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Wildfire appeared to be
sinking deeper and deeper. His struggles only embedded him more firmly. Then
the bank of sand, with an ominous, low roar, began to move once more. This
time it slipped swiftly. The dust rose in a cloud, almost obscuring the horse.
Long streams of gravel rattled down, and waterfalls of sand waved over the
steps of the slope.
Just as suddenly the avalanche stopped again. Slone saw, from the great oval
hole it had left above, that it was indeed deep. That was the reason it did
not slide readily. When the dust cleared away Slone saw the stallion, sunk to
his flanks in the sand, utterly helpless.
With a wild whoop Slone leaped off Nagger, and, a lasso in each hand, he ran
down the long bank. The fire was perhaps a quarter of a mile distant, and,
since the grass was thinning out, it was not coming so fast as it had been.
The position of the stallion was half-way between the fire and Slone, and a
hundred yards up the slope.
Like a madman Slone climbed up through the dragging, loose sand. He was beside
himself with a fury of excitement.


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