He could not see his enemies.
The blowing smoke, right in his nose, made scent impossible. But in the taut
lassoes he sensed the direction of his captors. He plunged, rearing at the end
of the plunge, and struck out viciously with his hoofs. Slone, quick with spur
and bridle, swerved Nagger aside and Wildfire, off his balance, went down with
a crash. Slone dragged him, stretched him out, pulled him over twice before he
got forefeet planted. Once up, he reared again, screeching his rage, striking
wildly with his hoofs. Slone wheeled aside and toppled him over again.
"Wildfire, it's no fair fight," he called, grimly. "But you led me a chase. .
. . An' you learn right now I'm boss!"
Again he dragged the stallion. He was ruthless. He would have to be so,
stopping just short of maiming or killing the horse, else he would never break
him. But Wildfire was nimble. He got to his feet and this time he lunged out.
Nagger, powerful as he was, could not sustain the tremendous shock, and went
down. Slone saved himself with a rider's supple skill, falling clear of the
horse, and he leaped again into the saddle as Nagger pounded up.
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