The black backed away slowly until Calumet was within fifty feet of him--it seemed to Betty that the horse knew from previous experience the length of a rope--and then with a snort of defiance it wheeled and raced to the opposite end of the corral.
"Watch the gate!" called Calumet to Kelton.
He continued to approach the black.

The beast retreated along the fence, stepping high, watching Calumet over its shoulder.

Plainly, it divined Calumet's intention--which was to crowd it into a corner--and when almost there it halted suddenly, made a feint to pass to Calumet's left, wheeled just as suddenly and plunged back to his right.
The ruse did not work.

Calumet had been holding his rope low, with seeming carelessness, but as the black whipped past he gave the rope a quick flirt.

Like a sudden snake it darted sinuously out, the loop opened, rose, settled around the black's neck, tightened; the end in Calumet's hand was flipped in a half hitch around a snubbing post nearby, and the black tumbled headlong into the dust of the corral, striking with a force that brought a grunt from him.
For an instant he lay still.