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Suddenly the bank of sand began to slide with him。 He snorted in fright。 The
avalanche started slowly and was evidently no mere surface slide。 It was deep。
It stoppedthen started againand again stopped。 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。 He fancied his eyes were failing him； that
it was not possible the great horse really was up there； helpless in the sand。
Yet every huge stride Slone took brought him closer to a fact he could not
deny。 In his eagerness he slipped； and fell； and crawled； and leaped； until he
reached the slide which held Wildfire prisoner。
The stallion might have been fast in quicksand； up to his body； for all the
movement he could make。 He could move only his head。 He held that up； his eyes
wild； showing the whites； his foaming mouth wide open； his teeth gleaming。 A
sound like a scream rent the air。 Terrible fear and hate were expressed in
that piercing neigh。 And shaggy； wet； dusty red； with all of brute savageness
in the look and action of his head； he appeared hideous。
As Slone leaped within roping distance the avalanche slipped a foot or two；
halted； slipped once more； and slowly started again with that low roar。 He did
not care whether it slipped or stopped。 Like a wolf he leaped closer； whirling
his rope。 The loop hissed round his head and whistled as he flung it。 And when
fiercely he jerked back on the rope； the noose closed tight round Wildfire's
neck。
〃By GdIgota rope…on him！〃 cried Slone； in hoarse pants。
He stared； unbelieving。 It was unreal； that sightunreal like the slow；
grinding movement of the avalanche under him。 Wildfire's head seemed a demon
head of hate。 It reached out； mouth agape； to bite； to rend。 That horrible
scream could not be the scream of a horse。
Slone was a wild…horse hunter； a rider； and when that second of incredulity
flashed by； then came the moment of triumph。 No moment could ever equal that
one； when he realized he stood there with a rope around that grand stallion's
neck。 All the days and the miles and the toil and the endurance and the
hopelessness and the hunger were paid for in that moment。 His heart seemed too
large for his breast。
〃I trackedyou！〃 he cried； savagely。 〃I stayedwith you！ 。 。 。 An' I got a
ropeon you！ An'I'll ride youyou red devil！〃
The passion of the man was intense。 That endless； racking pursuit had brought
out all the hardness the desert had engendered in him。 Almost hate； instead of
love； spoke in Slone's words。 He hauled on the lasso； pulling the stallion's
head down and down。 The action was the lust of capture as well as the rider's
instinctive motive to make the horse fear him。 Life was unquenchably wild and
strong in that stallion； it showed in the terror which made him hideous。 And
man and beast somehow resembled each other in that moment which was inimical
to noble life。
The avalanche slipped with little jerks； as if treacherously loosing its hold
for a long plunge。 The line of fire below ate at the bleached grass and the
long column of smoke curled away on the wind。
Slone held the taut lasso with his left hand； and with the right he swung the
other rope； catching the noose round Wildfire's nose。 Then letting go of the
first rope he hauled on the other； pulling the head of the stallion far down。
Hand over hand Slone closed in on the horse。 He leaped on Wildfire's head；
pressed it down； and； holding it down on the sand with his knees； with swift
fingers he tied the noose in a hackamorean improvised halter。 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 youan' a hackamorean' 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。 He
appeared to be half buried in sand。 While he struggled to extricate himself
the thick dust blew away and settled so that he could see。 Wildfire lay before
him； at the edge of the slide； and now he was not so deeply embedded as he had
been up on the slope。 He was struggling and probably soon would have been able
to get out。 The line of fire was close now； but Slone did not fear that。
At his shrill whistle Nagger bounded toward him； obedient； but snorting； with
ears laid back。 He halted。 A second whistle started him again。 Slone finally
dug himself out of the sand； pulled the lassoes out； and ran the length of
them toward Nagger。 The black showed both fear and fight。 His eyes roiled and
he half shied away。
〃Come on！〃 called Slone； harshly。
He got a hand on the horse； pulled him round； and； mounting in a flash； wound
both lassoes round the pommel of the saddle。
〃Haul him out； Nagger； old boy！〃 cried Slone； and he dug spurs into the black。
One plunge of Nagger's slid the stallion out of the sand。 Snorting； wild；
blinded； Wildfire got up； shaking in every limb。 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。 Nagger braced
his huge frame and held the plunging stallion。 But the saddle slipped a
little； the cinches cracked。 Slone eased the strain by wheeling after
Wildfire。
The horses had worked away from the fire； and Wildfire； free of the stifling
smoke； began to break and lunge and pitch； plunging round Nagger in a circle；
running blindly； but with unerring scent。 Slone； by masterly horsemanship；
easily avoided the rushes； and made a pivot of Nagger； round which the wild
horse dashed in his frenzy。 It seemed that he no longer tried to free himself。
He lunged to kill。
〃Steady； Nagger； old boy！〃 Slone kept calling。 〃He'll never get at you。 。 。 。
If he slips that blinder I'll kill him！〃
The stallion was a fiend in his fury； quicker than a panther； wonderful on his
feet； and powerful as an ox。 But he was at a disadvantage。 He could not see。
And Slone； in his spoken intention to kill Wildfire should the scarf slip；
acknowledged that he never would have a chance to master the stallion。
Wildfire was bigger； faster； stronger than Slone had believed； and as for
spirit； that was a grand and fearful thing to see。
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 th