless black water and twisted mossy trees of the Pig Woman’s swamp. A shiver of fear raced over her and Pamela felt Nimbus shudder beneath her; then he plunged downward towards the swamp.
At the edge of the swampland they came upon the pony herd. They were standing close together with their lovely heads and tails drooping mournfully. They greeted Pamela with pleading, forlorn eyes. She noticed that they seemed to be continually looking out across the marshland into the mysterious darkness. Then Cirro began to move forward, stopping to look back as though beckoning her to follow. Pamela urged Nimbus on, but she could feel the terror that shook the little mare’s body, so she slipped from her back and followed on foot.
Cirro led the way through tall marsh grass, over spongy, shaky ground, to a spot where, just ahead, stretched the dark water of the swamp. And there before them a narrow ridge of muddy earth wound away into the darkness. Cirro lowered his head as though sniffing the earth, and Pamela knelt beside him. By the pale light of the moon, she could just make out footprints—human prints—and the tiny hoofprints of a colt. The prints were deeply cut in the spongy earth. They seemed to be headed straight for the center of the swamp.
Pamela turned and looked back at the ponies. As her glance flew frantically from one trembling drooping pony to another, she knew suddenly what had happened. Solsken was missing. He must have strayed away from the herd and into the swamp, and Ponyboy must have gone after him. She was sure that nothing else could have made Ponyboy go into the swamp.
The ponies gazed at Pamela with frightening pleading eyes, and she knew what she had to do. Slowly, she started out over the narrow slimy path.
As she picked her way cautiously along the narrow trail, her mind raced. Where was Ponyboy? Would she be able to help him? Who was the Pig Woman? Pamela stopped. At the back of her mind a thought flickered, but she couldn’t quite get hold of it. It hung there like a name you can’t quite remember. She was almost sure it was something she had read. It had something to do with the Pig Woman, but the rest just wouldn’t come. Somehow Pamela felt sure it was very important. She could almost remember ...
Just then Pamela forgot everything and drew back in horror. Almost under her feet a part of the path squirmed, and a fat black snake oozed away into the slimy water. She stifled a scream.
She looked around her. A thick swirling mist drifted everywhere. Behind her she could not even see the familiar shape of Sleeping Lady Mountain. Ahead and on both sides through swirling mist she could see dark water, clumps of marsh grass, and huge dark shapes that could be twisted, mossy swamp trees. Or could they be crouching monsters waiting to spring? Frozen with terror, Pamela watched and listened. Now all around her she could hear faint rustlings and gurglings, as unknown creatures swam or crept.
Moments of frozen fear crawled by before Pamela could force herself to go on.
She watched each step even more carefully now. From time to time she caught a glimpse of
Faster than Pamela had ever ridden before, they flew through the dark night. Over hills, down into valleys, and then into the forest. Pamela hid her face from the slashing branches. She glanced up finally to find they were racing without pause through the familiar meadow. Very soon they were climbing again, and Pamela recognized the rocky slopes that Ponyboy had called Sleeping Lady Mountain. As they reached the crest of the hill, Nimbus paused for a second and with a gasp of horror Pamela looked down on the endless black water and twisted mossy trees of the Pig Woman’s swamp. A shiver of fear raced over her and Pamela felt Nimbus shudder beneath her; then he plunged downward towards the swamp.
At the edge of the swampland they came upon the pony herd. They were standing close together with their lovely heads and tails drooping mournfully. They greeted Pamela with pleading, forlorn eyes. She noticed that they seemed to be continually looking out across the marshland into the mysterious darkness. Then Cirro began to move forward, stopping to look back as though beckoning her to follow. Pamela urged Nimbus on, but she could feel the terror that shook the little mare’s body, so she slipped from her back and followed on foot.
Cirro led the way through tall marsh grass, over spongy, shaky ground, to a spot where, just ahead, stretched the dark water of the swamp. And there before them a narrow ridge of muddy earth wound away into the darkness. Cirro lowered his head as though sniffing the earth, and Pamela knelt beside him. By the pale light of the moon, she could just make out footprints—human prints—and the tiny hoofprints of a colt. The prints were deeply cut in the spongy earth. They seemed to be headed straight for the center of the swamp.
Pamela turned and looked back at the ponies. As her glance flew frantically from one trembling drooping pony to another, she knew suddenly what had happened. Solsken was missing. He must have strayed away from the herd and into the swamp, and Ponyboy must have gone after him. She was sure that nothing else could have made Ponyboy go into the swamp.
The ponies gazed at Pamela with frightening pleading eyes, and she knew what she had to do. Slowly, she started out over the narrow slimy path.
As she picked her way cautiously along the narrow trail, her mind raced. Where was Ponyboy? Would she be able to help him? Who was the Pig Woman? Pamela stopped. At the back of her mind a thought flickered, but she couldn’t quite get hold of it. It hung there like a name you can’t quite remember. She was almost sure it was something she had read. It had something to do with the Pig Woman, but the rest just wouldn’t come. Somehow Pamela felt sure it was very important. She could almost remember ...
Just then Pamela forgot everything and drew back in horror. Almost under her feet a part of the path squirmed, and a fat black snake oozed away into the slimy water. She stifled a scream.
She looked around her. A thick swirling mist drifted everywhere. Behind her she could not even see the familiar shape of Sleeping Lady Mountain. Ahead and on both sides through swirling mist she could see dark water, clumps of marsh grass, and huge dark shapes that could be twisted, mossy swamp trees. Or could they be crouching monsters waiting to spring? Frozen with terror, Pamela watched and listened. Now all around her she could hear faint rustlings and gurglings, as unknown creatures swam or crept.
Moments of frozen fear crawled by before Pamela could force herself to go on.
She watched each step even more carefully now. From time to time she caught a glimpse of
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