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The soft sand in the pass was plowed deep before Wildfire paused in his mad
plunges. He was wet and heaving. His red coat seemed to blaze. His mane stood
up and his ears lay flat.
Slone uncoiled the lassoes from the pommel and slacked them a little. Wildfire
stood up, striking at the air, snorting fiercely. Slone tried to wheel Nagger
in close behind the stallion. Both horse and man narrowly escaped the vicious
hoofs. But Slone had closed in. He took a desperate chance and spurred Nagger
in a single leap as Wildfire reared again. The horses collided. Slone hauled
the lassoes tight. The impact threw Wildfire off his balance, just as Slone
had calculated, and as the stallion plunged down on four feet Slone spurred
Nagger close against him. Wildfire was a little in the lead. He could only
half rear now, for the heaving, moving Nagger, always against him, jostled him
down, and Slone's iron arm hauled on the short ropes. When Wildfire turned to
bite, Slone knocked the vicious nose back with a long swing of his fist.


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