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Then, just as
swiftly, he bound his scarf tight round Wildfire's head, blindfolding him.
"All so easy!" exclaimed Slone, under his breath. "Lord! who would believe it!
. . . Is it a dream?"
He rose and let the stallion have a free head.
"Wildfire, I got a rope on you--an' a hackamore--an' a blinder," said Slone.
"An' if I had a bridle I'd put that on you. . . . Who'd ever believe you'd
catch yourself, draggin' in the sand?"
Slone, finding himself failing on the sand, grew alive to the augmented
movement of the avalanche. It had begun to slide, to heave and bulge and
crack. Dust rose in clouds from all around. The sand appeared to open and let
him sink to his knees. The rattle of gravel was drowned in a soft roar. Then
he shot down swiftly, holding the lassoes, keeping himself erect, and riding
as if in a boat. He felt the successive steps of the slope, and then the long
incline below, and then the checking and rising and spreading of the avalanche
as it slowed down on the level. All movement then was checked violently.


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