He shouted, and at the faint sound of his cheer the piebald pricked a single weary ear.

He shouted again, and this time not for encouragement, but from exultation; a swerving current had caught them and was bearing them swiftly toward the desired bank.
It failed them when they were almost touching bottom and swung sharply out toward the centre again, but the mustang, as though it realized that this was the last chance, fought furiously.

Anthony gave the rest of his strength, and they edged through, inch by inch, and horse and man staggered up the bank and stood trembling with fatigue.
Glancing back, he saw Nash in the act of throwing his lariat to the ground, wild with anger, and before he could understand the meaning of this burst of temper over a mere spoiled lariat, the gun whipped from the side of the cowboy, exploded, and the little piebald, with ears pricked sharply forward as though in vague curiosity, crumpled to the ground.

The suddenness of it took all power of action from Bard for the instant.

He stood staring stupidly down at the dying horse and then whirled, gun in hand, frantic with anger and grief.
Nash was galloping furiously up the far bank of the Saverack, already safely out of range, and speeding toward the ford..