Now he stood ready to say to all the world: Behold, a man! Let it be remembered that his early years had been passed in a dull, dun silence, and time had slipped by him with softly padding, uneventful hours.

Now, with the rope of restraint snapped, he rode at the world with hands, palm upward, asking for life, and that life which lies under the hills of the mountain-desert heard his question and sent a cold, sharp echo back to answer his lusty singing.
The first answer, as he plunged on, not knowing where, and not caring, was when the roan reeled suddenly and flung forward to the ground.
Even that violent stop did not unseat Red Pierre.

He jerked up on the reins with a curse and drove in the spurs.

Valiantly the horse reared his shoulders up, but when he strove to rise the right foreleg dangled helplessly.

He had stepped in some hole and the bone was broken cleanly across.
The rider slipped from the saddle and stood facing the roan, which pricked its ears forward and struggled once more to regain its feet.
The effort was hopeless, and Pierre took the broken leg and felt the rough edges of the splintered bone through the skin.