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.