He would have cut the rope, but it would be almost impossible to get out a knife and open a blade with his teeth, still clinging to the tail of the swimming horse with one hand.

He reached down through the water, pulled out the colt, and with an effort swung himself about.

Close at hand he could not reach the rope, and therefore he fired not directly at the rope itself, but at the edge of the rock around which the lariat bent at a sharp angle.

The splash of that bullet from the strong face of the rock sliced the rope like a knife.

It snapped free, and the brave little mustang straightened out again for the far shore.
An instant more Bard swam with the revolver poised above the water, but he caught no glimpse of Nash; so he restored it with some difficulty to the holster, and gave all his attention and strength to helping the horse through the water, swimming with one hand and kicking vigorously with his feet.
Perhaps they would not have made it, for now through exhaustion the ears of the mustang were drooping back.